For the first time man and soldier were at odds as desire warred with duty.

He liked this woman, he wanted her physically, but if she was of the royal family his duty was to protect her against all threats—including himself. With the addictive taste of her still on his lips, he recognized the challenge that represented.

He knew his duty—lived and breathed it day in and day out. Duty was what kept the soldier from kissing her when she so obviously wanted a kiss as much as he wanted to get his mouth on her. The shadow of hurt as she moved away drew the man in him forward as he sought to erase her pain.

And his.

Now might be the only time he had with her—this time of uncertainty while the DNA test was pending. Once her identity was confirmed, she’d be forever out of his reach …

About the Author

TERESA CARPENTER believes in the power of unconditional love, and that there’s no better place to find it than between the pages of a romance novel. Reading is a passion for Teresa—a passion that led to a calling. She began writing more than twenty years ago and marks the sale of her first book as one of her happiest memories. Teresa gives back to her craft by volunteering her time to Romance Writers of America on a local and national level.

A fifth-generation Californian, she lives in San Diego, within miles of her extensive family, and knows that with their help she can accomplish anything. She takes particular joy and pride in her nieces and nephews, who are all bright, fit, shining stars of the future. If she’s not at a family event, you’ll usually find her at home—reading, writing or playing with her adopted Chihuahua, Jefe.

The Making of a Princess
Teresa Carpenter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my editorial team at Mills & Boon Cherish past and present. Thank you for your patience, encouragement and insight. We make a stellar team.

PROLOGUE

Princess Camp

AMANDA CARN SHRUGGED INTO her backpack then grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase. Slowly, reluctantly she followed her roommates and new best friends from the cabin they’d shared for the past two weeks.

She’d had the time of her life here at Princess Camp and she wasn’t ready for it to end. She’d never be ready for it to end.

“Amanda, come on.” Michelle, a bouncing blonde dressed as Sleeping Beauty, waved her along. “If we don’t get to tea early, we won’t get to sit together.”

“I’m not hungry.” She winced at the petulant note in her voice. She detested petulance.

Grandmother’s displeasure came across as petulant, and oh how she would hate it if she knew. A professor at an elite Northern California University, she was a brilliant woman, disciplined in both manner and emotion. She rarely allowed a show of temper, which was a good thing, because it wasn’t a pretty look on her.

“Well, I’m starved.” Elle, beautiful as Belle, gave Michelle a significant look and they both came back to hook an arm through each of Amanda’s, drawing her forward.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” she whispered, not wanting it to be a whine.

“I’m going to miss the scones,” Elle declared. “Hurry.”

“Our time’s not up yet, silly.” Michelle told Amanda, refusing to be rushed. “We have the tea, and then the closing ceremony. There’s lots of time left.”

Something in her voice made Amanda turn to study Michelle’s profile. “You don’t want to leave, either.”

“None of us want to leave.” Elle sighed, brushing her mahogany curls behind her. “But I don’t want our last day to be sad either.” She stopped on the path and turned to face them. “We have to all promise to come back next year.” She held up her hand, little finger raised high. “Pinkie swear you’ll do everything you can to come back.”

Michelle immediately hooked her pinkie finger with Elle’s. “I’ll start working on my dad as soon as I get home. He owes me for missing parents’ day.”

Amanda’s hand curled into a fist as sadness bloomed into despair. “It would have been better if my grandparents didn’t come to parents’ day. Grandmother has already said she felt the camp misrepresented itself as having a curriculum of etiquette and decorum when it was clearly a production of fantasy and frivolity.”

Her friends blinked at her.

“You mean she doesn’t like the camp because they let us play princess while teaching us manners?” Elle said.

Amanda nodded. “I doubt I’ll be able to talk her into letting me come again.”

“Is that why they only stayed an hour on parents’ night?” Michelle asked.

“No.” She worried the end of her long strawberry blond braid. “They had another engagement. Grandmother was hosting a reception for a visiting professor. They have them all the time.”

“She couldn’t do that another night?” Michelle demanded, reaching for Amanda’s hand. She, too, knew how it felt to come second to duty.

“It doesn’t matter. I would have been nervous if they’d stayed for the talent show.”

“Afraid Grandmother wouldn’t approve?” Michelle guessed.

Amanda shrugged, feeling it would be disloyal to agree even if it was true. She longed to come back next year. Her grandparents were very protective of her and the university life was restrained and structured, with not much to offer a ten-year-old. And Grandmother didn’t like it when Amanda made a fuss about things.

But then some things were worth making a fuss over. Like precious friends. Looking from Elle to Michelle, Amanda slowly lifted her hand and hooked her pinkie with theirs.

“I promise to keep in touch. And to do everything I can to be here next year.”

CHAPTER ONE

Fifteen years later

XAVIER MARCEL LEDUC, Commandant of the Royal Pasadonian Republican Guard was ready to go home. For six months he’d been away, traveling with the crown jewels on an extended American tour that started in New York and would end here in San Francisco.

He ran his gaze over the well-dressed crowd. Tonight was a pre-event viewing, for the social elite and members of the museum, and privileged donors. Hardly a high risk crowd. All the more reason to be on guard, in his opinion. And as the senior officer in charge of the crown jewels’ security, his opinion counted.

He saw her the moment she walked into the room, a breath of fresh air in a throng of perfumed elegance. She wore a black ruffled skirt that ended a few inches above her knees topped by a black sweater with beaded trim. Young and chic, her only adornment was her creamy white skin and the vibrant fall of red gold hair that reached the top of her lovely derrière.

An attractive blond accompanied her through the exhibit, but it was the redhead who held his attention. Not only was she lovely, something about her was familiar.

When the women reached the portrait of Princess Vivienne, he went totally still, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

Signaling one of his men to take command of his post, Xavier approached the woman and her companion.

“Oh, oh, oh. Look how the tiara sparkles. That’s it. I just decided I’m having a tiara for my wedding. Do you think you could borrow this one for me?”

“Shh!” Amanda hooked her arm around Michelle’s and drew her away from the delicate diamond display. “These are royal jewels on loan from Pasadonia. I do not work for this museum, so no, I can’t borrow it for you. Now behave yourself.”

“I guess I could just snatch it.”

“Oh my God.”

“Relax. I’m just teasing. Trying to get you to relax. You’re bound tighter than your grandmother’s knickers.”

“Stop. And no more talk of borrowing or snatching any of the Crown Jewels. That’s not going to relax me. Security is all over the place. It would not look good to the museum I do work for if I was kicked out of this one.”

“Is it the security that has you twitching?”

“No. I mean it shouldn’t be. We’re not doing anything to draw their attention. But I feel like I’m being watched. It probably is the extra vigilant security.”

“Maybe not. Let’s take a gander, shall we?” Michelle led the way to one of the three foot by three foot glass displays that stood six feet high in the middle of the room. This one held a beautiful ballgown from the late 1800s topped by a stunning ruby necklace, earrings, and tiara.

Being women, the jewels got first consideration but the elaborate dress also drew Amanda’s attention. “Can you imagine wearing something that heavy to dance in?”

