More Than a Playboy (8 page)

If she loved Cam as much as she believed she did she’d have to risk it, or break his heart in her endeavour to preserve hers.

The chauffeur opened the door for her, offered his hand in assistance. As she accepted his help, Sandy’s gaze took in the beautiful grounds again. She envied the people who lived here.

The scent of various flowers perfumed the night. She paused for a moment to inhale a deep lungful of the wintry air. Her mum used to keep a flower garden filled with a wonderful higgledy-piggledy array of flowers. The smell of flora guaranteed memories of her mother—always caked in mud and the scent of flowers.

“Miss?”

“Sorry.” She turned from the awe-inspiring view. The house wasn’t lit up like it’d been on the night of the ball, but the grounds were, and left Sandy with a sense of longing. She wished Cameron had warned her they would be having dinner with his friend. After this morning, she’d found herself counting the hours until she saw him again. How long would they be expected to socialize before they could be alone? “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a house quite so lovely.”

“Master Cameron is expecting you at seven, Miss,” the chauffeur reminded her.

“Of course. Thank you.” Sandy headed toward the gilded double doors, glad she’d chosen to wear her most stylish little black dress.

As they had two weeks ago, the doors opened as Sandy approached, but instead of the door attendant who’d taken her invitation, Sedrick, Cameron’s thin, elderly butler invited her to enter the warm hall.

“Good evening, Miss. How was your journey?”

A little taken aback, Sandy hadn’t expected the stern-faced butler to make small talk. “Um...it was pleasant, thank you.”

“Might I take your coat and bag?” He held out a wizened hand for the black wool garment.

Sandy scrambled out of her coat and handed it over. “Thank you.” She smoothed her damp palms over her hips in an effort to dry them, surprised by how shaky her hands were. She was more flustered at the prospect of seeing Cam than the time her Gran had caught her trying cigarettes behind her Grandfather’s shed at the end of their garden.

Sedrick offered her a small bow, then placed the garment into the cupboard to the left of the front doors. “If you will follow me, Master Cameron is waiting for you in the dining room.”

She followed the regal old man, almost tempted to tiptoe when her heels echoed a staccato behind him. The room was as extravagant as the rest of what she had seen of the residence. White, grey-veined marble covered the walls, lead crystal chandeliers hung from the high gilded ceiling, and gold leaf covered the mouldings. But it was the sight of Cam that stopped her feet from taking another step.

He stood before a row of tall white French doors, positioned so he’d seen her arrival. He wore another stylish black tuxedo, but this one had a hint of military to it, and tails that added a touch of sophisticated elegance. A blue sash crossed his body from his right shoulder, a Coat of Arms crest pinned to the left side of his chest. Sandy had seen the Coat of Arms before; it was the same as the one hanging above the front doors.

Cameron turned, the suggestion of a smile kicked up the corners of his mouth as Sedrick said. “Miss Donovan, may I present, Serene Highness, Prince Nicholas Cameron de Monaco.”

Sandy gasped, her hands hurried to cover her mouth in an effort to hide her dropped jaw. She knew her eyes were as wide as her mouth. The pulse in her throat fluttered, then sped to a gallop.

“Prince? You’re a Monégasque prince?” The realization hit her. “You own this house.”

He bowed. Just as she’d imagined the gallant princes from the romantic fairytales her mum used to read to her at bedtime would. “Prince Cameron at your service, Fair Lady. Yes, the house is mine.”

Cameron was a prince. A real-life, handsome prince. The comprehension was unbelievable, but still it brought sad tears to Sandy’s eyes. They’d known each other all this time, and he never deemed her worthy to know he was royalty. Why had he allowed her to think the worse of him?

“You let me think you were shallow. That there was nothing to you but your pretty-boy looks and your trust fund. I don’t think I can trust you after this, Cameron.”

He flinched. “You wanted to think that, Sandy. It kept you safe, gave you an excuse to cower from the attraction between us.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Would you have fallen into my arms, had I waltzed into TDA dressed in my princely finery, and asked you out?”

“I don’t know.” She paced a couple of steps, paused. “I can’t answer that.” Then continued her pacing in an effort to clear her cluttered thoughts. If Cameron had approached her dressed as he was now, could she honestly say she would have welcomed him into her life?

He’s a prince.

She had her answer. “Maybe not, I would’ve been too intimidated. But one thing I can tell you, I would have trusted a prince far more than I’d ever trust a playboy.”

“A playboy. A prince. Why do you insist on seeing me as a title?” The sadness in his voice tinged with frustration reached out to her.

She took a half step toward him then threw a glance over her shoulder at the inconspicuous butler, who stood pillar-straight with his hands clasped in front of him as he took in the scene between the two of them. Maybe Cameron was used to conducting conversations in front of his butler, but Sandy preferred to do her battles in private.

As if sensing her unease, Cameron spoke in French, directing his voice to the butler.

“Leave us, Sedrick. She looks ready to explode; I doubt your heart can take that much excitement.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. He didn’t expect her to speak the language. She spoke it fluently. As a young teen, she’d discovered a passion for foreign language, and had gone on to achieve her masters in Languages. She was now fluent in six besides her native English; French, Italian, Greek, Hebrew, Spanish and Monégasque—the Genoese Italian and Provincial French dialect spoken in Monaco. She loved to travel. After university, she spent several years travelling and working around the world until she returned home to the UK and accepted the job at TDA as a favour to Jamie. Once she saw the difference TDA made in some children’s lives, she couldn’t imagine working anywhere else.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“Why would finding out you were a prince scare me away?”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “I imagined you’d be intimidated by my title. Think I was out of your league. You admitted as much a few moments ago.” He spoke without arrogance or conceit, but with an honesty that showed her his own doubts. He wanted her, and was afraid that if she found out about his title before she got to know the man he was, she’d never give him a chance.

