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The Simply Scandalous Princess
Michele Dunaway


Princess Receives Royal Treatment From King's AdviserSources reveal that General Montcalm has been issued a royal directive: determine if youngest princess Lucia Carradigne is fit to be queen of Korosol. But this assignment may prove more risky to the general than taking a bullet for his king. Seems as if the beautiful princess is testing his resolve–against seduction. And what normal man wouldn't want to fail such a test with the tempting, much younger woman? Still, accounts of the military hero indicate he would never woo the king's granddaughter from the throne to satisfy his own desires. Then again–has his "investigation" wobbled off course? In this quest for a queen, perhaps he'll win a wife!Get all the facts inside…as a search for an heir to the throne leads to scandals of royal proportions for the Carradigne: American Royalty









“It’s not proper, Princess.”


“I don’t care.” Lucia smiled. “My name is Lucia and when we are alone I want you to use it. Being friends will help this process go so much smoother. Besides, it will fit in with your investigation as to my suitability for the throne. So since you want to find out the truth about me, I suggest you spend time with me and judge me for yourself.”

“I don’t believe that this is necessarily a good idea.”

“Why not?”

As Lucia threw the challenge back into his face, he asked himself the same question. Why not? The answer was simple. Lucia Carradigne was as off-limits as a nuclear reactor.

Lucia. He said her name mentally, rolling it silently over his tongue. He could imagine calling her by her name during lovemaking.

He shook his head, clearing it. Lucia may be a touch of heaven, but his job did not include holding it.


Dear Reader,

Welcome to Harlequin American Romance, where our goal is to give you hours of unbeatable reading pleasure.

Kick starting the month is another enthralling installment of THE CARRADIGNES: AMERICAN ROYALTY continuity series. In Michele Dunaway’s The Simply Scandalous Princess, rumors of a tryst between Princess Lucia Carradigne and a sexy older man leads to the king issuing a royal marriage decree! Follow the series next month in Harlequin Intrigue.

Another terrific romance from Pamela Browning is in store for you with Rancher’s Double Dilemma. When single dad Garth Colquitt took one look at his new nanny’s adorable baby girl, he knew there had to be some kind of crazy mixup, because his daughter and her daughter were twins! Was a marriage of convenience the solution? Next, don’t miss Help Wanted: Husband? by Darlene Scarlera. When a single mother-to-be hires a handsome ranch hand, she only has business on her mind. Yet, before long, she wonders if he was just the man she needed—to heal her heart. And rounding out the month is Leah Vale’s irresistible debut novel The Rich Man’s Baby, in which a dashing tycoon discovers he has a son, but the proud mother of his child refuses to let him claim them for his own…unless love enters the equation.

Best,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance


The Simply Scandalous Princess

Michele Dunaway






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my diamond in the rough—let love polish you. Always know that I will always treasure the memories, and that age never matters in affairs of the heart.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


In first grade Michele Dunaway knew she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up, and by second grade she wanted to be an author. By third grade she was determined to be both. Born and raised in a west county suburb of St. Louis, Michele recently moved to five acres in the rolling hills of Labadie. She’s traveled extensively, with the cities and places she visits often becoming settings for her stories.

Michele currently teaches high school English, raises her two young daughters and describes herself as a woman who does too much but doesn’t want to stop.

Michele loves to hear from readers and you can write to her at P.O. Box 53, Valley Park, MO 63088. Please enclose a SASE.




Books by Michele Dunaway


HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

848—A LITTLE OFFICE ROMANCE

900—TAMING THE TABLOID HEIRESS

921—THE SIMPLY SCANDALOUS PRINCESS










Contents


Chapter One (#u583d66f1-8c2c-5d8e-9f73-f3424e3a7d31)

Chapter Two (#u998bbad4-43ff-5a88-8d68-ef7e9ecc646b)

Chapter Three (#ufda72455-a811-5ad9-9f0d-f84fdc2b4d3c)

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)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


It wasn’t necessarily a dirty job, but someone had to do it. As always, Sir Harrison Montcalm, retired general of the Korosol Royal Army, was that man.

He glanced at his watch as he waited for the private elevator that would take him upstairs. One thing he always prided himself on was his punctuality. Never, in all his years of being a trusted adviser, had he been late for a meeting with King Easton, ruler of Korosol.

As Harrison stepped inside the elevator, he brushed off a piece of lint that dared to alight on the left sleeve of his custom navy suit. One other thing Harrison had always prided himself on was his appearance. At forty-five, he still kept his six-foot frame perfectly fit. Now, of course, it took him an extra half hour in the gym to keep trim, and he’d long ago given up worrying or caring anything about the graying temples that graced his dark brown hair.

As the constant companion to the king, Harrison knew his appearance was important. He was nearly always by the king’s side. Besides, if a seventy-eight-year-old King Easton could look fifteen years younger, Harrison figured he could too.

He contemplated that as the elevator silently whirred upward.

Not that he’d want to be thirty again. His son Devon would turn thirty in just two years, and Harrison was glad that Devon, a captain of the Royal Guard, hadn’t had the wild, careless youth that Harrison had had.

Getting someone pregnant at age seventeen and marrying her out of duty wasn’t a life he’d wish on anyone. Then again, duty was all Harrison really knew.

And it was duty, and a loving devotion to King Easton, that drove Harrison. He’d do anything for his king, and that included doing the upcoming job he dreaded. Even taking a bullet for Easton twenty years ago had been easier. He’d simply reacted, loyalty and duty instinctive.

He’d been knighted for his bravery, which had only committed Harrison further into the service of his beloved king.

Harrison glanced at his watch again. For some reason, today the elevator seemed slower than normal. He tapped his forefinger on the mahogany panel. He was overreacting.

He had to admit the truth.

It wasn’t his appearance, or his age, or his failed marriage that bothered him right now. No, what was bothering him was the upcoming job that King Easton wanted him to do.

For the first time in his life, Harrison wished he wasn’t the most trusted adviser and that someone else could fill his role. The upcoming assignment was a job that Harrison knew he would be uncomfortable doing.

Sure, he’d handled worse jobs, dirtier jobs, and even more dangerous jobs. But this job…For once he dreaded duty.

As Harrison stepped off the elevator, Eleanor, King Easton’s secretary, stood. “Right on time,” she said. “He said to send you straight in as soon as you arrived.”

“Thanks, Ellie.” The plush carpet muffled the sound of Harrison’s Italian shoes.

“You’re welcome,” Ellie answered in English. A slight accent tinged her voice. Although French was the official language of Korosol, while in America, the royal party spoke fluent English. Ellie nodded toward double doors that marked the entrance to the inner sanctum of the king’s American embassy office. A gold Korosolan seal adorned each of the heavy mahogany doors. “Between you and me, he’s particularly agitated today.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Harrison said with what he hoped passed for a reassuring smile.

He and Ellie had become good friends from working so closely with the king these past few years, and Harrison knew that underneath her dowdy skirts and her large glasses, Eleanor Standish had the makings of a knockout. It was probably good she hadn’t discovered it yet, he mused, or some young man would have snatched the twenty-six-year-old from Easton’s service. Right now, with the king’s health being questionable, the monarch needed to be Ellie’s full focus.

Harrison knocked on the door, the sharp staccato echoing as he waited for Easton’s “Enter.” Upon hearing it, Harrison walked into the king’s sanctum.

