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The Princess and The Masked Man
Valerie Parv
SHE WAS A PRINCESS…And should get whatever she wanted, right? But Giselle de Marginy wanted to be Keeper of Merrisand Castle, and due to Carramer's laws, only marriage could earn her the title. Yet for the independent princess, wedded bliss held no appeal–until a masked ball brought her face-to-face with the most mesmerizing blue eyes she had ever seen….IN SEARCH OF HER PRINCEWidowed single father Bryce Laws was surprised by Giselle's proposal. A marriage of convenience would secure her position and provide a mother for his young daughter. But could Bryce really wed the passionate princess in name only, when he wanted so much more?


Princess Giselle didn’t know his real name or anything about him. She only knew he had made her feel utterly alive and desirable
Would she feel the same once the masks were off? The mystery might be what made him so enticing. Somehow, she doubted it. Something in him had called her, soul to soul, like a voice in her mind, promising the earth if only she was open to the possibilities….
She wanted to meet him, to stare into his eyes and discover if the spell was really there, or only existed in her mind.
Midnight was only seconds away and some people were already reaching to undo their masks. Her gaze became frantic. Where was he?
Laughter bubbled around her as faces were revealed, some expected, some obviously causing surprise. Nowhere could she see her mystery man.
He had vanished as if into her imagination.
Dear Reader,
Egad! This month we’re up to our eyeballs in royal romances!
In Fill-In Fiancée (#1694) by DeAnna Talcott, a British lord pretends marriage to satisfy his parents. But will the hasty union last? Only time will tell, but matchmaker Emily Winters has her fingers crossed and so do we! This is the third title of Silhouette Romance’s exclusive six-book series, MARRYING THE BOSS’S DAUGHTER.
In The Princess & the Masked Man (#1695), the second book of Valerie Parv’s THE CARRAMER TRUST miniseries, a clever princess snares the affections of a mysterious single father. Look out for the final episode in this enchanting royal saga next month.
Be sure to make room on your reading list for at least one more royal. To Wed a Sheik (#1696) is the last title in Teresa Southwick’s exciting DESERT BRIDES series. A jaded desert prince is no match for a beautiful American nurse in this tender and exotic romance.
But if all these royal romances have put you in the mood for a good old-fashioned American love story, look no further than West Texas Bride (#1697) by bestselling author Madeline Baker. It’s the story of a city girl who turns a little bit country to win the heart of her brooding cowboy hero.
Enjoy!
Mavis C. Allen
Associate Senior Editor

The Princess & the Masked Man
Valerie Parv


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For the wonderful hosts at Mills & Boon who keep us in touch and on our toes.

Books by Valerie Parv
Silhouette Romance
The Leopard Tree #507
The Billionaire’s Baby Chase #1270
Baby Wishes and Bachelor Kisses #1313
* (#litres_trial_promo)The Monarch’s Son #1459
* (#litres_trial_promo)The Prince’s Bride-To-Be #1465
* (#litres_trial_promo)The Princess’s Proposal #1471
Booties and the Beast #1501
Code Name: Prince #1516
† (#litres_trial_promo)Crowns and a Cradle #1621
† (#litres_trial_promo)The Baron & the Bodyguard #1627
† (#litres_trial_promo)The Marquis and the Mother-to-Be #1633
†† (#litres_trial_promo)The Viscount & the Virgin #1691
†† (#litres_trial_promo)The Princess & the Masked Man #1695
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Interrupted Lullaby #1095
Royal Spy #1154

VALERIE PARV
With 20 million copies of her books sold, including three Waldenbooks’ bestsellers, it’s no wonder Valerie Parv is known as Australia’s queen of romance, and is the recognized media spokesperson for all things romantic. Valerie is married to her own romantic hero, Paul, a formal crocodile hunter in Australia’s tropical north.
These days he’s a cartoonist and the two live in the country’s capital city of Canberra, where both are volunteer zoo guides, sharing their love of animals with visitors from all over the world. Valerie continues to write her page-turning novels because they affirm her belief in love and happy endings. As she says, “Love gives you wings, romance helps you fly.” Keep up with Valerie’s latest releases at www.silromanceauthors.com (http://www.silromanceauthors.com).



Contents
Prologue (#u472b5859-f8bf-5ceb-af3f-c7d8b189ba51)
Chapter One (#u9b77c808-5226-549b-be10-353662b2463e)
Chapter Two (#u469f2d36-be46-5d19-bdaf-ec47512c8b58)
Chapter Three (#u504506d0-7dc3-5508-96e5-4b92adbf0e21)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue
Bryce Laws fumbled with his black tie and bit his tongue to keep from swearing out loud. “You could lend a hand instead of watching me suffer,” he grumbled.
His daughter crossed the room with a grace that belied her ten years. Reaching up, she tied the tie with deft efficiency. “There, how’s that?”
He regarded the neat result in the mirror. He still looked like a penguin, but at least he was a properly attired one. “The ability to tie one of these things must be bred into women. Your mother…”
Hearing his voice tail off, Amanda smiled wanly. “It’s okay, Dad, you can talk about her. I won’t come apart on you. I’m over that now.”
The harshness of her words didn’t conceal the hurt he heard beneath them. “You still miss her, don’t you, chicken?” He certainly did, even two years on.
“Sure. She wouldn’t have let you bring me to this place.”
He dropped a hand to her shoulder. How delicate she was, this half child, half woman he had sired. Yvette’s long illness had forced Amanda to grow up far too quickly. He had hoped taking a job at Merrisand Castle and giving her the opportunity to act her age around other children would give her back some of her interrupted childhood. After a month at Merrisand, the plan wasn’t working too well. “You’re still determined to hate the castle?”
She affected a shrug. “The deer park is cool. It reminds me of our old place. Sometimes I pretend we’re back there and everything’s the way it was. But the castle school stinks.”
She wasn’t the only one who regretted the changes in their life, he thought. He had also loved Eden Valley, their property on the beautiful, fertile island of Nuee. When his parents returned to America to be with his grandfather after a yachting accident had left him confined to a wheelchair, Bryce had taken over management of the ranch. Amanda had been three then, Yvette had been healthy and as excited as he was at the prospect of having Eden Valley to themselves. It hadn’t exactly turned out the way they’d dreamed.
He shrugged into the jacket of his dinner suit. There were some things he wouldn’t want back the way they had been, such as his grandfather’s constant interference from afar. Amanda didn’t know how frustrated Bryce had been, having the old man second-guess him about every major decision.