“I couldn’t do it.” Michelle shook her head, her blond hair shimmering with the motion. “I would have had to be a strumpet.”

“Ha.” Amanda closed her lips over a burst of laughter, the old habit hard to break even though she’d been out from under Grandmother’s iron rule for nearly six months. “I’m telling Nate you said that.”

Her friend slanted sly green eyes her way. “Nate loves my inner strumpet.”

“I bet he does.” Amanda bumped shoulders with her best buddy. “I’m so happy for you. It’s obvious you two are in love. He’s been good for you.”

“Dude, he’s the best. And he comes with the little munchkin.”

She glowed. The biggest cynic Amanda knew actually glowed talking about her fiancé and his infant ward. It made Amanda ache with delight for her friend, but also with loneliness.

Both her BFFs had found their very own Prince Charmings. And Amanda truly wished them a fairy tale happily ever after. But it made her long for a man of her own, someone she could be herself with, who would believe in her without limits, who loved her despite her faults.

Despite her faults? Wow, she had to stop channeling her grandmother. She wanted what she’d never had, a relationship of comfort, warmth and affection. She longed for a man she could trust, a man who above all else would be honest with her.

And yes, a man who embraced her inner strumpet.

“There he is,” Michelle whispered in her ear. “Your stalker.”

“Where?” Amanda looked up and into the brown eyes of a black-haired man. He stood militarily straight, on the edge of the room, arms crossed over his chest, eyes trained on her.

She smiled. And he quirked an eyebrow.

She blinked and looked away, pulling Michelle with her towards the display of royal portraits.

“Mmm, sexy,” Michelle observed. “And he definitely has his eye on you.”

“You were right, he’s security. Head of security for Pasadonia.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw him on the morning news. They were doing a piece on the opening. He’s part of the Pasadonian Royal Guard traveling with the crown jewels.”

“He sure is pretty, but intense. It looks like a smile might break those cheekbones.”

“Don’t stare.”

Amanda pulled Michelle around so they faced the painting of a woman wearing a three-point crown and a jewel encrusted crest around her neck. The plaque read Princess Vivienne, 1760–1822.

“He’s working.” For some reason Amanda felt compelled to defend him. “And some people like to kid around about stealing the tiaras.”

Michelle grinned. “Bet that would land his ass in a wringer.”

“Yes, actually, that is indeed the truth.”

The deep male voice with a slight accent sounded from behind them causing Amanda to jump guiltily.

Michelle was unfazed. Smiling easily she turned to confront the man. “You can’t put all these sparkles on display and not expect a girl to want.”

“You are welcome to admire all you wish.” He bowed his head slightly. “That is, of course, the point of the tour. However, I must insist you do nothing to place my ass in a wringer.”

Amanda smiled appreciating his humor, the gentle mocking.

“Oh, he’s funny.” Michelle took no offense. She elbowed Amanda. “Sexy and funny, you should say hello.”

“Hello.” Well used to her friend’s bluntness, Amanda just went with it. Besides, he was sexy, and funny. She held out her hand. “I’m Amanda Carn.”

“Miss Carn.” He bowed low over her hand, almost but not quite kissing her fingers. “It is my pleasure.”

Michelle shifted so he wouldn’t be able to see her, and wiggled her eyebrows. Amanda just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. But she couldn’t help but be charmed.

“Xavier Marcel LeDuc at your service.”

“You must forgive my friend, monsieur. She has a warped sense of humor but means no harm.”

The Commandant nodded to the portrait behind her. “Your resemblance to Princess Vivienne is what drew me over. Do you, perhaps, have family in Pasadonia?”

“Oh my gosh,” Michelle exclaimed. “Amanda, you totally look like the princess in the picture.”

“What?” Amanda automatically turned to view the painting.

The woman in the picture appeared to be in her forties. She wore her bright red hair up, the weight of it, and the crown making her long neck look fragile. A creamy complexion and somber blue eyes gave her an elegant air. She possessed a delicate beauty beyond anything Amanda aspired to. Yes, their coloring was similar, but that was all, and even then Amanda’s strawberry blond hair and silver gray eyes resembled the woman’s but were a toned down version of the princess.

“Oh no.” Amanda automatically made the denial. Because really, the closest she got to royalty was playing princess at Princess Camp all those years ago. But then she had to qualify, because she didn’t really know her full ancestral makeup. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“The likeness is quite remarkable.”

“Oh please,” she gave a dismissive wave, “she’s beautiful.”

“Yes.” He nodded, a shallow, regal gesture, his amber gaze never leaving her face. “Very beautiful.”

“Oh.” She blushed. Those compelling light brown eyes held her captive, seemed to delve into her soul, seeking all her secrets. And she was keen to share. Michelle’s elbow dug into her ribs, reminding her to speak. “Um. Thank you.”

“What she meant to say,” Michelle corrected, “is would you like to join her for a cup of coffee?”

“Oh I cou—” Again the denial came without thought, but she stopped. Why couldn’t she? She wouldn’t find her prince charming by being timid. “Yes, I meant what she said.”

He smiled, not with his mouth but with those incredible eyes. “This would be my wish, however, duty requires I remain here.”

“Of course.” Heat rushed to Amanda’s cheeks as his rejection registered. “You’re working.”

“May I have a rain coat? Perhaps tomorrow morning?”

“Rain check,” she gently corrected him. “I’d be delighted to meet you in the morning. There’s a decent coffee house two blocks from here.”

He inclined his head and they agreed on a time.

“Ladies, may I take your picture with Vivienne’s portrait? A memento of our meeting.”

“Of course.” Michelle gave Amanda no chance to answer. Hooking her arm through Amanda’s, she smiled as Xavier held up his phone and took the shot. After which he bowed and excused himself to return to work.

“You have a date with a foreign hottie,” Michelle chortled as soon as he stepped out of ear shot. “I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s only coffee.” Amanda down played the date, because she didn’t want to get too excited, even though her heartbeat drummed wildly and her palms were sweaty.

“It’s a date with a sexy, sophisticated man. And you don’t fool me. Inside you’re dancing on tiptoes.”

Amanda shook her head. But this was Michelle, so she finally came clean. “I totally am. Which is probably a huge mistake.” She gestured to the displays around them. “The exhibit is only here for six weeks.”

“Exactly. No time to get emotionally attached, but plenty of time to have fun. And if you’re lucky, you might get to celebrate your freedom with a foreign hottie in your new apartment.”

“That’s your inner strumpet talking.”

Michelle laughed. “You’re right.” Her gaze went to the painting of Vivienne. She looked from the picture to Amanda and back again. “Are you sure you’re not related to anyone in Pasadonia?”

“Not on my mother’s side. They’re Norwegian.”

“What about your father? You don’t know what your dad was. He could be Pasadonian.”

“Michelle, we’re not talking just anyone in Pasadonia.” Amanda pointed at the painting. “She’s the Prince’s great grandmother. We’re talking the royal family.”

“I know. Cool, huh?”

