It was joy he was seeing and hearing.

His children and Annie were laughing as they pounded snow into balls and tossed them at each other.

Annie looked at him then, and something between them connected and he nearly smiled back. What would it feel like, Hans wondered, to just give in to the urge to take her into his arms? What would it be like to kiss her? He was overwhelmed by the urge to try. God, she was lovely. Maybe it was the soft light, or the drifting snow, or the crisp chill air, but suddenly Annie looked delicious enough to eat.

And he was hungry….

For every woman who dreamed of a prince…

Emma and the Earl (SR #1410)

Plain Jane Marries the Boss (SR #1416)

Annie and the Prince (SR #1423)

Dear Reader,

The year 2000 marks the twentieth anniversary of Silhouette Books! Ever since May 1980, Silhouette Books—and its flagship line, Silhouette Romance—has published the best in contemporary category romance fiction. And the year’s stellar lineups across all Silhouette series continue that tradition.

This month in Silhouette Romance, Susan Meier unveils her miniseries BREWSTER BABY BOOM, in which three brothers confront instant fatherhood after inheriting six-month-old triplets! First up is The Baby Bequest, in which Evan Brewster does diaper duty…and learns a thing or two about love from his much-younger, mommy-in-the-making assistant. In Teresa Southwick’s charming new Silhouette Romance novel, a tall, dark and handsome man decides to woo a jaded nurse With a Little T.L.C. The Sheik’s Solution is a green-card marriage to his efficient secretary in this lavish fairy tale from Barbara McMahon.

Elizabeth Harbison’s CINDERELLA BRIDES series continues with the magnificent Annie and the Prince. In Cara Colter’s dramatic A Babe in the Woods, a mystery man arrives on a reclusive woman’s doorstep with a babe on his back—and a gun in his backpack! Then we have a man without a memory who returns to his Prim, Proper…Pregnant former fiancée—this unique story by Alice Sharpe is a must-read for those who love twists and turns.

In coming months, look for special titles by longtime favorites Diana Palmer, Joan Hohl, Kasey Michaels, Dixie Browning, Phyllis Halldorson and Tracy Sinclair, as well as many newer but equally loved authors. It’s an exciting year for Silhouette Books, and we invite you to join the celebration!

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

Annie and the Prince
Elizabeth Harbison

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To two of the finest men who ever walked this earth:

John Edward McShulskis (1932-1983)

and

John Anthony McShulskis (1910-1998)

Lives well lived.

I’m so proud to have had such great men as my father

and grandfather.

Books by Elizabeth Harbison

Silhouette Romance

A Groom for Maggie #1239

Wife Without a Past #1258

Two Brothers and a Bride #1286

True Love Ranch #1323

Emma and the Earl #1410

Plain Jane Marries the Boss #1416

Annie and the Prince #1423

ELIZABETH HARBISON

has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. After devouring the Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden series in grade school, she moved on to the suspense of Mary Stewart, Dorothy Eden and Daphne du Maurier, just to name a few. From there it was a natural progression to writing, although early efforts have been securely hidden away in the back of a closet.

After authoring three cookbooks, Elizabeth turned her hand to writing romances and hasn’t looked back. Her second book for Silhouette Romance, Wife Without a Past, was a 1998 finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Award in the “Best Traditional Romance” category.

Elizabeth lives in Maryland with her husband, John, and daughter, Mary Paige, as well as two dogs, Bailey and Zuzu. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Box 1636, Germantown, MD 20875.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Prologue

“Oh, Annie, I can’t believe you’re going! Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Quitting your job and just taking off for Europe this way?”

Annie Barimer looked at her friend, Joy Simon, who worked in the admissions office at Pendleton School for Girls. Annie, until this very moment, had been the school librarian there for five years. “I’m sure, Joy,” she said, without a trace of the melancholy Joy had etched all over her face. “Besides, I’m not just ‘taking off for Europe’, as you well know. I’m going to travel for one short week.” It was hard to contain her glee. France! Germany! She was finally going to the places she’d wanted to see for so long. The week would pass very fast. “Then I go to Kublenstein and start my new job.”

“For strangers.” Joy sniffed dramatically and took another piece of the sheet cake the staff had bought for Annie’s farewell party. She scooped some soupy ice cream onto the paper plate. “Who knows what they’re like? They may be a family of psycho killers.”

“They are the daughters of Marie de la Fuenza,” Annie corrected.