Reminding Karl Laws that Bryce and his parents were also shareholders in the family company that owned Eden Valley hadn’t helped. As long as Karl held the controlling interest—controlling being the operative word—he was the real boss. From his wheelchair, he ruled the American side of the Laws business empire through his son, and the Carramer side through his grandson.
No, there were some things Bryce didn’t miss.
He pulled himself back to the present. “Define stinks.”
Amanda made a face. “The castle school is soooo stuffy. It’s all history, history, history. You’d think Carramer had more past than future.”
Sometimes he felt the same about himself. “You study modern subjects, I know you do.”
She gave a snort of derision. “Like you’d know.”
He felt a smile start. “I went to school in Carramer, too, admittedly in the Dark Ages.”
She grinned in spite of herself. The transformation was astonishing. From a surly child, she became a real beauty. With the striking blond coloring and glorious hair she had inherited from her mother, Bryce didn’t doubt she’d be a heartbreaker one day. “Thirty isn’t all that ancient, Dad. If we’d moved somewhere more exciting than Merrisand, you might have married again,” she said.
“I’m not interested in marrying again.” Seeing her face darken, he regretted his sharp tone. Was she trying to tell him she wouldn’t mind if he did? He touched the back of his hand to her cheek as if he could erase the downcast expression. “I have all the family I need right here.”
He couldn’t imagine risking a repeat of the heartache he’d endured during Yvette’s illness. Amanda had been five when Yvette was stricken with a mysterious blood disease no doctor could diagnose or cure. His heart still bled to think of his wife’s battle to live as the disease took her away in slow, painful increments.
Twice she had rallied, giving them hope that one of the desperate treatments they’d tried might be working. In the end nothing had, and she had slipped away two years before. The wound in Bryce’s heart felt less raw now, but in a way that was more alarming. Would he eventually be left feeling nothing at all?
Bryce had expected his grandfather to understand his difficulties, since Karl had lost his own wife to a stroke a decade before. Instead, the specter of Yvette’s illness had seemed to frighten Karl. He had become even more despotic, making no allowances for the vast amounts of time and money Bryce had needed to devote to seeking a cure.
Not surprisingly, the running of Eden Valley had suffered, displeasing Karl so much that he had used his majority vote to have the land put up for auction. Maybe he had intended the threat to bring his grandson to heel. But Bryce was more like his grandfather than either of them wanted to admit, and had surprised the old man by agreeing that selling was the best option. His parents had taken more convincing that Bryce really did want to strike out on his own before they also voted in favor of selling. The sale had gone through five months ago.
The auction was the reason he and Amanda were living at Merrisand, he mused. Prince Maxim de Marigny, the administrator of the castle and its estates, had attended the auction to inspect Eden Valley’s renowned stock of Mayat deer, a cross between Chital and Carramer’s native sun deer. Bryce had spent a lot of time with the prince, preferring to talk about deer breeding than focus on what was happening to Eden Valley. Evidently he had impressed the prince, because soon after the auction Maxim invited Bryce to take over management of the Royal Deer Park at Merrisand.
Bryce planned to build the park up until the herds were the equal of those he’d bred at Eden Valley. Then he intended to use his share of the auction proceeds plus whatever he could save working for the royal family to buy another ranch and start again. Prince Maxim had given him complete authority over the royal park, but it wasn’t the same as having a place he and Amanda could call their own.
He could have taken her to live in America. His mother had been born on Nuee, but his father was American. Bryce himself had dual citizenship, having been born in America after he arrived early when his parents were visiting his grandparents. But Carramer was where he belonged. Yvette’s parents lived on Nuee but were still coming to terms with her death. Another reason he had for being glad he had brought Amanda to Merrisand.
“At least you’ll finally get to meet Princess Giselle,” she said now.
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the black shoes he’d polished until they gleamed. Normally the princess assisted her brother, Maxim, with the running of the castle. When Bryce arrived, he’d been told she was away in Taures city nursing an injured foot. She hadn’t summoned him to her presence on her return, so either she was happy with her brother’s appointment of Bryce, or she had more pressing priorities. Either way, she would be too busy with her many guests to pay him much heed tonight.
“There will be a lot of people at the ball. I probably won’t see much of the princess.” The only reason he was putting himself through the ordeal was because all senior castle employees were expected to attend. He was also curious, he had to admit. Was the princess as beautiful as he’d been told?
Amanda curled up at the head of the bed like a kitten. “You’ll be the best-looking man there, and the princess will be swept away.”
He slanted a look at the black mask lying between them. “I’m not sure how she’s supposed to tell.”
“Women know these things,” she said airily. “Don’t you think a masked ball is romantic?”
“Easy for you to say, chicken. You’re not the one who has to turn up looking like Zorro.”
“How about the Phantom of the Opera?”
“Or the Lone Ranger?”
“A superhero,” she countered.
With a sigh of resignation, he slipped the mask over his face and stood up to check the effect in the mirror. As a boy he had wondered how superheroes got away without being recognized. Now he was amazed at the difference the black mask made to his appearance. With only his eyes and mouth visible, he looked mysterious and totally unlike himself. Attending the princess’s ball was still an ordeal he could do without, but seeing himself in the mask made him feel marginally better about it.
The doorbell pealed. “That will be Mrs. Gray.” Their housekeeper, normally only there during the daytime, had agreed to sit with Amanda tonight.
The child bounced off the bed. “I’m old enough not to need a sitter, you know.”
He ruffled her hair. “Humor me. I need the reassurance.”
At his bedroom door, she turned back. “You look great, Dad. You’re going to knock Princess Giselle’s socks off.”
Amanda assumed he wanted to. He made a shooing gesture. “Go and let Mrs. Gray in so I can get this evening over with.”

Chapter One
This was a crazy idea, Giselle thought as she surveyed the assembled guests from the swaying height of the sedan chair borne on the shoulders of four members of the Royal Protection Detail. She should never have let her equerry talk her into making her entrance this way.
Not that she had needed much persuading. The alternative, hobbling in leaning on a cane, hadn’t held much appeal.
Torn ligaments and a chipped bone had been the doctor’s verdict after a horse she’d been riding at an official function threw her heavily. After the plaster was removed, she’d been ordered to rest her foot for another month. Merrisand Castle, built on a hill, was too difficult for her to get around in that condition, so she had spent the time at her parents’ home in Taures city. She was thankful she had only needed a plaster cast for the first two weeks, or she would have been delivered to the ball in a wheelchair.