“Ah, right on time as usual,” Easton said. He glanced up from where he sat behind a large desk. As Harrison approached, Easton put a stack of papers aside.

Harrison executed a bow, one perfected over the years. By now Easton had stopped asking Harrison to perform it. He’d long ago learned that no matter how many times he told Harrison not to bow when they were alone, the younger man would always observe proper etiquette when greeting his king.

“Your Grace,” Harrison said. His eyes narrowed as his gaze studied the king. Easton looked a little paler today. Despite his advanced age, Easton still had a full head of gray hair. It may have thinned, but it still made him look younger. Today, however, Easton just looked tired and drawn. He even seemed slightly shrunken, not quite the six feet that still commanded a formidable but wise presence even when seated. Harrison made one more quick assessment of the king’s appearance. With the stress he’d been under lately Harrison wasn’t too surprised.

Easton hadn’t been in New York City for twenty years. That year had been traumatic for Easton. First there had been the failed assassination attempt. Then, following quickly on the heels of that tragedy, King Easton had had to travel to America to bury his youngest son, Drake. He had died when his private plane crashed.

Recently diagnosed with a rare blood condition of unknown origin, King Easton wouldn’t be in America now if he didn’t desperately need to name an heir to the Korosolan throne.

The trip so far hadn’t been successful. Easton’s first two choices, Drake’s oldest daughters, had both turned down the opportunity to be successor to the crown.

Harrison knew that Easton didn’t need any more stress on his already overfull plate.

“Sit down, Harrison.” Easton gestured to a chair. “I’m sure you suspect why I’ve called you here for this meeting.”

“I believe I do,” Harrison replied as he sat in the overstuffed leather armchair strategically placed in front of Easton’s desk.

He waited for the king to speak. When in private with Harrison, Easton abstained from using what he called his “public speaking persona.”

Easton nodded soberly and drew in a long breath before beginning. Then he cut right to the chase. “With CeCe and Amelia now being married, and refusing the crown, that leaves only my granddaughter Lucia.”

At Easton’s mention of Charlotte Carradigne’s youngest daughter, Harrison’s gut churned. Only years of practice allowed him to school his face into a neutral mask. He pushed the image of the beautiful blonde out of his mind. He didn’t need to think of Lucia. She’d already haunted him enough.

“Lucia is all I have left of Drake’s lineage to be queen,” Easton stated flatly. “I didn’t think it would come to this, but it has. I thought it would be simple, name CeCe and go home. As we know, that didn’t happen.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Harrison said. Then, because only he could take the liberties afforded to him as the king’s right-hand man, he said, “I know how disappointed you are that your plans went awry. But do you think Lucia is suitable?”

Easton sighed before replying, and Harrison saw at once how deeply the whole matter truly had affected his beloved king. “You know me so well, Harrison. In fact, I wonder if Drake had lived, if he and I would have shared the friendship we do.”

Easton’s hand shook slightly as he reached slowly for the crystal goblet in front of him. As usual, Ellie had already refilled it with fresh ice water.

Before continuing, Easton took a long drink. “To answer your question, I don’t know about Lucia’s suitability. I never would have questioned it, except for the tabloid article.”

“It was quite embarrassing,” Harrison agreed.

“Exactly. Krissy Katwell is a menace.” Easton named with distaste the tabloid columnist that kept digging up and exposing the Carradigne family skeletons.

“That woman is dragging the Carradigne name through the proverbial mud,” the king said. “This latest mess, interviewing Lucia’s ex-fiancé is reprehensible. She quoted him as saying my granddaughter is a fast-and-loose woman.”

Easton’s forehead creased and Harrison winced. Easton’s stress level had just visibly risen, making his face appear even more drawn. “Of course,” Easton continued, “the tabloid article leaves out the fact that the man was a gold digger only after the family fortune. Have you seen any unacceptable behavior?”

Only my own. Harrison shook his head. “I saw no inappropriate behavior on Lucia’s part at the wedding reception a month or two ago, sir. Even though she brought a rock musician as a date to CeCe’s wedding to Shane O’Connell, she displayed nothing but the utmost decorum. She behaved as any princess should.”

Except when she trembled in my arms. Harrison pushed that unsettling thought away. That memory was forbidden, and he didn’t need or want to remember that. Lucia Carradigne was strictly off-limits, and should have been that night as well. He should have known better, been more prepared.

Easton didn’t seem to sense his friend’s momentary discomfort. “Although at CeCe’s reception Lucia behaved properly, I can’t risk any more negative press. To my subjects, Krissy Katwell has made Lucia sound like, well, for lack of a better word, a tramp.”

“Surely not,” Harrison said, meaning the extent of the tabloid’s damage to the princess’s reputation with the people of Korosol.

Easton misunderstood, thinking Harrison meant the tabloid’s damage to Lucia personally. “Of course Lucia isn’t a tramp. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. I wish we could sue Katwell for libel, but this is America, not Korosol. What my people must be thinking is beyond me.”

Harrison kept his mouth shut. He knew that Easton knew exactly what was occurring in Korosol, and as usual, that Easton had his fingers firmly on the pulse of his people’s views.

Easton straightened up against the back of his leather executive chair. “I need you to investigate Lucia, Harrison. I know I told you to do it earlier, but now it’s truly a priority. Time is of the essence. I must be certain that she’s fit to be queen of Korosol. I must be sure she doesn’t have any other so-called skeletons hiding in her closet, that she’s not pregnant, like CeCe was, or already married like Amelia was to Nicholas Standish.”

Harrison’s facade never changed as he looked at Easton. He’d heard this before, and Easton’s repetitiveness only emphasized the seriousness of the situation. “Yes, sir. This is a wise move on your part, and it’s a job I’m qualified to do.”

“She’s a smart one, my granddaughter Lucia,” Easton said with a slight, reminiscing smile. “She reminds me of her father. Headstrong. Independent. Dating the wrong types.”

Harrison merely nodded. He’d put off the inevitable, and now he had no choice. He’d have to be face-to-face with Lucia. Again. Facing her would be worse than facing a bullet, and he knew from actual experience how that felt.

“Harrison—” Easton’s voice called Harrison back to the present “—I truly believe that all Lucia needs is to find her true calling, as Drake did when he met Charlotte and fell in love.”

A faraway look came over Easton’s face. “I had such fears for Drake, but after he met Charlotte they were all for naught. He gave up his inappropriate playboy lifestyle and settled down. He became the perfect father and businessman. Just look at what he did with DeLacey Shipping.”

Easton placed his arms across his chest and leaned back farther in his chair. “I feel Lucia will be the same way. All she needs is guidance and direction. Like Drake, she’s the youngest child. I’ve found that the baby of the family often becomes spoiled. Since no one really bothers them much, they often do whatever they want. Maybe it’s because by that point parents are too tired from fighting with the older ones, or in this case, one parent died when the children were young. Regardless, my youngest granddaughter has become quite successful in her own right. Her jewelry is lovely, just look at the brooch she gave CeCe and the pendant she gave Amelia.”

“They were beautiful,” Harrison agreed. Here at least was a neutral topic, one that didn’t spark emotions he shouldn’t feel. “And she did provide the most exquisite pieces for that woman who just won the Golden Globe for Best Actress. What was her name? Kimberly something?”

