AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her heart made a skip. ‘That’s kind of you to say.’ She took her own deep breath. ‘Well, there’s only one way to find out...’
Marcelo’s parents, like his siblings, had their private quarters in the same part of the castle as his, but Clara had never been inside their domains. Mainly because she and Marcelo had barely left theirs. And also because, other than Alessia, they’d all been abroad.
The heels of her shoes clacked and echoed down the expansive corridors. Every person they met en route nodded politely—she could admit to feeling a little disappointed that commoners didn’t have to curtsey or bow to family members; she’d have loved that!—and then they rounded a corner and were met with high double doors guarded by armed footmen.
The footmen nodded then stepped aside to admit them.
The moment they crossed the threshold, Clara’s heart set off at a canter.
If the armed footmen hadn’t been a giveaway that she was about to meet a monarch, what she walked into would have sang it loud and clear.
She’d thought Marcelo’s quarters were rich and sumptuous?
They’d clearly entered a welcome room, and as she followed Marcelo through it, she craned her neck to take in the gold and cream papered walls, the gold wall lights, the gold and crystal chandeliers...and then they were walking through another vast area of deep blues and gold which in itself led to...
A much smaller room.
A much smaller, cosier room. But with the most extravagant furnishings she had ever seen...oh, how she coveted that yellow and gold chaise longue...and those gold and green drapes...ooh, and that bronze sculpture of the Madonna and Child...
And then they were in a dining room three times the size of Marcelo’s, the table that could easily seat thirty people set for six in the centre; three either side...and the middle chair of the right-hand side wasn’t a chair, it was a throne.
Terror grabbed her throat and, forgetting her vow not to touch him until the evening was over, Clara instinctively grabbed Marcelo’s arm and strained her face to his. ‘Your parents are the King and Queen,’ she hissed.
Bemusement spread over his handsome face. ‘Funnily enough, I am aware of that.’
‘No, silly. I mean, they’re royalty. Proper bona fide royalty.’ Seeing the bemusement turn to alarm, she tried to explain her incoherent thoughts as coherently as she could. ‘Yes, I know they’re royalty. I know you’re royalty. But it’s always felt quite abstract to me, a concept without any meaning behind it because to me you’re just the really sexy, gorgeous man I’m going to marry for a while, and now it feels real and I’m about to meet a real king and queen and not just the people who are less than two weeks away from being my in-laws and what if I make a complete fool of myself and get the etiquette wrong and—’
A finger placed gently to her lips cut her panicked words off.
‘Bella, breathe,’ Marcelo ordered.
The large dark brown eyes blinked slowly. The slender shoulders rose slowly then fell.
He waited until certain she had control of her emotions then rubbed the back of his fingers against her soft cheekbone and quietly said, ‘You have nothing to worry about. This is an informal family dinner—’
‘Informal? That’s a throne!’
‘Trust me,’ he soothed, wishing he could kiss her fears away but suspecting that to do so would only increase her panic as he would likely smudge her perfectly applied red lipstick. Fearing everything she’d learned in the princess lessons she so diligently sat through had flown out of her head in her anxiety, he told her what he thought she most needed to hear. ‘This is informal. They’re all looking forward to meeting you. You will be sat opposite me during the meal. If at any time you feel anxious, just look at me, and please, remember to breathe.’
The large eyes didn’t flicker as she soaked his words in but then she blinked and gave a laughing shake of her head. ‘That’s useless advice considering that looking at you makes me unable to breathe properly. Seriously, man, wear a mask or something. Living with you is making my blood pressure go through the roof.’
At that moment, the double doors on the other side of the room opened and his parents entered, followed by his brother and sister.
The well-trained, unobtrusive staff filed in behind them and poured glasses of wine while Marcelo made the introductions.
By the end of her first glass, when they were all seated, Clara was feeling much more settled. Marcelo’s family were human. What a relief!
As he’d promised, she was sat opposite him. She would have liked to have sat beside Alessia but his father, King Julius, sat between them, opposite Queen Isabella, who was as tiny as her daughter. The Queen was flanked by her two sons. Despite the size and grandeur of the room, there was an intimacy to the setting that Clara relaxed into, helped by the very real effort to be jolly and welcoming she suspected all the Berrutis were making, even the slightly frightening Amadeo. As the eldest sibling, he was next in line to inherit his mother’s throne. She quite understood why Alessia had always referred to him as bossy.
Her new family were keen to know about her and peppered her with questions throughout their meal. What surprised Clara the most about the food was how homely it was, and she said so, adding, ‘I imagined you would eat that posh stuff you get in the Michelin-starred restaurants.’
King Julius, who’d attended the same Scottish boarding school his sons attended and spoke fluent English the same as they did, burst into laughter. ‘We have to suffer enough of that during our official engagements.’
Queen Isabella smiled. As a born princess, she’d been raised in this castle and taught by governesses. Her English was good but much more hesitant. ‘You like it?’
‘Very much,’ Clara enthused. ‘I prefer this to the posh stuff too.’
‘I don’t,’ Alessia chimed in. ‘Give me the posh stuff any day.’