It was her turn to laugh. “Yeah right. I’m the long lost daughter to the Prince of Pasadonia.”

She had to scoff because they’d just tapped into one of her biggest childhood fantasies. She’d loved playing princess and often pretended to be rescued from her lonely existence by a prince who took her away to his beautiful castle.

Her mother had died from complications in childbirth, so Amanda was raised by her grandparents, who were in their late forties when she was born. They always maintained they didn’t know who her father was, that her mother never revealed his identity.

“Hey, your mom may have met him when he was on a trip to America. Or she could have had a European trip after college.”

“If she did, I’ve never heard of it.” Amanda sighed. “They rarely talk about her. Grandmother gets so withdrawn when I ask questions. I stopped asking long ago.”

Michelle muttered an unflattering word about grandmother and then wrapped Amanda in a hug. “Sorry, but I’ve never liked her since she refused to let you come back to Princess Camp. Plus, I know what it’s like to be in a stifling home situation. You do know Elle and I love you.”

“Yes, I do know.” Amanda squeezed her friend before stepping back. She’d been taught from birth to avoid public displays of affection. “I love you guys, too. But enough of this silliness. I have a date with a foreign hottie.”

“Yes, you do.” Michelle went with the change of subject. “What are you going to wear?”

“Oh no, you’re not going to do that to me. I’m not going to go mental over what I wear tomorrow. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“I don’t know how you can be so calm about such a big decision. Impressions matter.”

“I’ll be fine. I don’t own anything that won’t make a good impression.”

“Yeah. Now that you’re out on your own, we have to do something about that.”

“Sir?” Officer Bonnet appeared at Xavier’s side in answer to his summons.

“See the redhead leaving with the blond?” he indicated Amanda and her companion. “I want you to follow her. Discreetly. I want to know where she goes, what she does, and where she lives.”

“Yes, sir.” Bonnet turned to leave.

“Bonnet.” Xavier stopped the man. “Don’t let her see you.”

“Sir.” Bonnet nodded and moved after the women.

Xavier watched Amanda, she moved gracefully, her posture straight, elegant. It wasn’t hard to see her as a royal. She suddenly looked back and saw him. She gave a little wave.

Xavier inclined his head in acknowledgement. A moment later she was gone, Bonnet on her heels.

Xavier reached for his phone, dialed a long distance number. When a voice answered, he said, “It’s LeDuc. I need to speak to the Prince.”

CHAPTER TWO

AMANDA SAT OUTSIDE in the cool morning air. Spring bloomed around her, vibrant colors spilling from trellis boxes and potted planters up and down the street. She enjoyed this spot high on the hill with its view of the ocean. She enjoyed sitting in the fresh air.

And still she fiddled with the ruffled cuff of her sweater dress. Darn Michelle for making her self-conscious of her wardrobe choice. The soft gray mini dress with three rows of ruffles at the hem, paired with black high heeled boots and a flowing purple muffler was the perfect look for an idle Sunday morning.

So maybe it wasn’t her clothes choice making her nervous at all. Maybe it was the fact her hot date was late.

Not that Michelle was off the hook. Amanda went through five outfits before deciding on the gray dress. Nothing had felt right. And that wasn’t like her, neither the indecisiveness nor the fussiness. She had a long, lean frame that clothes loved, and a sense of style drilled into her by a grandmother obsessed with decorum and good taste.

“Amanda.” The deep voice made her name a caress. She looked up and there stood Xavier silhouetted against the morning sun, his shoulders broad beams in an expensive suit.

“Xavier,” she breathed. Oh get a grip, girl. No man respects a pushover.

“Good morning.” He reached for her hand, bent over it before taking his seat.

It was Old World gestures like that that got to her. He got to her—his somberness offset by an edgy dangerousness. She had no doubt he was very good at his job.

But she prided herself on being mature, so it was time to act like it.

“Please forgive my tardiness. A last-minute call from home.”

“I understand. It must be hard to be away for months at a time.”

“Yes.” He waved over a waitress, ordered coffee and a Danish. “However, I am a soldier. And it is a prestigious assignment. I am honored to serve my country.”

“A soldier?” she asked. “I thought you were a security officer.”

“I am an officer of the Garde royale à la Couronne. As were my father and his father before him and so on, for six generations.”

“A personal guard to the crown—impressive. The exhibit is lovely.” She gestured to the newspaper she’d brought with her. “The preview is a great success. You must be proud to be trusted with your country’s treasures. Your Prince must have great faith in you.”

He was silent for a moment and she worried she might have insulted him. But then he leaned forward as he reached for her hand and played with her fingers.

“That is exactly so. Though many people have felt that it was a lowly assignment.”

“I can’t see you ever being given a lowly assignment.”

He smiled, this time with both his eyes and mouth. She felt he’d given her a special gift.

“A soldier does both the big and the small, because it is all necessary to complete the mission. Of all the generations in my family, I made Commandant at the youngest age.”

“And that’s an accomplishment?” she asked, though she could see it was.

“Yes. My father is proud of me, my grandfather a little upset.”

She laughed and pointed at him. “And you are happy with both reactions.”

He shrugged, but a small smile curved the corner of his mouth. “For six generations a son in my father’s line has joined the Republican Guard. My family is proud of the exemplary service they have provided to the crown. It is important I demonstrate great skills to honor the Prince’s faith in me, and my family before me.”

“Wow. But no pressure, right?” He spoke with pride, but there was something, an underlying tension she picked up on that made her wonder if there was more to his story. It prompted her to ask, “What would you do if you weren’t a soldier?”

His expression went blank. She actually felt the question stunned him. He shrugged. “An engineer, perhaps, because I have always liked knowing how things work. However, there was never any question of this. It is my duty and my privilege to serve the Prince.” He inclined his head again. “But I am a boring topic. We shall speak of you now. What is it you do, Amanda Carn?”

“I’m the assistant curator for the Children’s Museum of Art and Science.” She lifted her orange juice. “I just celebrated my first year anniversary.”

“Congratulations.” He touched his mug to her glass.

“A royal guard!” She exclaimed as a thought came to her. “That’s perfect. We’re doing career presentations at the museum all this month. Would you be willing to come and talk to the kids?”

He considered her for a moment. “When do you have these talks?”

“Tuesdays at four in the afternoon. Please say you’ll think about it.”

“I will look at my schedule.” He promised. “So you like children. Do you have any of your own?”

“No. But I’m an honorary aunt.” It thrilled her to say so. “Michelle, you met her last night, is marrying a man who has a child.”

“She is brave to take on a ready-made family.”

“Funny, I think she’s lucky.” And he’d hit on another of her fantasies, a big happy family. “I can tell you she’s very much in love.”

“Then she is, indeed, lucky.” He said it simply, sincerely. She liked that he didn’t jeer.

“Do you have children?” Turnabout was fair play.

“No. I have never been married.”

An interesting response. Was he just sharing information, or were children and marriage linked in his mind? “Do you feel one is a pre-requisite for the other?”

“In my family it always has been. Plus, Pasadonia is a small country. We are not as progressive as the United States.”