She didn’t know what was hardest to endure: the lack of mobility or being fussed over by her mother. Princess Marie meant well, Giselle knew, but as consort to the governor of Taures, and aunt to the country’s reigning monarch, she was far more earnest about her royal role than Giselle would ever be.
Marie had a never-ending list of rules for how a princess should behave. Falling off a horse was definitely not one of them. What was Giselle supposed to do, stick to riding sidesaddle? Probably, she thought gloomily.
It was bad enough being reminded constantly of archaic rules such as “a lady only ever has one leg.” This was usually said when Giselle was wearing jeans and seated with her legs comfortably apart instead of crossed in one neat line as her mother’s rule demanded. Was she also supposed to give up all the healthy activities she enjoyed in favor of more ladylike pursuits like needlework? Fat chance.
Now was not the time to worry about such things, she told herself, feeling her spirits lift. She was home again in her beloved Merrisand Castle in time to host her favorite charity ball of the year. If she had to make her entrance in a sedan chair, so be it. This was supposed to be a fantasy affair anyway.
She looked around. The women shimmered in their designer gowns, the men looking incredibly handsome in black tie. Everyone seemed more glamorous and mysterious behind their masks. She recognized a few people even with their masks, but many faces had her puzzled. Was that really her brother, Maxim, wearing a stylish black cape over his evening dress, his mask revealing only his mouth and strong jaw?
She suspected that he was frowning at her as usual. Probably disapproving of her unorthodox mode of transport. If she couldn’t draw all eyes with her dancing prowess, she had to settle for making an entrance. She caught a cheerful grin from the man beside him. Eduard de Marigny, the present marquis of Merrisand. Masked or not, she would know him anywhere. It was a pity he lived in Valmont Province when he wasn’t serving with the Carramer navy because he was one of Giselle’s staunchest supporters.
Beside him was his wife, Carissa. Giselle could see her cornflower eyes sparkling behind a tiny feathered mask. Carissa had met Eduard and love had blossomed between them after she mistakenly purchased one of the royal homes from a con man. Giselle was godmother to their adorable triplets, Jamet, Michelle and Henry, and counted Carissa as a dear friend. She exchanged smiles with the other woman.
Because this was a masked ball, there was no receiving line and Giselle was truly grateful. She had an excellent memory and could usually call to mind a few personal details about each of the guests as they were presented to her, but it was a tedious task. Much more challenging to try to guess who everyone was before the masks were due to come off at midnight.
After setting her down carefully at the head of the ballroom, the four members of the R.P.D. who had carried her stepped away from the chair and fanned out to keep an unobtrusive watch for the rest of the night. At her signal, trays of champagne and canapés were carried around, and the orchestra struck up the first dance of the evening. As she tapped her injured foot in instinctive response to the music, a twinge of pain reminded her that she wouldn’t be joining the other couples on the floor. She stilled her foot, feeling frustration settle over her like a cloud.
Her royal relatives were dancing or talking, and the other guests had left a deferential circle of space around her. She restrained the urge to tell them to come closer, she didn’t bite. Feeling isolated was a fact of royal life.
Normally she would have circulated among the crowd, putting others at ease until she felt that way herself. It was one of her mother’s rules that she actually found sensible. Limited by her injury, she could only look pleasant and hope someone would have the sense to approach her.
“Can I get you something, Your Highness?”
Expecting one of the servants, she looked up. And up, and up. Then felt her breath catch. The man beside her was a couple of inches over six feet tall, with a muscular build and long, athletic legs that looked as if they would eat up a dance floor. Like the other male guests, he wore evening dress and on him it looked dashingly individual.
And his eyes.
Behind his mask they were a clear, dark blue like the waters of a bottomless lake, and just as unfathomable. They met hers with a directness she seldom experienced other than from members of her family. He didn’t act like one of the castle staff, she thought, struggling to put a name to what she could see of his face. He must be a friend of Maxim or Eduard. No employee would meet her gaze so unflinchingly, as if daring her to accept him as anything other than an equal.
His hair was as black as midnight, the slightly untamed strands skimming the collar of his pristine dress shirt. The contrast was startling. Only an hour ago, she had joked with her lady-in-waiting about meeting her Prince Charming at the ball, never expecting it to be a possibility.
It wasn’t a possibility now, although it was difficult to remember, when her heart thudded against her chest and her breath felt strangled. He was only another guest, although he looked as if he had stepped straight out of her dreams.
“I don’t—that is, I’d better not in case I have to resort to pain medication during the evening.” She was furious with herself for stumbling over the words.
She imagined eyebrows as black as his hair winging upward beneath the mask. “Are you in pain now?”
His concerned tone provoked a frisson of response. “Nothing to worry about.” The faint twinge had been forgotten at her first sight of him.
He gestured at the sedan chair. “Unusual mode of transportation.”
She could have kissed him for offering the conversational lifeline, then almost sighed at the thought. Kissing him would be an extraordinary experience. One she wasn’t in the least likely to have. It didn’t stop her from imagining his generous mouth claiming hers, their breath mingling.
It had been a long time since she’d been kissed by anyone. Really kissed. There was Robert, of course. But he never made her feel this confused or needy. Maybe that’s why she felt driven to end the relationship. She wanted a man who made her feel more than he did.
The way she felt now.
She gathered her scattered wits. Although her medication had been tapered almost to nothing, it must be to blame for her confusion. How else to explain the fast hammering of her heart, and her sense that the ballroom was overheated suddenly?
She tried for a normal tone. “The sedan chair is a museum piece that belonged to my grandmother, Princess Antoinette. I had to choose between using the chair or a walking stick.”
“I saw the chair on display in the Tower Hall a couple of days ago and wondered how riding in it would feel,” he observed.
“Bumpy.” His voice reminded her of hot chocolate, smooth, rich, delicious.
She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head to clear it. It wasn’t done to seek introductions at a masked ball and take the mystery out of the occasion, but she found herself wanting to. She settled for saying, “We haven’t met before. Are you staying at the castle?”
He inclined his head. “For the moment.”
An answer that told her precisely nothing about him. “I would like some sparkling water,” she said, feeling her mouth dry.
She regretted the request when he turned away from her at once. Stay, she wanted to command, feeling a sense of desertion sweep over her. Then she retracted the thought, as watching him brought its own gratification.