“Exactly.” Easton nodded. “Lucia has so much undeveloped potential. She moves easily amongst celebrities, the upper crust of society, and even what we’d refer to as the common man. With a little guidance, and if she has no secrets, I believe that she could make a perfect queen for Korosol.”

Harrison nodded his agreement, unnaturally wishing to shorten the meeting. Normally, once their business was concluded, he and Easton would talk on miscellaneous topics, sometimes for hours. “I will step up the investigation immediately.”

“Good. When I first came to America in February I made it quite clear to the Carradignes that one of them would be my heir. Now it’s April and I’ve wasted enough time. Lucia knows her two sisters were my first choices. Now that they’ve declined, obviously Lucia knows she’s next. So, I’ve requested her to come to the embassy tomorrow at three.”

“Tomorrow,” Harrison echoed. He’d see her tomorrow. His mask slipped. “So soon.”

“Is that a problem?”

Harrison blinked and focused. He’d spoken the words aloud, which was totally uncharacteristic of him. “Tomorrow is fine.”

“Good. I don’t have any more time to waste.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Harrison replied. Tomorrow he would see her again. He stiffened. He had a job to do, and he knew he must remember that. Lucia Carradigne was only a job; that was all. Harrison again focused on Easton. Instead of dismissing him, Easton was still speaking. Harrison tried to pay attention.

“Do yourself one favor,” Easton said. “Be honest with Lucia about what you are doing. Tell her you are investigating her. Tell her that if I name her, you will help school her in Korosolan etiquette and customs. Our culture is different from her American upbringing. If I choose her, I don’t want her changing her mind. Tell her anything she needs to know to be a suitable queen.”

The words came out automatically, although in his mouth they tasted like sandpaper. “I can do that,” Harrison replied. I hope.

Easton broke into a wide grin, as if for the first time in a while he’d heard good news. “Excellent. Besides, this will be the perfect time for you to get to know Lucia. If my plan works as I desire, I’ll get my heir to the throne and you’ll have a daughter-in-law.”

Harrison felt as if someone had punched him in the solar plexus. Ever since CeCe’s wedding over a month ago, it had been apparent to everyone that Easton was playing matchmaker. However, until now, he had never actually voiced the words that he wanted Lucia married to Harrison’s son.

Harrison swallowed and somehow managed to answer without revealing how unsettling the thought of Lucia being with Devon was. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Perfect. Report back to me tomorrow on how the first interview went. I want to know everything. Now, call Ellie in here. I’m feeling rather tired, and I believe I’ll go back to Charlotte’s apartment and rest.”

“You are feeling—”

“Fine.” Easton abruptly cut off Harrison’s statement of concern. “I have a few years left in me, and I refuse to believe that whatever this disease I’ve contracted is incurable like the doctors maintain. Now, fetch Ellie for me, and I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Harrison rose and executed another perfect bow before turning and leaving Easton’s office.

Upon seeing Harrison, Ellie rose and immediately went into the office. Harrison stepped into the embassy’s private elevators and pushed the button. He was staying in the staff apartments on the fifth floor, and the light glowed ominously, as if sealing his fate.

He’d known this “investigation” was inherent, and for once, he’d put it off. Easton had had to ask twice. Although the monarch didn’t seem to mind, Harrison had procrastinated. He never hesitated. He always took the initiative, even finishing tasks early. But not this time.

His reasoning was simple. He couldn’t tell Easton everything. He couldn’t tell him the truth. For how could he tell his king, his boss, his friend, that he’d already compromised his position? It had happened over a month ago, the very moment he had first set eyes on Lucia Carradigne at her sister’s wedding reception.

CECE’S WEDDING.

As usual, work had come before pleasure. Thus, Sir Harrison Montcalm had missed all the glitz and glitter of the society event of the season—the wedding of CeCe Carradigne and Shane O’Connell. He hadn’t minded. He loved his job.

Therefore, he had been at the embassy checking to see if there were any rumors from Korosol or within the local Korosolan community about Markus’s activities. Harrison relished this job. Deep in his gut Harrison never had liked the king’s grandson. Harrison’s dislike ran so deep that he suspected Markus was responsible for his parents’ deaths over a year ago, a suspicion brought to him and Easton by some of Byrum and Sarah’s friends who had been on the safari at the same time. It was an awful suspicion to have, but Harrison knew how much Prince Markus wanted the throne. But had the king’s grandson stooped to murder? Harrison was determined to find out.

So duty had come before pleasure and Harrison had arrived at the wedding reception after it was already in full swing, long after the dinner plates of the multiple courses had been whisked away. He’d arrived just in time to watch Devon get rid of the very uninvited Krissy Katwell.

And then he’d seen her.

Whoever she was, she was beautiful.

He’d never been partial to blondes, but her dark blond hair perfected her radiant skin tone. The silken strands hung in loose ringlets around her face.

Her smile was wide and wonderful, and just seeing her direct it at someone else had the power to stop Harrison’s heart.

Her ball gown’s color challenged angels in its brilliance. The striped, form-fitting gown in the Korosolan colors of royal blue and silver only accented her radiance. What little makeup she wore only enhanced her natural beauty.

Even from where he stood on the edge of the dance floor, he could see that her eyes were green. How he could see her eyes from ten feet away was incomprehensible, but somehow Harrison could see, and he just knew.

From afar he basked in her glow, feasting on her beauty like a thirsty man seeing water. For a moment time seemed to stop, and frozen there he knew he’d never felt this way before.

She seemed to sense his scrutiny, for she turned her head and ran her gaze quickly over him. He felt the electric shock from just her look. Then the waltz turned her graceful body away from him.

As the connection broke, Harrison shook himself. Way too young, he told himself simply. Whoever she was, from the way she moved and looked he guessed her to be not more than twenty-six. He had a son older than that.

“Excuse me.”

Harrison started as a soft, feminine voice floated over to him. He turned slightly, and there she was. In heels she stood just about eye to eye with his six-foot figure. Up close, her willowy grace was pure beauty, and he blinked just to see if she was truly real or simply the vision of a lonely man.

She touched his sleeve, her fingertips light as feathers. “Would you care to dance?”

Would he? He shouldn’t. Excuses rose to his lips. “I…”

“Please,” she said softly, her voice a mere silken whisper. “From your uniform I know you’re Korosolan, and I would be so grateful. See that man coming this way?” She gestured a manicured finger toward a man headed in their direction. His bright red hair offset his freckles and contrasted with his ill-fitting tuxedo. “That’s Larry Zimmer, and no matter how many times I say no, he can’t get the picture. Would you perform the duty of helping a lady in distress?”

“I would be honored to,” Harrison said. Under the guise of duty, he took the arm she offered. A frisson of desire shot through him as he guided her to the dance floor.

She linked her hands to his. “Thank you,” she said as another waltz began.

Harrison struggled to make light of the moment as he led her around the dance floor. “So you would rather dance with an old man to escape a young one?”

As if she found his comment funny, her smile widened. “What old man? You mean my grandfather? We danced earlier.”

Harrison returned her smile with one of his own. “I meant…”

“I know what you meant,” she said simply. Her green-eyed gaze held his. “But I figured you needed an excuse. If not, you may never have asked me.”

He wouldn’t have, either. “You’re right,” he admitted.

“I know,” she replied. “So I helped you along.”

