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Marco bent in to kiss her cheek, barely registering the comment as he moved away, his eyes scanning the crowd for a distinctive redhead.
In her search for Freya, Kate noticed the dance floor had emptied. She soon discovered why. Her shy charge, who had discovered her inner diva, was there, taking centre stage, partnered by her grandfather.
As the last chords played Freya curtsied to the King before clapping herself.
Guests’ cameras were banned and the palace censored any releases from the official photographers and film crews present, but if that image got out it would capture the hearts of millions. Kate, who knew that despite his multiple faults Marco was all about the best interests of his child, suspected it wouldn’t.
An ebullient Freya spotted Kate and came running over, pushing her way through the crowds and effectively putting all curious eyes on her nanny, an identity that she heard pronounced on all sides as Freya pulled her onto the floor for their dance.
Kate recognised the child was over-wound and overtired,overbeing the operative word at the moment the normally sweetly biddable child showed a marked inclination to pout when thwarted. Kate knew that she just as easily become tearful.
I’ve created a monster, Kate thought with fond amusement. There was definitely more of Freya’s father in her than she had realised, watching as the little girl imperiously demanded a‘salsa if you know one’from the indulgent conductor.
A ripple of laughter went around the room as the salsa beat, backed by a full orchestra, pumped out.
‘You promised,’ Freya reminded Kate. The bright cheeks and glitter in her eyes had all the hallmarks of exhaustion as she held out her hands and showed a strong inclination to sulk.
‘One dance and then you say goodnight.’
Freya looked inclined to argue but after a moment, much to Kate’s relief, she nodded and sighed. The last thing Kate wanted to cope with was a childish meltdown in front of the several hundred VIP pairs of eyes.
‘OK.’
As couples joined them on the dance floor and she gently pushed the child through the series of moves they had been practising as a pre-bedtime treat, Kate’s eyes were drawn to a laughing young couple sealed at the hip, moving in unison as they swayed sinuously to the music with practised show-stopper ease.
What would it feel like to dance this one with Marco? To move to the beat with their bodies sealed? She pushed the image away but not before her body reacted feverishly to the imaginary scenario.
After the dance ended and before Freya could make the inevitable plea for just one more, Kate scanned the room but failed to locate Marco. It wasn’t as if he blended in with the crowd. Nor could she see the beautiful blonde model.What a coincidence, she thought sourly.
She looked at Freya’s too bright, overtired eyes and pale face and made a unilateral decision, which was what she was being paid for.
‘Let’s go and say goodnight,’ she said, placing a hand on the child’s shoulders and guiding Freya across to where the King and Queen were watching the proceedings in the company of a select few.
Rosa, who had organised the entire event, was not one of them. At least the King did not rub his wife’s nose in it publicly.
Marco struggled and failed to hide his frustrated response to the interruption.
‘Yes?’ Like all his team, the head of security was dressed to blend in. He didn’t, but then that was not necessarily a bad thing.
‘Can you not deal with it?’ Whatever the ‘it’ was, he already knew the answer. The man had ten years’ special forces experience. If he couldn’t deal with it, Marco wouldn’t stand an earthly chance.
‘I could, as I told His Majesty, but the message came back and he has requested that you personally...’
Marco sighed. ‘What is it?’ he asked with forced calm. You didn’t question a royal command, at least not in public.
‘A helicopter has strayed into the no-fly zone... It’s not an issue, our intel suggests just an opportunist film crew, and we have two of our choppers escorting them into the airport as we speak.’
‘It sounds like you are on top of it. So what does my father expect me to do?’
‘As to that, Highness, I have no idea, but the message I received was that he wanted you to—’
Across the room the King caught Marco’s eye, tipped his head and tapped the side of his nose in a secret-shared attitude.
Marco heaved out a sigh of understanding. Now it made sense! His father had decided to don the mantle of an unlikely fairy godmother, in a ‘you willleavethe ball early’ sense.
The request was his legitimate headache, get-out-of-jail excuse; the irony was that on any previous occasion he wouldn’t have needed asking twice.
‘Fine,’ he sighed out, clinging by the skin of his teeth to his sense of irony. With a well-meaning father like his, who needed anarchists to spoil your plans? ‘A royal command? What can you say? Lead the way.’