He moved with a controlled strength that was like poetry, muscles fluid under the black suit. A man of action, she decided, one used to having his body obey him without thought. When he brought her glass of water, his fingers looked strong around the fragile flute. He gave it to her and a tingle traveled through her as his hand brushed hers.
Trying not to show how unnerved she was, she said, “Thank you.”
His dark gaze swept the crowd around them. “This can’t be much fun for you, Your Highness.”
Something in his gaze inspired her confidence. “It beats spending two months with my mother.”
A sparkle of understanding lit the blue depths. “Prince Maxim told me you were staying at Taures Palace. I gather it wasn’t a picnic.”
He must be one of her brother’s guests, she concluded. All the same she shouldn’t be discussing her family with someone she didn’t know, although she was tempted to do just that. “What’s the old saying? ‘You can’t go home again.”’
Did she imagine the sudden tightening around his mouth? All he said was, “Quite.” He shifted as if to move away.
“Stay and talk to me,” she said, shocking herself slightly. Feeling needy was one thing, but indulging it with a stranger was quite another. Her mother was bound to have a rule against such behavior.
He inclined his head in silent acknowledgment. “I don’t wish to monopolize your time. Protocol…”
“To blazes with protocol,” she said, then moderated her tone, “As you can see, there’s not much competition for my attention.”
He took a sip of champagne. “Perhaps they’re intimidated by you.”
“Because of the sedan chair?” It did look somewhat like a throne, she conceded.
“Sitting in that thing, you look terrifyingly regal.”
“You don’t seem intimidated.”
His deep blue eyes shone. “Fishing, Princess? All identities remain a mystery until midnight.”
“Wondering,” she compromised. “No law against that, is there?”
“Not unless your family chooses to make one.”
“You aren’t going to give me any clues, are you?” He had already given one when he’d mentioned Maxim so familiarly. “Are you a friend of Max’s?”
All he admitted was, “I know the prince.”
All the guests were connected by their association with the castle, either as members of the Merrisand Trust like her and Max, friends who supported the trust’s charitable work, or senior members of the royal household. “The same may be said of anyone here.”
“True enough.”
She found she liked the sensation of sparring with him. “You have me at an unfair advantage. You know who I am, but I don’t even know what to call you.”
He seemed to think for a moment. “You could try Clark.”
“Although it isn’t your real name.” She didn’t know how she knew, only that she did.
“My daughter put the idea in my head when I was getting ready this evening.”
A stab of disappointment lanced through her. So he was married with a child. She should have known. “You should be grateful she didn’t suggest something more bizarre.”
She saw the corners of his mouth lift. “Considering the alternatives the mask suggested to her, Clark was the mildest option.”
A flash of inspiration made her ask, “As in the superhero?”
He looked discomfited. “It was the association she made, however inaccurately.”
So he didn’t think of himself as a superhero. He certainly looked the part. It wasn’t hard to imagine him leaping tall buildings or rescuing maidens in distress. She really was getting fanciful tonight. He was married, remember? All the best ones were. He looked as averse to being at the ball as Giselle herself, probably because his wife wasn’t at his side. “I should circulate,” she said, aware of sounding reluctant.
He glanced at her bandaged foot peeping from beneath the pearl-studded hem of her ball gown. Velvet-covered dance slippers had been the best she could do to accommodate the bandage. “Unless you plan to tour the room from that chair, you might have some difficulty.” He crooked an arm. “I’m happy to offer my assistance.”
Provided she used a cane or other support for the time being, she could put weight on her injured foot now. And anything was better than being confined to this chair. Leaning on his strong arm was not her motivation for accepting, she assured herself. “It would be good to move around for a while, but I don’t want to impose,” she said.
“Not at all, Your Highness. As you can see, there’s hardly any competition for my attention.”
Hearing her own words turned back at her, she smiled. “I mustn’t take you away from your wife.”
What she could see of his face darkened fleetingly, then he returned her smile. “With respect, you’re fishing again. I can’t help you do your duty as our hostess unless you agree to preserve the mystery.”
Bryce had no idea what had made him approach the princess, or why he hadn’t come right out and admitted who he was. Some people might see the loss of Eden Valley as a comedown, but he regarded it as a liberation.
The next time he owned land, it would be in his own right, free of family interference. So, being an employee of the castle was a means to an end for him. But he found it hard to imagine the princess being so interested in him once she knew all about him. In spite of his vow to remain uninvolved, he was enjoying arousing her curiosity.
Arousing her might be even more of a challenge, not that he had any such intention. Although seeing her borne into the ball on the sedan chair carried by her protectors had certainly aroused him. Few women, even royalty, would have carried off such an entrance with her assurance.
During her stately progress into the ballroom, she had kept her back straight and her head high, exposing an expanse of swanlike neck. The full skirt of her strapless aquamarine gown had spilled over the runners of the chair, making it look as if she were floating on a cloud. He’d decided that he had to meet her.
She was right. He wasn’t intimidated by her position. Coming from a family with interests in two countries, he was used to dealing with officials at the highest levels. Beyond business, he didn’t usually seek them out, preferring the company of more everyday people like himself.
There was nothing everyday about Princess Giselle de Marigny.
For one thing her golden coloring set her apart. As fair as her brother was dark, she had eyes as bright as stars, of a jewel color he didn’t have a name for. Her hair was wound into a chignon dressed with a diamond tiara. It wasn’t a huge leap to imagine the strands tumbling around her shoulders in a riot of curls. Would they feel as silky as they looked, spilling through his fingers?
Her skin was like milk, shading to creamy pink under the rim of her jeweled mask, and she had the most tantalizing mouth. Soft, quick to smile. In a less public forum, he would have been sorely tempted to taste her. Maybe more than taste. Just as well he was constrained by the crowd.
When she took his hand and got carefully to her feet, she felt as light as his daughter, thistledown in a designer gown, a child masquerading as a princess. Except that there was nothing remotely childish in the smile she gave him as she curled her hand more securely around his arm. He felt his insides cramp in response.
“People will talk, you know,” she murmured.
He crossed his free arm over his chest and covered her hand with his, telling himself it was the gentlemanly thing to do. It had nothing to do with welcoming any excuse to touch her. “Do you care, Your Highness?”
She gave a dismissive laugh. “If I let myself worry every time someone gossiped about me, I’d be a nervous wreck.”
The only tremors he could feel in her were at his touch, possibly a product of his wishful thinking. “Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there? Where would you like to begin?”
“My brother’s group, if you’d kindly help me over to them.”