And she almost hadn’t. Because she’d measured him by the same standards she’d used to judge her father when, in fact, Cameron was a prince among men—with or without his title.

She moved toward him, more nervous than she’d ever been because she knew what she was about to do could change her entire life. With a boldness she could only dream she possessed, she stopped in front of Cam, rose onto her toes, and kissed him.

His arms enfolded her in an embrace that yelled WELCOME HOME. She felt as if she
had
come home. When the kiss ended, she was glad he continued to hold her because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand on her own.

Two uniformed serving staff walked into the dining room, pushing an onyx and gold serving trolley. They pulled to a sudden stop when they noticed Sandy locked in Cameron’s arms. “Sorry, sir. We thought you were ready for your meal. We can come back when—”

“It’s all right, we’re ready now.” He gave Sandy a look that made her think he’d forgotten about their dinner as he led her to the table.

She smiled a shy thanks and sat on the high-backed chair he held for her midway down the wide twenty-four-seat table. If he planned to sit at the head, he probably didn’t expect them to carry on much of a conversation.

To her surprise, he walked around the head of the table and down the other side until he came to the chair opposite hers. Taking his seat, he grinned as if he knew what she’d thought. Would she ever get to the point when she didn’t underestimate this man?

With the first course set out on white china plates, the efficient serving staff left them to eat in private.

“So what do I call you?” Sandy asked as she unfolded her blue cloth serviette and placed it on her lap. “Your Highness?”

He did the same, flicking her a wry glance as he laid his serviette across his lap. “Cameron, same as always. Or Cam.” Then he smiled, erasing the mockery from his eyes. “Maybe even my personal favourite...trust-fund baby.”

She gave a grudging smile. “Trust-fund baby, it is, then.” She forked a piece of succulent tuna into her mouth; the coriander Pesto complimented the fish to mouth-watering proportions. “
Mmm
. My compliments to the chef.”

“Thank you.”

She wasn’t fast enough to hide her surprise. “You cooked this?”

“I did.” Pointing his fork at her, he winked. “No need to raise your brows quite so high. I’m a dab hand with a piece of fish and a stove.”

“You are full of surprises.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment also.”

“You should, I would have never taken you for a foodie.”

His smile shot straight to her heart as he sliced into his fish, his gaze never leaving hers. “As long as you do take me.”

Over the course of the meal they relaxed, neither of them seemed to notice when the conversation moved from frivolous everyday issues, to more personal topics. By the time they’d reached the coffee stage, Sandy found herself talking about her mother again, sharing the good times and the bad with Cameron. She’d never told anyone about her mother’s battle with deep depression until this morning when she’d shared it with him.

“Enough about me. I want to get to know you, Cam. Coming here tonight showed me that I hardly know you.”

“Because you found out I’m a prince?”

“Not to mention you own this beautiful house. What was that the night of the ball?” She mocked the wink he’d given her when she’d asked about the house. “‘I know the guy who owns it’.”

He chuckled at her imitation of his deep voice. “You ran from me when I told you I loved you. Imagine if I’d confessed to owning the house, too.”

Because she felt at ease with him, Sandy winked, offered up a cheeky smile. “That could’ve been a deciding factor in me hanging around.”

Cam faked surprise. “Did Sandy make a joke?”

She laughed. “I know, unheard of.”

“Would you like to move to a less formal setting?” He rose, placing his serviette on the table next to his plate.

As he walked around the table, Sandy stood and met him. “Cam, I should tell you now, I’m not ready to sleep with you.” She thought she’d better be upfront about it before he led her to his room, expecting more from her than she was prepared to give this soon.

He took her hands, holding them as he smoothed his thumbs over the backs. A shockwave of excitement tingled through her. “Thanks for telling me, sweetheart, but you have no reason to worry. I’m old fashioned. I like a woman to be in love with me before I move to that stage in our relationship—it’s a principle thing.”

Her laugh came out a little shaky. She couldn’t tell him she loved him yet, not after her lame joke about his home. He’d think she went from needing time to consider a relationship to declarations of love because she found out he owned this house. What woman wouldn’t fall on her face for the chance to be with a prince and live in a residence like this? So no, she’d have to keep all admissions of love to herself until they were sure of each other.

“I’m delighted to hear that, Prince. Now tell me about your childhood. I bet it was incredible.”

He gave a sardonic laugh as he led her by the hand. “It was certainly something.”

Cam opened the door to a room that, although spacious, was also cosy, welcoming, with several large, overstuffed sofas and a fire warming the room from a large fireplace. Gold leaf patterns covered the white-panelled walls and moulding.

“Thought I’d give you a break from the marble.” Cameron’s voice whispered in her ear, sending an electric thrill from her neck to her toes.

“Every room is beautiful. You are very blessed to own this house.”

“Thank you.” He indicated the drinks cabinet. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m fine.” She sat on one of the sofas flanking the heavy coffee table near the fire.

“I can ring for more coffee, or perhaps some tea if you’d prefer.”

“I really am fine, but I’m dying to learn all about you, so spill.” She angled her body to face the opposite end of the couch, leaned her back against the armrest as she patted the space in front of her.

Cameron removed his sash, then his jacket and tie before flicking open the top buttons on his shirt. As he sat next to her, his muscular thighs drew Sandy’s attention to the dark material covering them. “I had a miserable childhood.”

“What?” She took a moment to assimilate what he’d said. The way he tossed out the sentence she could be forgiven for thinking he was talking about the weather.