Was this woman magic? She’d somehow seen right through him.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. And he was. For holding her felt as if he was holding a slice of heaven.

As the music shifted pace, he drew her a little closer. She smelled like roses, and her skin felt like the softest silk. There, during the moments on the dance floor, Harrison found himself feeling younger, feeling more alive than he’d been in years.

His fingers once grazed the small of her back, and an electric tremor shot through him as her eyes darkened to jade.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” she said.

Speak again, Harrison thought, for to my ears your words are like the purest music.

“As are you,” he replied instead.

She simply acknowledged his return compliment with a slight inclination of her head.

Time never stops for love, Harrison thought as the musical number drew to an end.

“I believe he’s gone,” he whispered as he guided her off the dance floor.

“He is, but I’d still like to dance with you,” she said. “Perhaps this next number?”

“There you are!”

Harrison turned as King Easton came up to him. Being the same height, and after working with the king for such a long time, Harrison wondered why he hadn’t noticed the particular color of Easton’s eyes before. They reminded him of…

“I see you’ve met Lucia.”

Harrison turned to see whom Easton was referring to.

“Hello again, Grandfather,” Lucia replied. She kept her fingers lightly on Harrison’s arm. “Are you enjoying the reception?”

“Absolutely,” Easton replied. He gestured, and Harrison watched as his son, Devon, came forward. “Here she is, Devon. She was dancing with your father. Now take her out on the dance floor. Lucia’s too young to spend her time with all us elderly types.”

Harrison grimaced. How old that made him sound!

Lucia gently removed her fingers. “Thank you for the dance,” she said politely.

Devon gave her a low bow. “May I have this dance, Princess Lucia?”

“You may, Sir Montcalm,” she said as she took his arm.

Harrison watched her go. She glanced back over at him, and then as if remembering her role, she slid into a neutral facade and followed Devon’s lead.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” King Easton asked. “While I’m partial to CeCe’s beauty because she’s so much like my beloved Cassandra,” Easton mentioned his deceased wife, “one has to admit that Lucia has an innate beauty that is all her own.”

“Indeed,” Harrison somehow managed to agree noncommittally. The woman he had been dancing with was Princess Lucia!

“They make such a perfect couple.” Easton nodded with a contented smile. “Don’t you agree?”

Harrison looked at where his son held Lucia. She’d bowed her head, and was listening to something he said. A pang of jealousy shot through him. He tamped it down. His duty was, as always, to his king. “They make a good couple,” he stated, although his heart wasn’t anywhere near the words.

“I think so,” Easton said, obviously pleased that Lucia and Devon were beginning their second dance. “Ah, there’s Charlotte. Please excuse me, Harrison.”

Harrison bowed as the king moved away. Then he turned and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He’d had nothing to drink all evening, for Harrison never drank while in any type of royal capacity, but for tonight he’d make an exception with one glass.

After all, when the woman of your dreams is designated for your son, a little champagne can’t hurt.

“Shall we dance again?”

He tensed. He’d know her voice anywhere; already it had imbedded itself into his consciousness and into his soul.

“That wouldn’t be proper, Princess Lucia,” he replied, his tone deliberately cool.

“Proper?” Lucia frowned. Then a small tight smile came over her face. “Ah, Sir Harrison Mont-calm, man of duty, is back in full armor.” She saw his surprise. “Your son spent most of his time talking about you, and your many accomplishments.” She lifted a glass of champagne from a waiter and drained it in two gulps.

“Well, Sir Harrison Montcalm, I’m sure someone will fill you in that I’m not always proper. In fact, my date is that rock musician over there. I only brought him because it would annoy my mother, and keep her from playing matchmaker.”

With a thump, Lucia placed her empty champagne flute on a nearby table. Harrison winced for the flute.

“While I know all the correct etiquette, I find most of it boring and plain dull,” Lucia said.

She stepped toward him, her voice lowered for emphasis. “For some reason I thought you were different. I felt a connection between us, something I can’t exactly explain. I wanted to explore it, for whatever it was, I thought it was special.”

How her words hurt. Harrison so wanted to tell her that yes, he had felt it too. But duty came first. It always did.

Doing his duty meant he couldn’t tell her he’d felt it. He couldn’t even be with her. She was a princess.

As much as he wanted to tell her, to explain his reasoning, he kept silent.

For a brief second Lucia looked hurt, and Harrison’s stomach churned as her chin rose stubbornly.

“I could order you to dance, couldn’t I?” she asked, her gaze never leaving his.

“That you could, Princess.”

Lucia nodded, her look now bitterly disappointed. He hated hurting her. “I thought so. Good night, Sir Montcalm.”

And with that, she strode off toward her date, a man whose hair was longer than Lucia’s.

Harrison set his full flute of champagne down, the bubbly golden liquid untouched. Dancing with her had been a touch of heaven, but Harrison had learned long ago that heaven was not his to have.

He, retired general, Sir Harrison Montcalm, was one, too old for her, and two, not of her social circle. He could not ever have a relationship with a princess, especially the granddaughter of his king, his friend. With a heavy heart, he had turned away.




Chapter Two


The next day Lucia Carradigne was late for her interview.

Harrison paced the plush office allotted him during his stay at Korosol’s American embassy. Knowing he’d be seeing her again, he’d dressed even more impeccably than usual for the meeting. He wore a navy blue suit, a tie with the Korosolan crest and a white starched shirt.

Ellie had joked that morning that she’d never seen Harrison looking that put together. He’d run across Markus that morning as well, who since his return from Europe had been lurking around the embassy more than ever. Markus, of course, never missed an opportunity to dig at Harrison. He’d told Harrison he looked like a pallbearer.

Harrison glanced again at his Rolex, a gift from King Easton commemorating twenty-five years of service to the royal family.

Lucia Carradigne was now a half hour late.

A knock sounded at the door, and Harrison turned from where he’d been staring out the window at the United Nations Building.

“Come in,” he called.

“Harrison.” As Devon entered the room, Harrison’s face fell.

“Devon.” He greeted his twenty-eight-year-old son easily, although honestly he didn’t feel at ease around Devon. After Mary’s sudden death from pneumonia, he’d sent the then sixteen-year-old Devon to military school. His son, the serious young man in front of him, was now a man he barely knew.

They couldn’t be more apart, despite their similarities. Sure, they both had a military-cut hairstyle. Devon’s color was a lighter brown, and was minus the gray that graced Harrison’s head. They shared hazel eyes. But they didn’t share the closeness of a father and son.

One more of the regrets in his life, Harrison mused with a twinge of bitterness.

If Devon sensed his father’s thoughts, he didn’t indicate it. Instead, the captain of the Royal Guard and person in charge of Korosol security got right to business.

“I wanted you to know that I’m getting a little closer to where Krissy Katwell may be getting her information. I’ve been able to secure some of her telephone records,” Devon said.

“Legally, of course,” Harrison interjected. Inwardly he winced when he saw Devon’s expression. Of course his son would do things legally. Devon was a by-the-book type of man.

“Of course,” Devon said, quickly covering up his own hurt at being second-guessed by his father.

“Good work,” Harrison said, trying to repair his gaffe. “I’m sure you’re quite on top of things.”

“Yes,” Devon replied. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “King Easton sent me down here. He said that you were interviewing Princess Lucia and he suggested that it might be to my benefit for security reasons to be present for the interview.”