Would Maxim recognize him and expose his identity to her? There was nothing for it but to comply. The prince was chatting amiably to a group, all masked as Bryce was. He hadn’t been at the castle long enough to recognize many people, even without masks, so he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he concentrated on Giselle’s melodious conversation as she did her royal duty as hostess. Her presence had added an unexpected fillip to an occasion he hadn’t expected to enjoy in the least.
The other guests were concerned about her, of course. Surprised to see her on her feet, Bryce gathered from their comments. “Clark kindly volunteered to help me get around,” she said in a mischievous tone.
Bryce couldn’t see Prince Maxim’s frown of puzzlement as he tried to place the newcomer, but it was in his voice as he said, “Clark?”
“My secret identity for tonight, Your Highness,” Bryce explained, feeling himself color under his own mask. Entertaining the princess was one thing. He hadn’t planned on taking the joke any further.
“He came to my rescue when everyone else neglected me,” she went on.
“The day you suffer neglect, my dear Giselle, the world comes to an end,” Maxim observed. To Bryce, he said, “Normally I can’t get near her for the men swarming around her.”
“Perhaps when I’m able to dance,” she grumbled. “Today I can barely manage a few steps without assistance.”
Maxim’s gaze went to her arm linked with Bryce’s. “You don’t seem to be suffering greatly at this moment.”
He was right, she wasn’t. Her foot throbbed, but the mystery of her benefactor’s identity provided a welcome distraction. Maxim had given no sign that he recognized her escort, so her brother wasn’t going to be much help. She would have to figure this out on her own.
Although she was consumed with curiosity about the imposing stranger, part of her wanted the mystery to continue. Behind the mask he could be any man she imagined, her Prince Charming if she so chose.
She told herself she was being capricious, but decided it couldn’t hurt for one night. Soon she would be recovered enough to return to her royal duties. Added to the affairs of the trust, and her teaching commitments at the castle school, she would have little time for fantasy.
And that reminded her.
“I must arrange a meeting with you and Eduard, while he’s still in Taures Province.”
“Could we discuss that another time?” Maxim asked mildly enough, although Bryce heard the steely undercurrent in his tone.
Giselle’s head came up. “You’ve avoided discussing it elsewhere, so you leave me little choice. Eduard returns to Valmont in two more days.”
Bryce let his glance follow Maxim’s to where a tall, dark-haired man was holding court. Eduard, Marquis of Merrisand, his prodigious memory supplied. He was so well known that no mask could conceal his identity.
Maxim made an impatient sound. “If it helps, I’ve already spoken to Eduard about your desire to be appointed Keeper of the Castle.”
“And?”
Bryce heard the expectancy in her tone and wondered at it. Maxim presently held the dual titles of administrator of the Merrisand Trust and Keeper of the Castle. Giselle evidently hoped to take over the latter position herself. The Keeper was responsible for overseeing most of the day-to-day running of the castle, a big job for such slender shoulders, Bryce thought.
“We agree that you’re well qualified, but Eduard is as constrained by the terms of the Merrisand Charter as I am,” Maxim stated.
She turned to Bryce. “What do you think of a charter created two hundred years ago that excludes women from the position of Keeper unless they are married?”
Bryce tried for diplomacy. “I’d have to know more about the circumstances.”
She wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. “What would you like to know?”
“For example, does the restriction apply only to women?”
“Unfortunately it does,” Maxim interceded, sounding uneasy about the admission.
Bryce knew how his daughter would feel about that. Evidently the princess felt the same way. He didn’t entirely blame her. He couldn’t see the point of squandering half the world’s talents through an accident of gender. Something he had been unable to make Amanda’s maternal grandmother understand, or they might have parted on better terms. “Can’t the rules be updated?” he asked.
“According to the charter, any changes must be put to the people of Taures province in a referendum. If they vote in favor, the change takes effect five years and one day from the date of the referendum.”
Too long for Giselle to wait, he gathered when he felt her tense on his arm. “Isn’t that a touch excessive?” he asked.
“The charter’s history is complicated,” the princess said. “Perhaps you know that the Merrisand title was conferred on our ancestor as an insult, after he fell out with the reigning monarch of the period.”
Bryce searched his memory. “Merrisand being a term for a fool’s paradise in Carramer folklore.” In an effort to stir Amanda’s interest in the move, he had suggested she research the castle’s history on the Internet. She had gleefully reported the fool’s paradise connection to him, sounding as if she thought the description still fitted.
“As I understand it, the first marquis turned the tables on his brother by establishing a charitable trust to help children in need, then built this castle to fund the trust’s good works. What started out as an insult became one of the most respected names in the kingdom,” he went on.
Giselle seemed pleased with his knowledge. “Our ancestor had the five-year moratorium written into the charter to make sure the monarch couldn’t meddle easily in the trust’s affairs.”
“Those two really got along, didn’t they?”
She sneaked a glance at her brother, whose attention had been claimed by another guest. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“Not a one.” After he was born his parents had tried for more children without success. Part of the reason for the intense interest his grandfather took in Bryce, he suspected. As his parents’ sole heir, he carried all of his grandfather’s expectations on his shoulders.
“Then you don’t know how fierce sibling rivalry can get.”
Although she couldn’t see it, he lifted an eyebrow. “Even among royalty?”
“We’re still human. Oh.”
He felt her sag in his grasp and reached for a chair with his free hand, spinning it around so he could ease her into it. “Perhaps you should sit the rest of the ball out, Princess.”
His hands on her arms felt so warm and confident that she wished she could spend the entire evening in his company. Not possible, of course. Her duty didn’t permit it. Emboldened because she was now part of a group, other guests had begun to drift toward her.
When her mystery man stepped back to allow them to approach, it was all she could do not to grasp his hand and hold him at her side. She wanted to know who he was and why she found him so compelling.
At midnight, when the masks came off, she would have her answers, she promised herself as she pinned a smile of greeting to her face.
Ignoring the discomfort in her foot, she welcomed her guests and made polite conversation. Chatted, smiled until her jaw ached. Ate some of the lavish supper the castle chefs had created. Listened to the music and attempted not to feel too left out of the dancing.
And hoped she wasn’t watching the clock too obviously.

Chapter Two
For the rest of the night, Bryce found it a strain being sociable. He knew why and he didn’t like it. None of the other guests at the ball had captured his interest as totally as Princess Giselle.
It took enormous self-discipline to keep his glance from repeatedly straying to where she held court. The silvery peal of her laughter drew his attention like a magnet, making him pulse with desires he didn’t want to feel. Not for any woman, but especially not for someone so inappropriate.