“Not everyone here is open-minded. I was raised by my grandparents. They’re not very progressive at all.”

“I understand. My mother would be disappointed in me if I did not treat a woman with respect in all things.”

“She sounds like a strong woman.” Amanda worked hard to keep the wistfulness from her voice. Her biggest regret in life was never knowing her mother. Her parents.

“She is tough. But she has a huge heart. She is the soul of our family.” He set his empty mug on the table. “Why were you raised by your grandparents?”

“They’re all the family I have. My mother died when I was just a baby.”

He watched her intently, his honey brown eyes focused completely on her. “I am sorry. You must miss her every day.”

She nodded, a lump forming in her throat at his simple understanding. Even though she’d never known her mother, Amanda did miss her every day.

“And what of your father? You have not mentioned him.”

She sighed. She hadn’t known him either, and yes she felt the hole he left in her life, but he was such a mystery that’s all she usually focused on. Except for those bitter, lonely minutes when she speculated he must be dead, too. Otherwise why wasn’t she with him? Why didn’t he come for her?

Xavier leaned forward, his interest apparent. And heady. Especially after the university boys she was used to.

Pleased by his undivided attention, she revealed more than she normally might.

“I don’t know my father,” she declared. “My mother never told my grandparents who he was.”

“How difficult for you. I cannot imagine not knowing one of my parents. Have you made any effort to find him?”

Xavier felt like a thief stealing an innocent woman’s secrets. He was a soldier, dammit, not a spy. He did not care for the subterfuge required for this assignment. He already knew the answer to all the questions he’d asked. He’d had a complete dossier of her in his hands before the exhibit ended last night.

After he sent the picture of Amanda to his Prince, His Highness admitted he’d met and wooed an American or two in his early twenties. The Prince also had a copy of the dossier and had viewed a picture of Haley Carn, Amanda’s mother. He admitted she looked familiar but could not state with certainty that he knew her twenty-six years ago.

He requested Xavier obtain and forward a DNA sample to Pasadonia. In the meantime he was to maintain surveillance and gather more information.

It was the thing of nightmares.

She shook her head in answer to his question. “I’ve thought of looking for him, but it always upset my grandmother so much when I asked that I stopped probing.”

“So your choice is to give up your search or cause your grandmother distress.”

Perhaps if she were a different person he’d find it easier. But he liked her. He found her refreshing, honest, giving, surprisingly bold. And loyal. She’d given up a personal quest to soothe the sensibilities of her grandmother.

“There was no reason to upset her over something I may never know the truth of. But now I’m out on my own, I may try to find out something more.”

“Do you have a clue where to look?”

He disliked deceiving her. His gaze landed on her full lips. Especially when he’d prefer to spend time with her for an entirely different reason.

Duty demanded his cooperation, so he would do as his Prince, his friend, requested. It was Xavier’s hope that he would quickly be able to prove that her resemblance to the royal family was simply a coincidence.

And then they could move on. She’d be none the wiser, and he’d spend the remainder of his time in this country pleasantly occupied in getting to know her better.

“I think I might. When I was getting ready to move, I took some stuff up to the attic to store. I started to poke around a little, and I found a box with some of my mother’s old diaries and journals.”

“Sounds promising. Do you think she put your father’s name in one of the journals?” That might answer the question for them all. But of course, the Prince would need the DNA proof as well.

“I doubt it. My grandmother would have looked. Unless she’s lied to me all these years, which isn’t totally impossible. She’s very protective of my mother’s memory.”

“But not of you?” He found it odd that the dead should take precedence over the living. Yes, we honored and missed those who went ahead of us, but not at the expense of those still with us. Or so he’d been taught.

Amanda dipped her head and played with a spot of water on the table. “My mother was her only child. I’m the one who stole her from my grandparents.” She lifted her gaze to his and he saw a world of loneliness in the depths of her sky blue eyes. “It’s not that they don’t love me on an intellectual level, it’s that they can’t allow themselves to feel so strongly again. They aren’t emotional people.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Some people are this way. My family is very emotional.”

“That must be nice.” Her eyes lit up. He was happy to chase the shadows away. “Do you have a large family?”

“Yes. There is mama and papa and my younger sister, and her entire brood of children. Plus lots of aunts, uncles, cousins.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“Yes. And sometimes quite loud.”

“Wonderful,” she repeated. “So Uncle Xavier. Tell me about your nieces and nephews.”

“What is there to tell? There is one of each. Jon is the youngest at one. And Bridgett is four.”

“Ah ah.” She shook her finger at him. “You pretend disinterest but it’s obvious you dote on them. Especially the youngest, Jon.”

“Yes.” How did she know he had a special affection for Jon, who had his grandfather’s naughty grin? “I have missed them.”

“But no wife or children for you.” She sent him an arch glance. “Are you a player, Xavier?”

“I have no time for games in my life. And too much respect for my mother.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew Yvette LeDuc would be disappointed in his behavior, even though he acted in the line of duty.

Enough. Except for one last task, he had done all he could for now, all he was willing to do. He deliberately glanced at his watch.

“I must go.” He stood and she rose with him. As he hoped she would. He tossed money down to cover their meal and took her hand to lead her to the walkway out front.

She’d worn her lustrous mane of red gold hair free around her shoulders.

“I enjoyed this.” She smiled up at him, all innocent charm.

“As did I.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, lifting his hand to her hair, feeling like a beast as he did so. The silkiness wrapped around his wrist, catching in his watch. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

She hesitated long enough for him to remember she’d issued this invitation for coffee at her friend’s prompting. Finally she nodded.

“Yes. Ouch!” She reached for her hair when he began to lower his hand.

“My apologies.” He stopped and carefully extracted his hand, taking care not to pull her hair once he’d caught a few strands in his watch. “Such lovely hair. And now I have a memento of our morning together.”

“Amanda, please carry the tray of dressed olives,” Ingrid Carn directed from the other side of the counter. Statuesque in a tailored navy pantsuit, her silver hair short and stylish, she was a striking woman. “I’m so pleased you could make it this evening. We haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I came for Sunday dinner last weekend,” Amanda reminded her grandmother.

Doing as directed, she picked up the tray and followed the older woman from the stainless steel and granite kitchen to the parlor where light walls and fabrics offset dark wood and heavy furniture. There was nothing dainty about Ingrid Carn.

“I do hope we’ll see you more than the occasional weekend,” Grandmother said tightly. “Your grandfather misses you. Posture, dear.”

Automatically Amanda straightened her shoulders as she sat. Always it was her grandfather’s emotions at risk, never her grandmother’s—an obvious detachment ploy, and to this day it hurt every time she did it.

Especially tonight, since Amanda had given up her date with Xavier to attend her grandmother’s little fête. Not that having a little extra time to consider her decision to see him again was a bad thing. She enjoyed her time with him, perhaps too much. His confidence, the way he listened, his dangerous air of alertness contradicted by his love of family made him fascinating—just as his accent and Old World courtesies made him charming.