Another matchmaking attempt, Harrison thought with an inward groan. He studied his son thoughtfully for a moment. Devon didn’t seem too keen, or too overly eager, to be a part of the interview.

But then, Devon would do what the king wished, no matter what his personal feelings were. Besides, if Devon had personal feelings for the princess, Harrison doubted his son would share them with his father. They’d never been close enough to have ever once shared personal confidences.

“I think I can handle it on my own,” Harrison said smoothly. “I believe having to face two Mont-calm men might be a bit overwhelming, even for a princess.”

“True.” Devon nodded. “But King Easton was most insistent.”

“I’ll explain your absence to the king,” Harrison said, sealing his own fate irrevocably. “Right now your time is better spent on discovering where Krissy Katwell is getting her information. You know from our meeting earlier this week about Easton and my suspicions as to her source, and hence, time is of the essence. Krissy Katwell has already done quite a bit of damage to the Carradigne name. She needs to be stopped, and her source silenced.”

“Understood.” Devon deferred to the judgment of his father, and technically his superior in rank. “I’ll report back to you as soon as I know more.”

“Very good.” Harrison glanced at his watch again. He frowned. Lucia was now forty-five minutes late.

Not a good sign for someone who wanted to be queen. He glanced up at Devon, who was still standing in the office.

Devon had a strange, questioning look on his face as he studied his father. “Harrison, is something wrong?”

It had always bothered Harrison that Devon never called him “Dad” or even “Father.” But he didn’t dwell on that now. “Princess Lucia was supposed to be here at three.”

Devon frowned. As captain of the Royal Guard, his concern was immediate. “Do you think something has happened to her?”

No. She’s making me pay for rejecting her. She’s proving who is boss. The insight hit Harrison like a freight train. Being late was the oldest female trick in the book, and here he was, pacing his office and checking his watch every minute.

As quickly as it had come, he dismissed the thought. Lucia didn’t strike him as being like that. He contemplated his gut reaction a moment. Instinct told him that Lucia was nothing like Mary. Devon’s mother had used those tricks many times. Harrison’s instinct was never wrong.

“I think the princess is just running behind,” Harrison replied, giving Lucia the benefit of the doubt. “She’s a very busy lady, and I’m sure she got caught up in something that was unavoidable.”

Devon nodded. “If she doesn’t show soon, let me know and I’ll find out what’s wrong.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

At the silken female voice, both men turned toward the doorway. Harrison sucked in his breath.

Time away from her hadn’t diminished his first impressions. As always, she was beautiful. Her dark blond hair fell to her shoulders, and her green eyes darkened as her gaze found Harrison.

“Hello, Harrison,” she said.

Belatedly, Harrison remembered he needed to bow. He and Devon both scrambled and bowed low.

“Princess Lucia.” Harrison tried to maintain a formal tone as he straightened. “Please come in. It’s good to see you.” He reached for the coat she was shedding.

She gave him a genuine smile as her fingers lightly touched his while transferring the garment. “It’s good to see you too, Harrison. I trust I’m finding you well?”

“Of course,” he said, realizing too late that somehow she’d already gained the upper hand by again calling him by his first name.

“Are you going to be present for this interview, Sir Devon?” As Lucia turned and faced the younger man, Harrison took a moment to study what Lucia wore. He’d heard she usually wore bohemian-type clothing, like flowing skirts and peasant blouses. But today was different. Like at the wedding reception, she appeared regal, refined. Her pale pink trouser suit celebrated the start of spring. The color suited her.

“No, Princess. I was just leaving. If you’d please excuse me.” Devon bowed again and posted a hasty retreat.

Lucia turned and faced Harrison. He managed to swallow, and somehow years of training kept his face immobile. That was until she turned on the charm and smiled widely again the moment they were alone. “Yes, I must say that it’s good to see you, Harrison. I’ve been looking forward to this interview ever since my grandfather called me and told me about it.”

Harrison somehow managed an appropriate gesture to a seat. As Lucia sat down, her perfume wafted past him. She smelled like roses again.

She looked expectantly at him. “So if you’re ready?”

Inwardly Harrison groaned. Where Lucia was concerned, he doubted he would ever be ready.

SHE HADN’T MEANT to be late. But someone had slipped down onto the subway tracks, delaying the trains uptown for a good half hour.

Lucia settled herself into the chair as Harrison brought her a glass of ice water. Perhaps she should have taken a taxicab as her mother always insisted. After all, as the past two months had demonstrated, she was a princess, and therefore she could technically be a target of a kidnapping attempt. But still Lucia valued her anonymity too much to give it up yet.

She thrived in New York City’s sea of anonymous faces. A people-watcher by nature, Lucia credited a lot of her creative genius to just watching the interactions of the everyday world. The panhandler holding the cup in Times Square had inspired a collection of dimpled platinum pins. The mother nursing her child on a Central Park bench had inspired a series of interlocking linked gold bracelets with birthstones.

Even today, the successful rescue mission had been, in a sense, inspirational. New Yorkers working together—Lucia could already visualize the brooches of intertwined pieces of silver and gold metal.

If only she and Harrison could work together. Couldn’t he feel the frisson of electricity that passed through their fingertips every time they touched, like now as he handed her the water?

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Harrison replied. As he sat down across from her, she took a minute to sip her water and study him.

What was it about this man? Ever since she’d first set eyes on him, from across the dance floor, everything about him had impressed her.

She’d never been partial to short, military-style haircuts, but on Harrison, she couldn’t imagine any other thing. She’d never even thought she’d be attracted to a military man. They were too by the book, too punctual, too precise. But, with what little she’d learned of Harrison since the wedding reception, she couldn’t imagine him any other way.

“I’ve rescheduled my four-o’clock appointment so we have all the time necessary,” Harrison told her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lucia began. Then she stopped. She was a princess. Of course he would reschedule for her. But she didn’t like the idea that he thought she’d deliberately been late. Perhaps she should tell him about the subway. She sipped her water and contemplated it for a moment. No, just like her mother, he’d probably disapprove of her public-transport choices. She kept silent.

“I must ask your pardon for the nature of the questions that I’m going to have to ask, Princess,” Harrison said. “Some of them may be personal. You, of course, do not need to answer any that you do not wish to. This is not an interrogation.”

“Yes, my grandfather explained it to me.” Lucia nodded. “He wants to determine my suitability. After my sisters, I don’t blame him.”

Harrison arched his eyebrows. “You don’t? Excuse me, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“You can ask what you wish,” Lucia said. “And of course, I do not blame my grandfather, especially after what’s happened.” Lucia shook her head vigorously, which caused her hair to fall in her face. She brushed the blond strands back. “CeCe was pregnant, and Amelia already secretly married. I just hope I don’t disappoint him as well. Whereas my grandfather and I have not seen each other in years, I do care for him a great deal.”

“Well.” Harrison coughed. “Your suitability is what we’ll try to determine. First, if King Easton does declare you his heir, I must know if you are willing to accept the full role and all it entails. Are you willing to be the queen of Korosol?”

Was she? For a moment Lucia thought of her mother. Now that Charlotte had warmed to the idea of one of her daughters being queen, Charlotte had become like a dog with a meaty bone. Lucia knew that, in her mother’s eyes, she was it. Charlotte had been on Lucia’s case for days, warning her not to mess this opportunity up.