During the move to Merrisand, Amanda had shown him an article in a magazine linking the princess with one of Carramer’s more famous exports, movie actor Robert Gaudet. He was in Hollywood at present, developing a new film project that his production company planned to make in Carramer. The article suggested that the princess’s injury was the only thing preventing her from being with him. The actor was supposedly so much in love with her that their marriage was a foregone conclusion.
The article also mentioned the princess’s many teaching and charitable activities for the Merrisand Trust and Bryce wondered how they would fit in with a Hollywood lifestyle.
He didn’t normally pay attention to such things but had been prepared to encourage anything that made Amanda happier about the move to Merrisand. He had read the article to please her, deciding that his daughter could have a worse idol than the hardworking princess.
He tried to tell himself he was glad Giselle was involved with someone. Even if she hadn’t been a princess, he had nothing to offer her, either emotionally or materially. His wife’s illness had drained him of both the capacity and the will to put himself through such torment again. And until he put his financial affairs in order, he had little to offer any woman.
The logic didn’t quench his desire to look at Giselle, and keep looking.
He thought he’d resisted the temptation fairly successfully until he became aware that his dance partner had stopped moving. He forced his attention back to her. “Is something the matter?”
“Perhaps we should dance over to the other side of the room before you get a crick in your neck from turning that way.”
He had asked the woman to dance in order to banish Giselle from his mind. Giving her name as Elaine, she obviously expected Bryce to reciprocate. When he hadn’t, she had volunteered that she was the princess’s equerry and had been away in Taures with her boss until recently.
When Bryce reminded Elaine that their identities were supposed to remain secret until midnight, she had sounded frustrated but had danced with him readily enough. “You’re new to Merrisand, aren’t you?” she commented as he swung her into a waltz.
“Very.” He knew she expected more from him, but didn’t feel inclined to elaborate. He hadn’t danced since Yvette became too ill, and was regretting the impulse to start again now. Not because Elaine wasn’t a good dancer. She was light on her feet and followed his lead easily. And behind her striking gold mask, her features hinted at attractiveness. No, he was the problem, feeling uncomfortable holding her in his arms.
Strange. He hadn’t felt that way when he assisted the princess earlier. She had fitted against his side as if she belonged there. Also missing was the tug of guilt he’d so often felt after catching himself enjoying some small pleasure. Yvette had been such a generous soul that she wouldn’t want him to feel guilty on her account, yet he hadn’t been able to dismiss the feeling.
Until this evening.
“My mind was wandering,” he told Elaine. True enough.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she murmured, matching her steps to his as he picked up the rhythm again.
“It’s nothing personal. I’m out of practice at this.” Also true.
“She is lovely, isn’t she?” Elaine said.
He didn’t insult her by pretending not to know who she meant. “Yes. Also very popular.” The crowd around Giselle had only lessened for the interval while supper was served.
“You wouldn’t be the first man at the castle to fall in love with her.”
Bryce felt his muscles tighten and made an effort to relax them. “You sound just like my daughter.”
He could almost hear Elaine’s thoughts as she added this up. Out of practice at dancing, and with a daughter. Therefore probably widowed or divorced. “How old is your daughter?”
As he heard the interest in her voice sharpen, he regretted even more asking her to dance. Then he reminded himself that he was the one using her to take his mind off the princess. “Ten, and an authority on celebrities, courtesy of her favorite magazine, Fame and Fortune.”
“I read that magazine, too. They did an article recently about the princess and Robert Gaudet.”
He nodded. “According to the writer, they’re practically engaged.”
Now who was fishing? he thought. As Giselle’s right-hand woman, Elaine could be expected to know whether there was any truth in the article. He told himself he was merely curious.
Elaine’s smile became artful. “You’d have to ask Her Highness about that.”
He had to admire her discretion, although he couldn’t help wondering who else her reticence was serving. As long as Giselle was committed to the actor, Bryce was wasting his time fantasizing about her. Especially when there was a lovely, available woman much closer to hand. Or so he could imagine Elaine wanting him to think.
Maybe she was right. He had worried for some time that Amanda was suffering for lack of a mother’s influence. He had tried to compensate by letting her spend time with her maternal grandmother, until he became aware that Babette was spoiling her hopelessly.
He thought he understood his mother-in-law’s motives. Having lost her daughter, she was afraid of losing Amanda, too. Bryce hadn’t been able to make her see that being overly indulgent wouldn’t help.
When Babette and Lyle Monroe learned that he was taking Amanda away from Nuee, they had acted as if he was taking their child away instead of their granddaughter. Provoked by their example, Amanda had accused him of ruining her life. She still had bouts of difficult behavior, too many for his peace of mind sometimes. He hoped that by removing her from her grandparents’ influence, he would eventually make her understand that his decision had been for her good.
The dance ended and he thanked Elaine. On impulse, he asked, “Would you like some champagne?”
Under her mask she looked flushed, whether with the dancing, or at his offer, he didn’t know. Had she expected him to desert her the moment the music stopped? He wasn’t proud of having considered the idea.
“Champagne would be lovely, thank you.”
He signaled to a passing waiter and lifted two flutes from his tray, gave one to her and toasted her with his own. “Thank you for your patience.” It was more than he deserved.
She drank the toast without comment. “Will I see you again?”
He couldn’t bring himself to promise anything while his gaze kept being pulled on invisible strings to where Giselle sat among her admirers.
Among a crowd of glittering people, she seemed to glow. Everything about her, from her crowned head to her slippered feet, shone with a brilliance that threatened to dazzle him. The mask prevented him from seeing all of her face but he had seen her picture often enough to know that her skin was flawless and porcelain toned, her opalescent gaze deep enough for a man to drown in.
He felt desire stirring, and warning bells rang in his brain. It didn’t escape him that her lack of availability might be the reason he felt so strongly attracted to her. Coward, he told himself. Fixating on a woman he couldn’t have was one way to avoid getting back into a game he had sworn he had given up two years before.
He hauled in a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something noncommittal to Elaine, but she spoke first. “It’s almost midnight. I should see if the princess needs me for anything.” She replaced the champagne glass on a waiter’s tray. “Thanks for the dance.”
Bryce inclined his head in agreement. “Thank you, Elaine. I’ll see you around the castle.”
But she was already weaving her way through the crowd to Giselle’s side. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him.