A lethal combination for an unsophisticated girl.

What could he possibly see in her?

This is where Michelle would remind Amanda he was only in town long enough to have a good time. That left her with a good news, bad news scenario. The good news was he’d only be here for six weeks so she didn’t have to worry about trust and commitment issues. But what if she really fell for him? The bad news was he’d only be here for a few weeks.

So when Grandmother called this afternoon and demanded Amanda drop everything and join them for a small reception Ingrid was hosting for the Dean of Historical Studies, Amanda accepted in the hope that a little extra time would bring resolution to her internal struggle.

“I’m still getting settled into my new place.” Amanda made the same excuse she’d been using for six months. “Plus it’s a long trip for the middle of the week.”

Which explained why Amanda chose the apartment she did. She loved her grandparents but she craved freedom. Living too close to them would negate the independence she achieved by moving out of their home.

“Yes, I know how distressed you were to move so far away.” Ingrid settled on the couch beside Amanda. “That’s why I’ve invited the Dean here tonight. They’re looking for an assistant to catalog and digitize the History Library.”

Amanda’s heart sank into her stomach. This was an elaborate job interview instigated by her grandmother to get Amanda back in her domain.

No. Please no.

Amanda had spent her whole life under her grandmother’s thumb, subject to her strict standards, always conscious of the stringent scrutiny of being related to not one but two senior professors of the university. Always aware her behavior reflected on them as well as herself. It was a burden she felt acutely.

She’d just gained her freedom, and was revelling in the autonomy of big city life. She loved her little apartment and she wasn’t giving it up now she’d had a taste of liberty.

“Grandmother,” she said gently, because she may be resolute, but she didn’t want to hurt the other woman. “I’m very happy at the children’s museum.”

“I know dear, but this is a wonderful opportunity. You’d be able to move back here.”

“But I like my apartment. I like my job. We’ve talked about this. I’m twenty-five years old. It’s time for me to leave the nest.”

“This is a very prestigious position. I thought of you as soon as I heard about it.”

“Because it’s close to home. not because I’m suited to the position.”

She huffed. “You love to read.”

“Yes, and I enjoy a good library, but I don’t want to work in one.”

“Now, you’re just being difficult.”

“I’m not. I love you, and these were hard choices to make, but they were the right choices for me.”

“You’re too young,” Grandmother snapped. “I’ve said it all along, just as I said your mother was too young for that trip. I was right then, and I’m right now.”

“My mother?” The reference threw Amanda. Grandmother rarely spoke of Haley. Though she’d been on Amanda’s mind a lot after talking with Xavier yesterday and being reminded of the box she’d found with the old diaries.

Xavier had assumed Amanda had them, but she didn’t. Excited by the discovery, she’d asked Grandmother if she could take the box with her. Grandmother had said no, and had refused to discuss the matter further.

“What trip?” Amanda asked her grandmother.

“That year before she had you, some college friends of hers were going on a post-graduation trip to Europe. She had a bee in her bonnet about going with them. I was against it from the beginning. She was too young, too naïve. They all were.”

“Life brings experience.” It was one of her grandfather’s favorite sayings.

Grandmother closed her eyes. “That’s what she said. How could we argue with our own beliefs?”

“You let her go.”

“Yes. And she came back pregnant with you.”

Amanda flinched at the venom in the words. She knew her grandmother’s feelings about her mother’s pregnancy. She knew she was blamed for her mother’s death.

She lived knowing her grandparents would choose her mother over her every time. She understood. And at the same time she didn’t. Haley was their child. But Amanda was here. Why couldn’t they just love her? Isn’t that what Haley would have wanted?

Accepting the futility of fighting what couldn’t be changed, she pushed the ache aside and focused on what grandmother revealed about Haley. Maybe Amanda would learn something about her father after all.

“So she met my father in Europe?” How funny to hear this now, when Xavier had just been asking if she had any relations in Pasadonia.

“Yes.” Grandmother stood to straighten the glasses on the bar, to arrange the wine, open and breathing, precisely next to the bottle of Bourbon. “We never met the man who stole our baby from us.”

“Did she tell you anything about him?” Amanda asked softly, afraid to disturb the moment.

“They flew into England, made it their base. She called often to tell us all about their little jaunts. She did not mention meeting a man. I would have remembered.”

“Yes. So my father is English.”

“Possibly. She was gone for two months. They started out in England but bounced around from there. They also went to Ireland, Paris, Milan, Pasadonia.”

“My mother was in Pasadonia twenty-five years ago?” How was that for coincidence?

“Yes. They spent at least a week there.” Grandmother moved back to the sofa, rearranged the trays on the coffee table. “I don’t care to speak of that time.”

“Of course, I understand,” Amanda said, like she always did. But suddenly it wasn’t true. At what point did her feelings matter? Obviously never, if she didn’t push the issue. “I know it upsets you to talk about Haley. But I long to know her better. I didn’t even know she’d been on this trip, or that my father was European.”

“You don’t need to know anything about him except that he stole our child from us.”

“That’s not good enough anymore. I have questions. Who was he? Why didn’t she tell you anything about him? Did he know about me?”

“Do not take that tone with me, young lady.” Grandmother chastised her in icy tones. “I’ve said I don’t care to talk about it.”

“Then let me read her journals,” she said reasonably. “I can get my answers from them.”

“I said no.”

“Why not?” Amanda worked hard to keep the pleading from her voice. Grandmother would latch onto any sign of weakness.

“They’re private.” She stated stiffly.

“She’s dead, Grandmother.” Amanda made it a gentle reminder. “I think she’d want me to have them.”

“It’s out of the question.”

The no give attitude finally spiked Amanda’s temper.

“Now who’s being stubborn?” she demanded. “You won’t tell me about her, but I can’t read the journals. She’s my mother! Would you have wanted her to have no knowledge of you? Can’t you understand that my knowing her doesn’t take anything away from you?”

When there was no answer, Amanda shook her head sadly. “Enjoy your dinner. I’m afraid I can’t stay.” She walked to the closet for her coat and purse.

“Don’t you dare leave,” Grandmother snapped. “My guests are expecting to meet you.”

“Regarding a job I don’t want.” Amanda’s stomach roiled and her voice shook, but she stood up to her grandmother. Stood up for herself. “Just tell them I didn’t care to talk about it. That always works for you.”

CHAPTER THREE

“THIS IS AMAZING.” Amanda stopped next to Xavier. They stood in front of the glass display of the royal crown of Pasadonia. She whispered, otherwise her voice echoed through the cavernous room.

After dinner, he’d brought her here to the museum for a personal after hours tour of the crown jewels. They were alone except for the night security—two guards who stood at opposite ends of the vast room.

She’d like to think her decision to keep their date came from carefully considered deliberation, but the truth was he drew her more than anyone she’d ever met. And it gave her great pleasure knowing Grandmother would heartily disapprove.

It may be petty, but Amanda didn’t care.

And she was having a really good time.

“The jewels are stunning.” Hands behind her back, she leaned forward to study the three crowns on display. “The workmanship is exquisite.”

