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the steward a beaming smile. ‘What would you suggest?’

      If the steward was surprised by her question he didn’t show it. ‘We have crayfish, mussels, clams and oysters. Or, if you prefer we have sardines—or bouillabaisse. It’s a fish stew, practically our national dish.’

      ‘That sounds lovely. I’ll have that, thank you.’

      The yacht was working its way along the coastline. Within a few minutes the pink palace came into view.

      Ruby stood up. ‘Wow! It looks so different, seeing it from the sea. It really does look like something from a little girl’s toybox. It’s gorgeous.’

      Alex rolled his eyes. ‘You can imagine how I felt as a teenager, living in a pink palace.’

      She smiled. Her eyes were still sparkling. ‘I can imagine. But look at it. It’s impressive enough when you see it on land—but from here...? It’s like something from a fairytale.’

      ‘What’s your favourite room?’

      ‘In the palace?’

      He nodded.

      The steward had brought some champagne and an ice bucket and Alex popped the cork and started pouring the champagne into glasses.

      She took a sip from the glass he handed her. ‘It has to be the library. It’s the smell. I love it. I could sit in there all day.’

      ‘That was my mother’s favourite room too. She was always in the library.’

      Ruby turned to face him. ‘You don’t really talk about your mother. What was she like? I’ve seen some photographs. She was beautiful.’

      He nodded. ‘Yes, she was. Most people talk about the clothes she wore and her sense of style. Marguerite de Castellane was known the world over for her beautiful wardrobe. But I remember my mother as having a really wicked sense of humour. And she was clever. She spoke four languages and brought me up speaking both English and French. She died from a clot in her lung—a pulmonary embolism. She’d had the flu and been off her feet for a few weeks. Her legs were swollen and sore—but she didn’t tell anyone until it was too late.’

      He couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness as he spoke about his mother. To everyone else she had been the Queen. But to an only child with an almost absent father his mother had been his whole world.

      She’d kept him grounded. She’d made sure he attended the local school and the local nursery. She’d sent him shopping for bread at the bakers and meat at the delicatessen. Everything he’d learned about being a ‘normal’ person he’d learned from his mother.

      His father had aged twenty years after she’d died. Still working, still ruling his country, but his heart hadn’t been in it.

      The relationship between father and son had always been strained. And it hadn’t improved with age or with his father’s ill health.

      Ruby had little lines across her forehead now. Even when she frowned she still looked good. He felt a surge of emotion towards her.

      He didn’t talk to anyone about his mother. In years gone by he had spoken to Sophia, but that had been like talking to a friend. Ruby hadn’t known his mother. She would only have whatever had been posted on the internet to refer to.

      It felt good to share. She made it so easy to talk.

      With her legs stretched out in front of her, sipping champagne from the glass, she looked right at home. But he knew she wasn’t.

      She might be comfortable around him, but she wasn’t comfortable around the palace. The formalities of palace life were difficult for her.

      She didn’t ask or expect anyone to do things for her. Rufus had already mentioned how she’d ruffled some feathers by trying to do her own laundry or make her own toast.

      ‘What about your family?’

      She smiled. ‘My mum and dad are both just about to retire. They’ve already told me they plan to move to the South of France. They bought a house there last month. They’ve holidayed there for the last ten years and have really got into the way of life.’

      ‘Have they ever been to Euronia?’

      She rolled her eyes and took another sip of champagne, holding the glass up towards him. ‘Only billionaires come to Euronia, Alex.’

      He was instantly defensive. ‘That’s not true. There are cruise ships moored every day in port, and we have bus tours that come across the border from France—’

      ‘Alex.’

      She leaned over and touched his arm. The palm of her hand was cool from holding the champagne glass.

      ‘I was teasing.’

      The smile reached right up into her eyes and he wrapped his hand over hers.

      ‘Sometimes I’m just not sure.’ He stayed exactly where he was. His eyes fixed on hers.

      She wasn’t shy. She didn’t tear her gaze away. Her lips were turned upwards, but as he looked at her more closely her smile seemed a little sad.

      ‘What do you think would have happened between us, Ruby?’

      He didn’t need to fill in the blanks. She knew exactly what he was talking about. He saw her take a careful breath in.

      ‘I have no idea, Alex,’ she whispered. ‘Sometimes I’ve thought about it—thought about what might have happened if things had been different. But neither of us know. Neither of us can really imagine. Ten years changes a person. I’m not the girl I was in Paris, and you’re not the boy.’

      He nodded his head and grinned at her. ‘You thought I was a boy?’

      Now he was teasing. But she was right. They could spend hours talking about what might have been but it wouldn’t do either of them any good. He’d spent too long thinking that Ruby had slipped through his fingers.

      But she was right here. Right now.

      He ran his palm along her arm. ‘I thought about you, Ruby. I thought about you a lot. When you didn’t reply to the message I left you I just assumed you’d changed your mind.’ He met her gaze again, ‘Or that you’d seen the news and didn’t want any part of it.’

      ‘Oh, Alex...’ She lifted her hand and stroked her fingers through her hair. Her head shook slowly. ‘I never got your message, Alex. And once I realised who you were I assumed you didn’t want to know me—plain old Ruby Wetherspoon. You were a prince, for goodness’ sake—with a whole country to look after. I didn’t think you’d even remember me.’

      He reached up and touched her cheek. ‘You have no idea at all. And you’ve never been plain old Ruby to me.’

      ‘The flowers... They were from you—weren’t they?’

      He nodded. ‘I didn’t want to interfere in your life. But then there came a time when it wasn’t appropriate to send them any more.’ His chest tightened as he said the words.

      He didn’t need to go into detail.

      He’d always harboured hopes about Ruby. But once he’d known he had to make a commitment to Sophia it had become inappropriate to keep sending flowers to another woman. Alex would never have done something like that.

      ‘I guess now I’m free to send you flowers again,’ he said quietly.

      ‘I guess you are.’

      She gave him a little smile and set down her glass. The yacht was moving around the coastline, dancing along in the waves—just as they were dancing around each other.

      ‘Why did you ask me to come, Alex? Why did you want me here?’

      There it was again. That tiny tremble in her voice. He loved the fact that she was fearless. That she was courageous enough to ask the question

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