Elaine was exactly the sort of woman he should be interested in, he told himself. She was attractive, with a good sense of humor and the patience of a saint to put up with his inattention tonight, and she was obviously interested in him. She had even shown an interest in Amanda. What more did he need?
Fireworks, that’s what. Candlelit dinners. Nights on satin sheets. The whole romantic ball of wax. The kind he’d known with Yvette, when they were starry-eyed with the wonder of love and the joy of their beautiful girl child.
At first they hadn’t known anything was wrong, blaming the demands of a young child on Yvette’s constant feeling of lethargy. When it persisted, she’d consulted doctor after doctor, being referred to one specialist after another. None could say with certainty why stray proteins were cluttering up her blood, and what it meant.
Not that a precise diagnosis would have made much difference. Over the years, despite valiant efforts at treatment, she had grown progressively weaker until she had begged him to make the doctors stop trying. Contrarily, once they did, she had rallied, giving him a glimmer of hope that she might recover against all odds.
When she started to spiral down again, he had sought out alternative therapies, from vitamin treatments to people who could supposedly heal by touch, anything and everything. For a short time her condition would seem to improve, only to continue once more on her inexorable downward path.
Even then, they had managed to snatch happiness from despair. Yvette had never been one for self-pity, and she had loved romance. He remembered bringing her a single Carramer orchid, a perfect specimen in a vivid cerulean hue that reflected her eyes. They had filled with tears of pleasure at the sight of the bloom.
At an earlier, happier time, they had picnicked with Amanda in the rain forest on the slopes of Mount Mayat, not far from the Nuee Trail, where young riders pitted themselves against the mountain in a rite of passage to adulthood.
Watching a group of riders set out, Yvette had spoken of her dream to one day ride the trail as a family. He wasn’t sure if anyone else had done that, and his excitement had quickened at the prospect. Not of conquering the mountain, but of sharing the adventure with the two most important people in his world.
Amanda had taken her first steps that day, he recalled, his mouth curving in nostalgia. The moment had been as much a rite of passage for her as riding the trail had been for the teenagers. He could still see his golden child pushing herself to her feet on the blanket and stumbling toward her mother, her baby eyes wide with astonishment at her own achievement.
That night he and Yvette had celebrated the milestone with a truly spectacular lovemaking, afterward wondering if they had created a brother or sister for Amanda. He had enjoyed ten magical years with Yvette, filling them with laughter and romance in spite of everything, because they had been determined to make it so.
After that, how could he settle for less?
The long and the short of it was, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. The pain accompanying the memories was too sharp. Unthinkable to put himself through it a second time.
A pang gripped him. How had he gone from thinking about a mother for Amanda, to dreaming of romance, and being gripped by needs so strong he could practically taste them? Not because of Elaine, he knew. There was only one woman in the ballroom capable of making him feel like this, and she didn’t even know she had done it.
He suspected that Princess Giselle would be horrified at his thinking. She had her own romantic agenda, and he wasn’t part of it. In spite of the rumors about her and Robert Gaudet, Bryce had caught her disapproving reaction at hearing that she could only become Keeper of the Castle if she was married. Much as she obviously coveted the job, the princess didn’t strike him as a woman who could be forced into anything.
It didn’t stop him from wanting her.
Giselle’s equerry rose from a deep curtsy. “It’s almost midnight, Your Highness. I came to see if there’s anything you need.”
“Very thoughtful of you, but there’s nothing for the moment. Have you enjoyed the ball?”
“I’ve had a great time. From the talk around me, this is the best Spring Ball ever.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
She saw Elaine’s glance go to her bandaged foot. “I realize it hasn’t been fun for you, but…”
“It’s all right, Elaine. I may not have been on the dance floor but I’ve talked my head off tonight.” With the ease of long practice she stifled a yawn before anyone saw her. “Speaking of dancing, you seemed to enjoy the last waltz.”
She saw her assistant color under the mask. “I had a fascinating partner. He wouldn’t give me a single clue to his identity.”
Me neither, Giselle thought, stifling her disappointment along with another yawn. She had hoped Elaine might have learned something about her mystery man.
He wasn’t her mystery man, she reminded herself. He was either a friend of Maxim’s or Eduard’s, or a castle employee and she would have her answer as soon as the masks came off. No mystery about him.
“He did say he’s new to the castle,” Elaine volunteered.
All Giselle had to do was access the castle’s security files and find out who had been given clearance to attend tonight’s ball. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She could eliminate the guests she knew by sight, and those who had, contrary to custom, told her their names. She had been assisting her brother to administer the Merrisand Trust since she was twenty-one. Few names on the guest list would be totally unfamiliar to her.
“He has a ten-year-old daughter, but I’m willing to bet he isn’t married,” Elaine said.
Annoyed to feel a sudden sharpening of interest, Giselle asked, “What makes you think so?”
“He told me he’s out of practice at dancing, and he came to the ball alone.”
She told herself she was only interested for her equerry’s sake, not her own. She had known Elaine since they were both teenagers, so they were as close to being friends as Giselle’s position allowed. She didn’t want to see the other woman get hurt.
“His partner may have stayed at home with their child,” the princess suggested, not liking the agitation that accompanied this idea.
Elaine chewed her lip. “It could explain why he didn’t seem eager to see me again, although I dropped a few hints. Not even to meet when the masks come off, so he can find out what I look like. Perhaps you’re right, he already has a partner.”
“Perhaps.” To her frustration, Giselle found out she didn’t want to be right for once.
“Did you speak to Prince Maxim and the Marquis about becoming Keeper of the Castle?” Elaine asked.
They had talked about the job as Elaine was helping Giselle to organize the ball. “I spoke to them. They agree I’m well qualified, but the charter is ironclad. An unmarried woman can’t hold the position.”
Elaine made a sound of annoyance. “Can’t you petition Prince Gabriel? As the governor of Taures, your father should be able to decree that the requirement is inequitable in this day and age. Men don’t have to be married to hold the job.”
Wishing she could stamp her damaged foot, Giselle nodded agreement. “You’re missing the point. My father does know it’s inequitable, but it suits my parents to have me in such a cleft stick.”
“Because they see the position as an inducement to get you to marry?”
“Precisely.”
“What about Robert Gaudet? The whole province would love it if their princess married the most eligible man in the kingdom.”
“I don’t intend ordering my life to entertain the kingdom,” Giselle said sharply, then lowered her voice, aware of the other guests within earshot. “Robert is handsome and charming. I enjoy his company. I just don’t see myself marrying him.”