Maybe for once she wouldn’t disappoint her mother in something. Whereas her mother might wish Lucia queen, Lucia herself still had doubts. “I am quite prepared to fulfill the role if King Easton chooses me,” Lucia said, proud she managed to deliver the words without a betraying quiver in her voice.

“Then we begin,” Harrison said.

Lucia simply nodded, and for one childish moment wished she had someone there to hold her hand.

“Again, Princess, I ask your pardon in the nature of these questions, but I must ask you about your ex-fiancé Gregory Barrett and the allegations he made in Krissy Katwell’s column.”

“That what, I’m a fast-and-loose woman? In his dreams.” Hackles rose on Lucia’s spine. Realizing what her outburst must have sounded like, she covered her mouth with her fingers. “Sorry, that’s not very princesslike, but whenever I think of him, well…” She shuddered with revulsion.

“Why don’t you tell me about him?”

“The man is a liar and a cheat.” Lucia leaned forward, suddenly desperate to have Harrison’s approval. “I was twenty-three when we met at some art gallery premiere one of my mother’s favorite charities was hosting. I’m not sure what the cause was.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Harrison said. He reached forward and took a Cross pen and leather portfolio off an occasional table. “Please continue.”

She watched his fingers and thumb roll the pen between them. “You’re going to take notes?”

Harrison looked up, and Lucia saw the surprise he quickly masked, as if his reach for the items had been more of a protective device—a need to occupy his hands as if to calm nerves. “If you don’t mind. King Easton wants a full report.”

Lucia thought for a moment. Did she make him nervous? She’d have to contemplate that more at a later time. “No, I don’t mind.” She bit her lower lip, and then she remembered that her mother had scolded her out of that habit long ago. She set her lip free. “Gregory seemed to be just the type a girl could bring home to Mother, and actually, I guess that’s what I found attractive about him. Mother and I don’t necessarily have the best relationship.”

She turned to Harrison. “How does that happen?”

“What?” Harrison asked. He stopped writing, and his hazel gaze connected with Lucia’s.

“Well, two people are related by blood yet they seem to have absolutely nothing in common. I mean, look at you and Devon. He’s following in your footsteps and obviously worships you. I’m just trouble with a capital T to my mother.”

Harrison set the pen down. “I doubt your mother thinks that.”

“Oh, she does.” Lucia nodded, her hair falling in her face again. “When I chose not to go into the shipping business, I heard how much of a disappointment I was to her. I mean, she’s devoted all her life to the family company and building it. She’s the head of it, and it’s more her baby than I am. She was not happy with my choice.”

“Parents sometimes say things that they don’t mean,” Harrison said.

“It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t understand. Devon is such a success and a credit to you.”

“I’m far from the ideal father.” The admission spilled from Harrison’s mouth before he could stop it.

Lucia raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I can’t believe that.”

“Believe it.” The cat already out of the bag, Harrison cocked his head and gave Lucia a wry smile. “I failed not only my wife but my son as well. If I’d been any type of good father I would have known what to do with my son when his mother died. Instead, I shipped him off at age sixteen to the military academy. So don’t judge your mother so harshly. Perhaps she only thought she was doing what was best.”

Lucia smiled and the movement lit up her whole face. “You know, you may be right,” Lucia said finally. “My mother did work very hard to keep the shipping business going so that we could be raised in the proper environment befitting what my father would have wished. I just wish that included letting us visit Korosol, though. Since my father’s death she’s sworn off going again and so I don’t remember anything about it. I was too young.”

“It’s lovely there,” Harrison told her honestly.

“Tell me about it,” she said.

“I’ve never seen water so clear, grass so green or flowers so yellow,” Harrison said. “Part of the country is the Larella Mountains, and part is on the Mediterranean coast. There the beaches are the whitest and softest sand.”

“I’ve seen pictures,” Lucia said, “and it looks lovely. Once I even ordered the tourist brochures on the village of Aladair. I never did get to visit, though.”

Harrison smiled at her. “I’ve traveled the world, and to me, it will always be home. I can’t imagine living any other place. I guess I get my energy from the land.”

Lucia nodded. “Like Scarlett O’Hara.”

“Who?”

“The heroine in Gone With the Wind. She got her strength from the red earth of her plantation, Tara. You mean you’ve never seen the movie? It’s one of my all-time favorites.”

“Uh, no,” Harrison admitted. With his military career, he hadn’t had time to see many movies, even on video.

“We’ll have to watch it.” Lucia’s face grew animated and, despite himself, knowing he shouldn’t, Harrison delighted in watching her.

“I love classic movies,” Lucia said, “and this one won ten Academy Awards, including 1939 Best Picture. I can’t believe you haven’t seen it.”

“Well, believe it,” Harrison said with a smile.

“Then at one of these interviews we’ll watch Gone With the Wind so you’ll really know what I’m referring to.”

“Speaking of the interview, perhaps we should get back to our subject.”

At Harrison’s statement, Lucia’s euphoria fell, but she didn’t let him see. “Yes, we probably should.”

She masked her disappointment with a smile of acceptance. He’d actually talked to her—amazing. For a brief moment she’d seen him loosen up, seen him out of the role that he was so entrenched in.

Yes, she’d been right that night of the wedding reception. Harrison Montcalm was a man who was in desperate need of a little freedom from the restrictions he’d placed on his own life.

And if her mother wanted Lucia to find a proper man, Harrison was as proper as they came.

Briefly, as she watched him study his notepad, Lucia contemplated the fact that Harrison was nineteen years older than herself. She watched as his firm fingers used the pen to jot a note on the pad. She shivered slightly. Age didn’t matter. In her acquaintances with artists, musicians and people of “improper” society, according to her mother, Lucia had learned that appearances didn’t matter. It was what was inside the person that was truly important.

She wanted to know what was inside Harrison Montcalm. If her suspicious were right, and they always were, deep inside Harrison was a heart of gold.

Harrison looked up and caught her staring at him. Her cheeks flamed pink. “You were telling me about Gregory Barrett,” he said.

“Oh, right,” Lucia replied. She didn’t want to talk about Gregory. Instead, she wanted to learn about Harrison. “To make a long story short, I dated him and he literally swept me off my feet. We were engaged after two months, and we’d set a wedding date. It was when the Carradigne family lawyers insisted on a prenuptial agreement that things began to fall apart.” She paused. Then Greg’s true colors had become quite obvious.

“As for me being fast and loose, that was Greg and his mouth. He used my relationships with my friends against me. He insinuated that every male friend I had was a boyfriend so that he could make himself look like such a victim. According to him, I used him, chewed him up and spit him out. In reality, he didn’t love me. He just wanted a piece of the Carradigne pie. When the lawyers showed him how little he’d get, he said I’d cheated on him. He called me unfaithful so he could dump me like a hot potato and go after some other gullible girl with a trust fund he could pilfer.”

Harrison didn’t look up from the leather portfolio, although Lucia could tell he wasn’t writing anything. “He worked on Wall Street?”

“Had. Bad investments got him in trouble and fired. So he needed my cash, and fast.” Lucia shuddered. Gregory’s deception had made her leery of men, especially ones that Charlotte found for her. “Do you want to know if we slept together?”

Harrison’s head snapped up, and to Lucia’s surprise he physically recoiled at that announcement. “That’s not necessary.”