“Only the highest quality gems are used in the making of the royal crowns. Pasadonia uses the same jeweller and silversmith as the Royal house of Britain. There are over two thousand precious gems in the coronation crown, known as the St. Martin.”

“St. Martin of Tours, patron saint of soldiers.” She strolled on to a display of scepters. At his questioning look she confessed, “I did a Google search.”

“Yes. We are a small country but we have held our own through the centuries.”

“Le Valliant allié.” She read on the shaft of a gleaming gold scepter. “The valiant ally.”

“Our motto, and a way of life. We believe in making friends not enemies.”

“A nice sentiment,” she nodded and moved on to a cabinet of daggers, the decorative knives were as beautiful as they were lethal. “But in my experience politics aren’t that easy. It’s not always possible to be everyone’s friend.”

“Perhaps not, but when you control a neutral port in the Gulf of Lions, it is possible to avoid making enemies.”

“I would think that would make you all the more vulnerable to invasion.”

He inclined his dark head. “As I said, we are small but we held our own. Pasadonia has always had a strong militia. We are fierce fighters.”

“To this day?” she asked curiously. Looking at his profile she saw the pride in him, and when he turned his golden gaze her way, she saw the fierceness he spoke of.

So why had she sensed an underlying tension when he’d talked of his family’s history in the royal guard?

“Yes,” he said simply. “Pasadonia has all the problems of any nation in these days of unrest. Terrorism is a universal issue. Our Prince is a vocal member of the International Security Consortium. Our militia must be ever vigilant.”

“Of course.” How small-minded of her not to associate big world problems with a small principality.

“We protect our Prince. We protect our borders. We protect and aid our citizens.” He gestured to the elaborate exhibit. “We protect our national resources. We stand in the middle of Pasadonia right now. These are my country’s treasures. They are my responsibility. I will protect them with my life as I would if we were in my homeland.”

“I can see you’re very dedicated.” She placed her hand on his, where it rested on the corner of a display case. “Your country has beautiful treasures. Considering the uncertain times, I’m actually surprised your Prince would send the jewels on tour.”

“Tourism is a large part of our economy. With people traveling less these days, our economy was suffering. The tour has generated a large influx of necessary income.”

“Your Prince is smart to use the riches of your history to finance your current and future needs. From what I’ve read the tour has been incredibly successful.”

“It has. My Prince is very pleased with the generosity of your country and its citizens.”

She laughed. “Americans are fascinated by all things royal. Probably because it’s not something we’ve ever known.”

The next turn took them by the tiaras. Diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and rubies looped and swooped in delicate designs, layering gem upon gem so it glittered like fallen stars.

“Oh.” Again she clasped her hands behind her back, an old habit to keep from reaching for something she shouldn’t touch.

He tugged on her fingers. “I am sorry I cannot let you handle the jewels.”

She grinned at him. “I’d love that, but I understand. I used to dream of being a princess when I was little. All little girls do.” She glanced at the brilliant display, sighed. “I never imagined anything this elaborate. This beautiful.”

“Ah, so you are all grown up now? There are no more dreams of tiaras, ballgowns, or finding prince charming?” His expression remained somber, but the words teased.

“Not for a long time. Not for me anyway.” She looked at him, and then away, while heat flowed into her cheeks as she confessed, “My favorite play time princess was Rapunzel until one day I realized I related to her because I also felt trapped.”

“Amanda.” He immediately took her elbow, turned her to face him. “Has someone hurt you?”

His intensity made it clear he was ready to do something about it if someone had.

She shook her head, gently touched his cheek in gratitude for his concern. “No. But my upbringing was very strict. My grandparents are very traditional.”

“And they lost their child.”

“Yes.” She nodded grateful for his understanding. “So they were doubly cautious with me. And we practically lived on the campus of the university. They always made it clear my actions reflected on their reputations. Rapunzel grew up in a hidden tower. I grew up in an ivory tower.”

Hearing the bitterness in her voice, she lifted a shoulder and let it drop in a nonchalant gesture. “It’s fanciful I know. Sorry. I don’t mean to drop this on you. I’m probably not even making sense.”

“Ivory tower, I know what this term means.” He tucked the fall of her hair behind her shoulder, ran his hand down the back of her arm until he reached her hand and laced their fingers together. “You felt restricted by the inhibiting milieu of your grandparents’ world.”

“That’s it exactly.” He was so insightful, so easy to talk to. Though why she was sharing this with him, she couldn’t say. They were feelings she barely acknowledged to herself, but apparently her recent argument with grandmother had allowed stifled emotions to rise to the surface. Perhaps she felt safe with Xavier because their relationship was so finite.

“The six months since I moved into my own apartment have been wonderful.”

“How have your grandparents taken your departure?”

She bit her lip. “I thought they had accepted it, but the dinner I went to the other night was a bid to get me back into their sphere. The History Department is looking for an assistant to catalog and digitize the history library.”

“A prestigious position, I’m sure.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up. “That’s what Grandmother said.” Which reminded Amanda of what else Grandmother had revealed. Amanda gestured to the tiara. “This is the crown Princess Vivienne is wearing in the portrait, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He led her to the painting of Vivienne. “It was made for her for the Coronation of her husband Prince Louis II in 1852.”

Amanda thought about telling him about her mother’s trip to Europe, to Pasadonia, but hesitated. What if he thought she was trying to claim some type of kinship with the Prince?

She didn’t want their budding relationship—wait, relationship was too strong a word—their budding friendship to be cut short because she made too much of a simple coincidence.

No, she chided herself, she was being silly. Her resemblance to Princess Vivienne wasn’t that strong.

“So guess what?” She wandered a few steps away, pretended an interest in a display she didn’t really see. “I found out my mother took a trip to Europe the summer before I was born. She went with some friends after college. Traveled to several different countries, including Pasadonia.”

He west still, then very deliberately advanced on her. “How interesting.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “Perhaps there is a relationship to the Princess. Should I address you as Your Highness?”

She graced him with a teasing smile. “Do I get to wear the tiara?”

“Hmm.” He arched a brow as if contemplating her question. “Ah, no.”

“Spoilsport.”

“All part of the job.” He shrugged. “Unless you want to take a DNA test and—”

“Okay, okay.” She glanced at her watch. Time had flown—it was already an hour later than she’d meant to stay out tonight. Time to go.

“Thanks for the private tour. I’ve really enjoyed learning more about your country.” And him. “But it’s getting late and I have to be up early.”

“Of course.” He bowed his acceptance. “I will walk you to your car.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. My car is just across the street,” She protested. “You finish up what you have to do here.”

“It is necessary. I would do this for any woman. But for you it is also my pleasure.”

Charmed, she accepted his offer, happy to have a few more minutes of his company.

Outside, the fog hung heavy in the air, reducing visibility and dampening sound. It gave Amanda the sense that she and Xavier were alone in a mystic world. She laughed silently. She may not romanticize princesses any more, but fantasy still lingered.