“Not even if it allows you to become Keeper?”
Giselle gave her attendant a sour look. “You sound like my parents. You’d think they’d be concerned about welcoming an actor into the royal family. Thespians are hardly known for their fidelity.”
Elaine nodded. “Your parents probably feel that the decision should depend on what’s most important to you.”
Easier said than done, Giselle thought. The Keeper’s position was important to her as a matter of simple justice. By doing the job for the last few years she had earned the recognition.
It wasn’t only status she wanted but the right to put into practice some of her own ideas for the castle’s future development. She and Maxim didn’t always see eye to eye on what should be done. Invariably his will prevailed. Only when she held an equal position would her opinions carry the same weight.
Her mother had tried to assure her that she could achieve as much or more if she became the power behind the throne, but Giselle disdained such an antiquated notion. She knew Robert would love the title of prince, but he had his own stellar career. He didn’t want to be involved in the affairs of the castle. So why should she have to ally herself with him in order to do the job in her own right?
Elaine leaned closer. “Of course, the right man might make you feel differently.”
The idea struck so close to the heart of Giselle’s thinking that she almost sprang from her chair. Only a hint of pain from her foot when she put pressure on it kept her seated. “The tabloids seem to think Robert is the right man.”
“But you don’t.”
Elaine knew her too well to pose it as a question. She alone knew that Giselle had asked Robert to go to America without her so she could consider the future of their relationship. In fact, she had already done so, but Robert had asked her to think it over while he was gone. Giselle didn’t expect the time apart to make any difference. The spark simply wasn’t there.
If she needed any reminding, she had only to consider her response to the mystery man. Now there was a spark. If it had glowed any brighter, she would have gone up in flames. His very touch had been enough to set her heart racing. Yet she didn’t know his real name or anything about him. She only knew he had made her feel utterly alive and desirable.
Would she feel the same once the masks came off? As it was, she could make him into any man she wanted. Her dream lover, her Prince Charming. The mystery might be what made him seem so enticing. Somehow, she doubted it. Something in him had called to her soul like a voice in her mind, promising the earth if only she was open to possibilities.
Excitement shivered through her. She was probably letting the fantasy mood of the ball affect her more than it should, but for once she felt like indulging herself. She wanted to meet him, to stare into his eyes and discover if the spell was really there, or existed only in her mind.
And she wanted to do it on her feet.
“Please fetch me my walking cane,” she told Elaine on impulse.
Her equerry looked startled. “I thought you didn’t want to use it tonight.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Hurry, it will be midnight in a few minutes.”
The woman did as bidden, returning promptly with the cane the doctor had prescribed for Giselle’s use until she could manage unaided. The princess looked at it in distaste. The sedan chair held far more appeal, but that would mean involving her bodyguards, and their presence was hardly conducive to the scene she had in mind.
Carefully she rose to her feet. To her surprise, her foot hurt only a little more than when she was seated, even when she put all her weight on it. She was definitely improving. Not wanting to undo the doctor’s good work, she let the cane support her as she moved among her guests.
She had thought she had done her duty and spoken to absolutely everyone by now, but there were still people who wanted to congratulate her on her progress. All she was doing was walking, for pity’s sake. Babies did it every day. She tried not to let her impatience show as she responded to the well-wishers in her slow circuit of the ballroom.
Her heart picked up speed as she scanned the room. Midnight was only seconds away and some people were already reaching to undo their masks. The orchestra struck up a bright tune and someone began a countdown. Her gaze became frantic. Where was he?
He was tall enough to stand out from the crowd, so she should have no difficulty picking him out. A wide-shouldered man in a dark suit had her heart double-timing until he turned around and she recognized him as a teacher from the castle school where she lectured in royal history.
Three. Two. One.
With a happy crescendo, the orchestra played into the moment. Laughter bubbled around her as faces were revealed, some expected, some obviously causing surprise. Nowhere could she see her mystery man. He had vanished as if into her imagination.
“There you are.”
Maxim stepped in front of her, his mask dangling from his fingers. Reaching out, he unfastened hers and looped it over his hand. She wanted to wrench it back to hide her features from his searching gaze.
It was too late. “You don’t look very happy for a woman who will soon be the toast of Merrisand. Thanks to your hard work and planning, this year’s ball looks like it will break all fund-raising records for the trust.”
“I’m delighted of course,” she managed to say.
“I knew it was too soon for you to be walking. You’re in pain, aren’t you?”
Only if you counted the ache in her heart. “I’m fine,” she insisted. She wanted to ask her brother if he knew what had become of the man who had offered her his arm at the start of the ball, but that would be far too revealing. They might be grown up, but her brother wasn’t above teasing her as if they were still children, and she didn’t think she could stand being teased about this.
She felt as if something precious had been offered then snatched away. She didn’t know his name or what he looked like. Why had he left before midnight? He might at least have dropped a shoe so she would have some way to start looking for him. But this wasn’t a fairy tale, and he—not she—was the quarry this time.
As soon as she could, she would go through the guest list name by name. Whatever it took. For now she would blame curiosity for the desire flaring incandescently through her. Only curiosity, nothing more.
Nothing she would allow herself, anyway.

Chapter Three
“That’s all for today. Class dismissed.”
The children streamed out of the classroom, bowing or curtsying as they passed her. Acknowledging them with a smile, Giselle stood up. It was great to do so without pain, and without having to depend on that wretched walking stick.
It was propped by her desk, but she could now move around the classroom unaided. By working at her physiotherapy exercises, she should be able to discard the stick altogether in a few more days.
The sessions had been tedious, only relieved by thinking about her mystery man. She still didn’t know who he was, having been too busy catching up on the backlog of work to investigate. A substitute teacher had taken over her class while she was in Taures City, and Max had handled the most pressing of her royal duties, but many tasks had piled up in her absence.
Then as soon as she managed to find some time for herself, a virus had crashed the network of computers serving the executive offices, leaving her unable to access the staff files. She had been assured the problem would be fixed today, so she would have an answer soon.
Why was an answer so important? She hadn’t even danced with him. And felt irritated knowing how much she had wanted to. As he escorted her around the ballroom, he had felt strong and dependable. She could easily imagine how his arms would feel if they came all the way around her.
Annoyance flashed through her like quicksilver. He was a phantom, most likely of her imagination. At least the strength and beauty of him. Without the mask and in broad daylight, his charms would probably have vanished. Besides, she had more pressing concerns right here.

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