Lucia jutted her chin forward. To her, making Harrison understand was necessary. “Well, we didn’t. Have sex, that is.”

Harrison straightened. He seemed uncomfortable. “Princess Lucia, King Easton is not concerned about your, um, morality in your choice of, uh, companions. As long as you have been discreet before you take the throne, and as long as, once you become queen, you remain chaste in the eyes of the public until you marry, he will be satisfied that he has made a wise choice.”

“What about you?” Lucia turned the question around. “Do you think he’s made a wise choice?”

She had to give him credit. He was quick and diplomatic. “It is not my place to judge, Princess. I am just to gather the facts, and if the king chooses you, then I will be your adviser and prepare you for your transition to the throne.”

“But you have judged me,” Lucia replied, going back to her real question. He had avoided it, and somehow she knew he had judged her. She felt it deep in her bones, and her female intuition never failed her.

“No, Princess, I have not,” Harrison denied. “That is not my role as an adviser to the king.”

“So you just do what Easton tells you,” Lucia returned, her tone a bit harsh.

Harrison blinked, as if surprised by her sudden change of attitude. “I do not understand what you are insinuating, Princess. I do my job.”

For one second Lucia wondered why it mattered to her, why she was pursuing this line of conversation. But she knew. It was because of sleepless nights he’d caused her. Because of the erotic dreams she’d had. Because of the feeling of loneliness that had vanished when she’d touched him at the wedding reception. Because of a desire…

She brushed those thoughts aside. She would make him see. “Your job. Do you ever think of more than your job?”

“I think of my duty to the throne.”

She wasn’t reaching him. “What about passion? What about love?”

Harrison’s chin came forward, indicating his stubbornness. “My duty comes first.”

“So you’ve shut off those emotions,” Lucia challenged. She wondered why she suddenly felt so determined, so forceful in her questioning. She mentally cursed herself. She knew why.

“Those emotions have no place in rational judgments,” he said.

“So passion and love are bad things.”

“Passion can get people pregnant at seventeen,” Harrison retorted. “Love does not last, and can compromise duty.”

“Which you know from personal experience.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. It is not one of the better moments in my life.”

Lucia nodded, satisfied. Now she was getting somewhere. She’d been right. Harrison Montcalm had buried the passion and fire that still existed in him. Someone—she—just had to dig deep to free it and get it out.

“You don’t mind, Harrison, if I question you. After all, if I’m named queen, you’ve told me you will be my adviser.”

“I would,” Harrison answered stoically.

“Ah yes, because it would be your duty.” Lucia reached forward and refilled her water glass from the crystal pitcher sitting on the table. “Do you ever think of yourself first?”

“No.” The pen made a clicking sound as Harrison set it on the table.

“Why not?”

“Because my duty is to serve others,” he replied. “Look, excuse me, Princess, but we are getting off track here.”

“Call me Lucia, please, Harrison.”

“It’s not proper.”

“I don’t care.” Lucia smiled, giving him another infuriating smile that she knew was driving Harrison crazy. “My name is Lucia and when we are alone I want you to use it. Consider it an order if that will make your sense of duty feel better.”

“Yes, Prin—Lucia.”

“Thank you.” Lucia nodded her head. “Being friends will help this process go so much smoother, Harrison.”

“Our role doesn’t involve friendship, Princess.”

“Lucia.”

“Lucia.” His tone indicated his frustration with the entire situation.

She nodded her approval at his use of her name. “You may not like it, Harrison, but you and I should be friends. When I move to Korosol I’ll be leaving everything behind. All my friends, my family, everything I’ve held dear my entire twenty-six years. You’ll be one of the only people I’ll know. Therefore, we need to be friends.”

“That does sound logical,” Harrison conceded, and Lucia smiled. She was wearing him down. If nothing else, she was tenacious. She’d finally won her freedom from her mother—the freedom to live her life away from DeLacey Shipping. If she could do that, she could do anything—including making Harrison see things her way.

“Good.” She paused as an idea took hold. “You understand that this means we need to get to know each other as friends. Besides, it will fit in with your investigation as to my suitability for the throne. So, since you want to find out the truth about me, I suggest you spend the weekend with me and judge me for yourself.”

“It is not my role to judge,” he returned to that argument.

Lucia took a sip of water. “Ah, but you must make a report to my grandfather. Thus, if you want to really know everything there is to know about me, you need to spend time with me.”

“I don’t believe that this is necessarily a good idea.”

“Why not?”

As Lucia threw the challenge back into his face, Harrison asked himself the same question. Why not? The answer was simple. Lucia Carradigne was as off-limits as a nuclear reactor. Despite his attraction to her, today he’d managed to control himself and handle himself with the utmost decorum. For his own sanity and security, he needed to stay away from her.

Already he’d slipped up. Just by being with her he had somewhere along the line lost control of the interview. But it had a positive result. Because of it, he’d seen the real Lucia. And he liked her. A lot.

Lucia. He said her name mentally, rolling it silently over his tongue. He could imagine calling her by her name during lovemaking.

He shook his head, clearing it of that off-limits mental picture. Lucia may be a touch of heaven, but his job did not include holding it, or touching it, or tasting it. Just because she was the first woman to make him feel alive in years, that didn’t mean he had to act on it. He’d made a career of doing the right thing, acting the correct way. As soon as King Easton was satisfied with her credentials, Lucia Carradigne would be heir to the Korosol throne.

Retired generals didn’t marry princesses, or much less even become their friends. It just wasn’t done. Especially not retired generals his age with his baggage.

“Well?” Lucia’s voice cut through his disturbing thoughts. “I assume you’re deciding if you’re going to hang out with me this weekend?”

Hang out? Harrison hadn’t heard that word used in his military circle in years. With free time a premium, he never simply “hung out.” Inwardly he groaned. Lucia’s words showed how young she really was, but also how much the idea of simply “hanging out” with her appealed to him.

But he couldn’t let her know.

“I see that I have little choice in the matter,” he replied.

Lucia gave him a seductive smile. “We always have choices, Harrison. I’d just like to think that you made the correct one.”

“Time will tell.” He managed not to let her know just how much her smile, and her words, had affected him.

“Yes, it will,” she said. She glanced at her watch. How time had flown! “Speaking of the time, I didn’t realize how late it is. I’m meeting my mother and King Easton for dinner. I need to leave or I’ll be late for that, too.”

Lucia rose to her feet. “May I please have a piece of your paper?”

Harrison stood, removed his notes and handed her the leather folder and the Cross pen. Lucia took it and wrote quickly.

“Here are the directions. Meet me there at ten. Casual attire.” She looked over his business suit. “Definitely not what you have on.”

Harrison’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with your suit,” Lucia reassured him quickly. “You look, well, very nice,” she finished awkwardly.

He looked fabulous, debonair and extremely handsome, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Although she was usually very forward and proud of it, something about Harrison made her slightly shy. His opinion mattered, and today she’d already been forward enough. She blinked, trying not to contain her excitement at the prospect of a “date” with Harrison.

“Anyway,” she said, “there will probably be a line of people outside the club, so just walk by it and give your name at the door.”

Lucia pressed the piece of paper into his hand. “Until tonight at ten.”

And then, before he had a chance to bow, Lucia left the office.

HARRISON STARED after her. The proof was all there—the piece of paper crumbled in his palm, the empty water goblet, the residual smell of roses. She hadn’t been a mirage.