She shivered and was rewarded with the warm weight of Xavier’s hand in the small of her back. A moment ago she’d bragged that her car was nearby. Now they seemed to reach her little red Civic way too soon.

He took her keys, unlocked and opened the door, and bent to check the interior. He was most thorough in seeing to her safety. The effort gave her a warm feeling. It was probably habit for him, but the extra care made her feel cherished.

“Thank you.” She lifted her eyes to his. Would he kiss her? She wanted him to kiss her.

He held up her keys and she opened her hand. He placed the keys in her palm, curled her fingers around them. All without taking his eyes from hers.

He had her ensnared, captivated. Wanting more.

Should she kiss him? Why not? She was a modern woman, confident, sexy. Even with the pep talk she wasn’t that brave. He just wasn’t the kind of man you made moves on.

Though the latent heat in his eyes told her the advances wouldn’t be unwelcome, he made no move of his own. Maybe mention of her mother’s trip to Pasadonia had changed the dynamics between them.

“Well, good night.”

Friendship, she reminded herself, and tore her gaze away from his. She moved to stand in the open door. Then stopped because he refused to release her hand. Surprised, she looked back. At full smolder, he slowly reeled her toward him.

Now the moment was here, her heart fluttered wildly, her blood dancing as his head lowered to hers. She sighed and melted against him. Yes.

His lips settled softly on hers. At the touch of his tongue she opened to him, sighing as she drank in the taste of him.

All thoughts of friendship flittered away into the night. This was no friendly peck. This kiss sizzled her senses, titillated everything female in her.

It took only a moment for her to realize she’d only ever known boys before this. Xavier was all man. He knew what he wanted and took it.

And she gave, leaping into the embrace with wonder and enthusiasm. Arms locked around his neck, she reveled in his strength, in the feel of his hands on her. Her toes actually curled as she sought purchase for her shaky legs.

A car passed them on the opposite side of the street. The intrusion of reality into their world caused Xavier to lift his head. Gently he feathered kisses across her cheek and whispered sexy words in her ear.

“Tu me fais oublier moi-même. You make me forget myself.”

“Me too.” Necking on the street? Her grandmother would freak. But Amanda couldn’t bring herself to care. All she could think of was more.

“I must say goodnight.” With obvious reluctance, he saw her safely seated. And then he stepped back and raised his hand in farewell.

She pressed her hand to the window and made herself drive away. She blew out a breath that lifted the bangs off her forehead. Oh boy. She was so lost. Absolutely gone. He made her feel alive, feminine, desirable.

She knew she was setting herself up for heartbreak. He’d be leaving in a few weeks and her life was here. There was no future to this relationship.

But better heartache than regret. She was tired of being afraid to trust. Tired of letting fear rule her. She felt safe with Xavier. And she longed to explore the chemistry that sizzled between them. She didn’t want to look back and wish she’d had the courage to grab life and live it to the fullest for the time they had together.

She was going into it with her eyes open. But oh yeah, she was going for it.

Xavier strolled back to the museum, his gaze locked on the vehicle carrying Amanda Carn into the night. When the car turned from his sight, he fixed his gaze forward and tried to calculate exactly how big a mistake he’d just made.

For the first time, man and soldier were at odds as desire warred with duty. He liked this woman, he wanted her physically, but if she was of the royal family, his duty was to protect her against all threats, including himself. With the addictive taste of her still on his lips, he recognized the challenge that represented.

Inside he did a final walk through of the entire museum, as was his habit, ending with the exhibit rooms.

He knew his duty, lived and breathed it day in and day out. Duty was what kept the soldier from kissing her when she so obviously wanted a kiss as much as he wanted to get his mouth on her. The shadow of hurt as she moved away drew the man in him forward as he sought to erase her pain.

And his.

Now may be the only time he had with her, this time of uncertainty while the DNA test was pending. Once her identity was confirmed, she’d be forever out of his reach. And after seeing her next to Vivienne’s portrait again tonight and hearing her mother had been in Pasadonia, he had little doubt a royal connection would be made.

Satisfied the facility was secure he gave his men final instructions and signed out at the security desk.

“Did your date enjoy the private show?” the duty officer asked congenially.

“Yes,” Xavier answered evenly. “She works for one of the local museums so she appreciated the value of the collection.”

“Huh,” the guard made a disappointed noise. “She looks a lot like one of the portraits. I thought she might be visiting royalty.”

“No,” Xavier denied firmly. “She’s just a beautiful woman and a friend.”

That was his answer. Until notified otherwise, Amanda was just an attractive woman he wanted to get to know better. The soldier’s orders were to keep her close, to obtain information.

The man intended to do just that.

CHAPTER FOUR

AMANDA LET HERSELF into her apartment still floating high on that goodnight kiss. She’d replayed the date over and over in her head, reliving the best night of her life.

Dinner at The Top of the Mark proved a feast for the soul. Thirty-four floors in the sky, the revolving restaurant provided a panoramic view of the city. She felt like she was eating among the stars, making the four-course meal a gourmet dream.

And that wasn’t even the best part. Xavier elevated the experience to a whole new level. Attentive and charming, the conversation flowed so smoothly time flew.

She kicked off her shoes and set them neatly in the closet as she remembered the trip to the museum where he gave her a personal tour of the exhibit he protected so zealously.

The jewels and costumes took on extra meaning as he spoke of the events, both violent and celebratory, where they’d been worn or used. Coronations, balls, and battles—the entire collection represented a way of life far beyond her imagining. It seemed the thing of fairy tales, but grittier, with all the trials and tribulations of real life, of real people.

And his kiss. Oh my.

He made her feel as if she’d never been kissed before. And she hadn’t, not by a man of his experience. And yet it wasn’t practiced. It was totally personal, totally focused, totally intense.

He’d made her toes curl, her skin tingle and her body shiver in the best possible way. With longing and need.

Stripping in the bathroom, she placed her dress in the dry cleaning, her lingerie in the hamper.

She’d never needed before. Not that her experience was vast. Sure she’d kissed a few guys, but she’d only had one lover, and it had been pleasant enough, but it turned out he was more interested in a good grade from her grandmother than in Amanda.

Big mistake on both their parts.

In the shower she admitted this thing with Xavier may be a mistake as well. She’d let anger at her grandmother propel her into a date she was leery of. And already it would hurt more to walk away from him than it had to leave the jerk who was only after academic acclaim. She missed being with Xavier, wanted to call and see if he made it back to the hotel okay, if they were taking good care of him, if he liked her as much as she liked him.

Her lack of experience rose up in a tide of insecurity as she wondered if he found her immature. She hoped not. Couldn’t believe he did. Those kisses were in no way juvenile.

Enough already. Any more rehashing and she’d revert to grade school mentality and sock him in the arm the next time she saw him. She needed something to occupy her mind or she’d never get to sleep tonight.

A knock sounded at the door. She frowned, unaccustomed to getting company so late. A glance through the peephole showed her manager. She opened the door.

“Amanda. You had a delivery today. I heard you come in so I thought I’d bring it up.”

“Thanks, Mr. Vey.” She took the box and bid the man good night.