Why did he feel she had been?

Without her, the room seemed empty, lifeless.

Harrison slumped back down into the chair. He ran a hand thoughtfully across his chin, feeling the five-o’clock shadow that he’d need to shave away before he met up with Lucia tonight.

He couldn’t let himself look forward to the evening. But how he wanted to!

Somehow Lucia had triggered something in him, something he needed to explore. He could control it, whatever it was. After the incident with Mary, he’d made being in control a lifelong habit.

The phone on the desk buzzed and Harrison strode over to pick it up.

“King Easton would like to see you before he returns to Charlotte’s apartment,” Ellie told him. “He informs me he’s dining with Lucia and her mother tonight, and he’d like to know if you’ve discovered anything.”

Great. Easton wanted a full report already. Harrison wished he had something to say, besides Lucia’s side of Gregory Barrett’s story.

For right now, though, that would have to be enough.

“I’ll be right up,” he said, knowing that once again he was going to lie to his king. But what else could he do?

Torn, he headed toward the elevator, already rehearsing his lines.




Chapter Three


Prince Markus Carradigne was standing in the embassy’s huge atrium lobby when the elevator doors opened.

“Lucia!”

She stepped out, her surprise evident. “Markus!” She accepted the kiss her thirty-five-year-old cousin gave her on the cheek.

“What are you doing here?” Markus said pleasantly. “I’m here all the time, but I don’t think I’ve ever remembered you stepping foot in the embassy before.”

“Actually, I don’t think I ever have been here,” Lucia replied. She thought for a moment. “Maybe I came here once with my father when I was a very young child, but I don’t remember. So probably not.”

“Well, you are looking lovely. A breath of fresh air in this stuffy old place,” he said.

Lucia laughed. She’d always been fond of Markus, although lately she’d been wary of him. He’d always made no secret of his desire for the throne of Korosol, and his obsession with it—especially now that Easton was here—was almost creepy.

Still, Markus had been nothing but nice to her and he was charming. Of course, it was too bad his hairline was beginning to recede a little and his gut was starting to expand. If Harrison could keep fit, why couldn’t Markus?

The little white lie coming from her mouth slid out with ease. “What is it with people thinking everything is old lately? You look younger every time I see you. It must be that new girlfriend of yours.”

“Ah, if you weren’t my cousin, Lucia, I’d be the first in line to snatch you up,” Markus said with a laugh. “You are such a flatterer. Seriously, though, what brought you by?”

Lucia shrugged. “I had an appointment.”

Markus nodded, his blue eyes speculative. “Did it concern what I’ve been reading in the paper lately? Have Krissy Katwell’s columns shaken the king up a bit?”

“Perhaps. But you, probably better than anyone, know our grandfather. I know we all thought his choice for an heir would have been you.”

For a moment a dark shadow crossed over Markus’s face. Then it flickered away as if it hadn’t been there at all. “Yes, well, it’s his prerogative to name a successor,” he said with a slight laugh. “That’s the Korosolan law. Perhaps he’s just making sure he has left no stone unturned or something like that.”

“Perhaps he thinks it’s too soon after the death of your parents for you to deal with all the pressures of ruling.” Lucia placed a hand on Markus’s arm. “I’m still so sorry about your parents, Markus. Even after a year, it must be difficult for you.”

“Yes, it is,” Markus replied. He lifted his arm and adjusted his silk tie.

“Well, it was good seeing you. I’ve got to get going. I’m already late and you know how my mother is. She’s probably chomping at the bit that I’m not doing what’s proper.”

“You just stay true to yourself, cousin.”

“Oh, I try, Markus. I try.” Lucia accepted another kiss on the cheek. “Take care.” With that she moved through the revolving doors and out onto the sidewalk where she had the security guard hail her a cab.

Markus watched her depart and then turned as his right-hand man, Winston Rademacher, appeared at his side. “So, did your accidental encounter with Lucia confirm what we suspected?” Winston asked. His dark brown eyes were even squintier than normal as they gazed at where Lucia had been standing just moments before.

“Yes,” Markus replied. A bitterness filled him. “She had an appointment with the king. She’s obviously Easton’s next choice.”

“Really?” Winston rolled the word nastily off his tongue. “How very interesting.”

“Yes, it is,” Markus replied. The lobby was empty, although anyone overhearing the conversation would never understand the undercurrents buzzing between the two men. To anyone observing, the conversation was totally innocent.

Markus clenched his fist and shoved it in his pants pocket. “It seems as if Easton has settled on the youngest daughter now.”

“I’ll check into it,” Winston said.

Markus simply nodded. “See that you do.”

LUCIA HAD BARELY arrived at her mother’s apartment before Charlotte went on the attack. “So how did it go?” her mother asked.

“Fine,” Lucia said. She shrugged and handed Quincy, the family butler, her coat. “Sir Montcalm asked me questions and I answered them.”

“Devon?” Her mother looked excited at that prospect.

“No, Harrison,” Lucia replied.

“Oh, the older one,” Charlotte said dismissively.

“He’s younger than you,” Lucia said. Her mother gasped and inwardly Lucia winced. That had been cruel. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she entered the Grand Room.

Right now she’d rather be talking to Hester Vanderling, Quincy’s wife. Because Charlotte had been working, Hester had been Lucia’s nanny. Lucia considered Hester more of her confidante than Charlotte.

“So you didn’t see Devon?”

“Only for a moment,” Lucia said. She poured herself a tall glass of ice water. “I’m sure he has more important work to do than to sit around. Harrison handled the interview fine.”

Charlotte twisted the triple strand of freshwater pearls she wore around her neck. They had been an anniversary gift from Drake. She always wore the pearls, especially when she wore one of her designer suits. Today’s was baby blue, accenting her blue eyes and white hair. “Easton said he was going to have Devon sit in on the interview,” Charlotte said.

Lucia rolled her eyes. “He didn’t. Look, Mum, could you just stop playing matchmaker for once?”

A stricken look crossed Charlotte’s face. “You know I only want what’s best for you. Sir Devon is such a good man and so handsome.”

Not as handsome as his father, Lucia thought. She sipped her water. Plus, when she’d danced with Devon at CeCe’s reception, he hadn’t made her knees feel wobbly the way Harrison had.

“Besides,” Charlotte said, “as queen you probably need a prince consort. Who better than Sir Devon? He’s your age, and he knows everything about Korosol. Together you could outshine Princess Diana and Prince Charles in their heyday.”

“Look how that turned out,” Lucia pointed out. “I’ll marry for love, and I prefer to find it myself.”

The arrival of King Easton saved her from having to discuss the matter further.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and after being told all of Sir Devon’s merits, Lucia longed to steal off into the kitchen and talk to Hester. Finally, after Charlotte and Easton retired to Charlotte’s study to discuss a business problem of Charlotte’s, Lucia found her chance.

“Ah, wondered when you’d steal way,” Hester said. She accepted the warm kiss Lucia pressed onto the skin of her sixty-something cheek.

“I had to listen to the sale’s pitch of why I should marry Sir Devon Montcalm first,” Lucia said.

Hester nodded. “Heard them rehearsing it just the other night.”

“Well, I wish they’d stop.”

“Found someone yourself, have you?” Hester placed the last dish in the dishwasher and turned it on. “Come tell me about him.”




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