Recognizing the box that contained her mother’s diaries, Amanda carried it to her bed and opened it. Inside she found a note from Grandmother.

Amanda,

Your grandfather believes your disappointing behavior the other night was the result of distress. You can thank him for this.

Grandmother.

Even as she read the note, Amanda didn’t know if she could believe it or not. Was this another example of Grandmother ascribing her own feelings to Grandfather, or had he really put his foot down?

Eager to get to the journals, she decided to brood on the issue at another time. Instead she started pulling out books. She pulled one out and flipped to the first page. And found the first reference to her father.

I never believed in love at first sight until I met him, my prince. I know, it’s childish. But that’s how he makes me feel, as if I’ve found my Prince Charming. Maybe it’s because I’m in Europe where castles abound and royalty is a reality.

I know I can’t trust the feeling. I hear mother’s voice in my head cataloging all the reasons why I should keep my distance, but I can’t. I won’t.

I can’t stop thinking about him. He makes me happy. And we haven’t even been alone; always we’ve been in a crowd of friends though we’ve spent hours talking. And today he stole a kiss.

Stole? Why do I say that when I wanted it so badly? And he actually made my toes curl. I’ll never look on that term as a cliché again.

Amanda laughed, relating with her mother as she read on.

The next time he asks me out I’m going to agree. It may be foolish to pursue a relationship when I’m here for such a short time. Mother would say so. But feelings this strong deserve a chance. If I know it’s not for forever then I should be safe, right?

I haven’t journaled for years but I needed to put my thoughts in order, and this helped. Maybe it will help, too, to read about my romantic adventure when summer is over and I’m back home in the position mother has chosen for me. Or since I’m being brave here, it’ll give me courage to be brave there and seek a position of my own choosing.

Amanda read the next two entries but her mother’s “prince” had had to pop away on business and it was mostly angst about her original decision not to go out with him, and how she wouldn’t make that mistake again if she did, please God, get to see him again, and he still wanted to see her alone.

A lesson learned to grab opportunity when it hammered on your door.

Closing the book, Amanda checked her alarm and then switched out the light. Thank goodness for Michelle, and the push she gave Amanda at the preview event. Otherwise she’d be like her mother, wishing and regretting what might have been instead of remembering a fabulous kiss.

With a sigh she closed her eyes and let her mind take her back to Xavier’s embrace.

Xavier wore his dress uniform for his talk at the museum. His role as senior security officer for the exhibition called for discretion so he and his men wore black suits with white shirts and a black tie adorned by a tie pin of the Royal Republican Guard crest.

But for this event the he figured if he was speaking on being a royal guard he should look like one. The pants were navy with a gold-banded red stripe down the outside of the leg; the jacket was stark white with black epaulettes and red braiding looped over the right shoulder. Medals and ribbons earned through the course of duty decorated his chest to the left.

At home he’d wear his dress sword sheathed at his side. As this was a peace mission, he’d left it locked up in his quarters at home. In its place he’d borrowed one of the simpler weapons from the collection and carried it in a long leather case.

The Children’s Museum of Art and Science sat on the edge of Golden Gate Park. A two story red brick and towering glass building, it married the romance of art and the clarity of science.

Inside, a woman seated at the information desk directed him up a flight of stairs and to the left.

“Oh the kids are going to love you.” She chortled. “I might sneak up and have a peak myself.”

He thanked her and bowed, earning another trill of delight. The corner of his mouth curled up as he took the stairs. American women were so easy to charm.

He found Amanda surrounded by children ranging in ages from about six to ten. She sat in their midst holding a copy of the Little Engine That Could, explaining the mechanics of a steam engine.

The kids were totally into the lesson. And it quickly became clear they were trying to trip her up. But she stayed on point and answered all their questions, patient and in control.

“Why do they call it a choo-choo train?” One youngster asked.

Amanda reached down and picked up a large picture of a steam engine. “Well, see in this diagram how the steam vents out into the air?”

“Yeah,” the kids called.

“When this valve opens, the steam escapes in a rush of pressure making a choo-ing sound. As the train starts, this piston,” she pointed to the diagram, making sure all the kids could see, “is moving very slowly, but once the train starts rolling the piston gains speed and the exhaust is released faster and faster and each time it goes choo, choo, choo.” “Thoo-thoo train,” declared a little boy missing his front teeth.

“That’s right.” Amanda looked up and spied Xavier.

Her face lit up, showing her delight in seeing him. His gut tightened as an answering pleasure swelled in him.

But he had no time to worry over the warmth of his reaction to her interaction with the kids. She was a natural with them, a clear indication she’d make a good mother someday.

Noticing her attention had strayed, the children followed her gaze to him.

“It’s Prince Charming.” A little girl gasped.

Mon dieu. The Lord save him. He supposed he did look a bit like the cartoon character in his uniform. The Lord knew he never wanted the pressure that came with the crown.

Duty and friendship put him close enough to the Prince to see what he dealt with on a daily bases. The demands—everyone wanted something from him—the politics, the economy, the public appearances … it was never ending, and it all fell on the Prince’s shoulders.

“He does look as handsome as Prince Charming, doesn’t he?” Amanda saved him. “But Prince Charming is a character in a book. This is Xavier Marcel LeDuc, Commandant of the Royal Pasadonian Republican Guard. He’s a real Royal Guard to the Prince of Pasadonia.”

“Wow.” The exclamation came in one voice.

Xavier bit back a grin and bowed to his audience. The little girl who called him Prince Charming melted to her knees. He met Amanda’s gaze and she winked at him. That did win a smile.

“It is my pleasure to meet you,” he said to the small crowd of children. “Miss Carn has kindly asked me here to talk to you about my profession.”

“Yes.” Amanda took control. “Everyone take a seat. We’ll let Commandant LeDuc speak for a few minutes and then you can ask some questions.”

Taking his hand, she led him to the front of the group then she squeezed his hand and left him to it.

“Wait. Hold this.” He pushed the leather carrying case into Amanda’s hands.

She gasped a little at the weight. “What is it?”

“Visual aid. I borrowed a sword from the collection, but I did not realize it would be such young children.”

“Oh my, that would be an impressive show and tell.” She bit her lip as if considering the idea and then shook her head.

“You’re right, they’re too young. They’d want to touch.” She grinned. “You can show me later.”

He deliberately put the thought of showing her his sword from his mind as he turned to his task. Looking at the young faces he realized he needed to keep this simple.

“Pasadonia is a small country in Europe, and instead of a president we have a Prince. This lovely young lady called me Prince Charming, but in fact I’m the person who guards the Prince.”

“Like the secret serve guys?” One of the older boys asked. “I saw them in a movie.”

“Yes, the Secret Service is an agency responsible for protecting the President and other important dignitaries. I am a soldier. In Pasadonia there are two branches of the military, one is civil defense and the other is responsible for protecting the royal family.”

“If you’re a soldier, how come you don’t have any weapons?” a husky kid with spiked blond hair and freckles demanded. “The policeman who talked to us had a gun.”

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