“Right. And what do we know about her?”

“We know that twenty years ago she attended Pendleton for the full four years and that her mother also attended. Plus her family virtually paid for the library.” She raised an eyebrow at Joy. “I think we can trust them.”

Joy wasn’t convinced. “You’ve got to admit they’ve been a little cryptic about the job. It’s always the daughters of Marie de la Fuenza. What’s her married name? What are the daughters’ names? Why is everything addressed through the embassy in Kublenstein instead of a home address? Where is Kublenstein anyway?”

“It’s in the Alps,” Annie answered, refusing to be troubled by Joy’s other admittedly good points. “And her husband is an important figure in the government there or something, so everything is being arranged very carefully.”

Joy shrugged. “Well, I still don’t see what’s wrong with staying right here at Pendleton.”

“I’ve been wanting to go to Europe all my life but this is the first chance I’ve ever gotten to actually go live there for awhile and get paid for it.” Pictures of the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Parthenon, the Colosseum and a million other grand European landmarks danced in her head. The dreary little town of Pendleborough couldn’t compare on any level. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

“Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

Annie laughed and pulled back a tendril of coffee-colored hair that had escaped from her braid and kept tickling her cheek. “I’ve only said it a thousand times.” A couple of teachers from the math department walked past, patted her shoulder and wished her luck. She thanked them and turned back to Joy and the conversation at hand. “Look, this is a dream come true. Be happy for me.”

Joy raised her hands in front of her. “All right, all right. To be honest, I’m not worried about you in Europe at all, I’m worried about me, here. I’m going to be bored out of my mind when you’re gone.”

“I’ll write,” Annie told her sincerely. She imagined herself printing the Pendleton address on an envelope from thousands of miles away. The idea made her feel giddy, even though Joy would prefer the immediacy of e-mail. “I promise.”

Joy put a piece of cake into her mouth and nodded. “That’s what you say now.” She held up a finger, swallowed, then added, “But what happens when you find your Prince Charming over there and get so wrapped up in a romance that you forget about writing, hmm?”

“So that’s where Prince Charming is,” Annie said, with mock surprise. “Stupid me, I’ve been kissing frogs on the wrong side of the Atlantic for twenty-five years.”

Joy raised an eyebrow. “Laugh if you want to, but I have a feeling you’re going to meet someone there. Someone romantically significant. You might never come back!”

Annie was sure Joy couldn’t have been further off the mark. She couldn’t even imagine meeting the man of her dreams overseas and never coming back…though the idea had some appeal as a fantasy. “You’re right that I’ll be meeting someone. Actually, two someones. Marie de la Fuenza’s daughters. I hate to disillusion you, but I’m going to have no time for any kind of social life at all.” It was true. Even if she was the extroverted type who’d go out and meet people to party with, she wasn’t going to have time for it with this job.

“Remember that tarot card reading I did for you?” Joy asked. “It said you were going to meet a very important and powerful man. That card was in the love position.”

Annie thought about it, then recalled what her friend was talking about. “Joy, that was just a prank for the school fair. Surely you don’t believe in any of that stuff. For heaven’s sake, you were reading it right out of a book.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. Besides, my psychic feelings have been right before,” Joy said, hurt.

“When?”

“I told you Judy Gallagher was pregnant.”

It was on the tip of Annie’s tongue to point out that everyone had realized Judy was pregnant as soon as she started bolting from her first period Social Studies class for the bathroom every morning. Instead, Annie gave a concessionary nod. “That’s true, you did.”

“And I’m right about this, too. You mark my words.”

“Duly marked.”

“Besides, you need to meet a guy. You need to have someone to support you in a year when your job tutoring English ends and you’re out of work.”

“It’s not always that easy to find someone.”

Joy sighed. “So…what are you wearing on the plane?”

Annie laughed. Joy’s greatest pleasure in life, next to food, was fashion. And she was quite good at it, too, if not exactly a willowy fashion plate herself.

“I’m wearing this,” Annie answered, indicating the comfy cotton sweater and leggings she was wearing.

“Honestly, you have this great figure and you never do anything to emphasize it. It’s so unfair. Maybe you should take me along to advise you.”

“I’m sure I should.”

There was a faint honking outside the door. Annie moved to look out the window. A yellow cab had pulled up in the courtyard in front of the library building.

“Cab’s here,” someone called, just as Annie saw it.

“Time to go, I guess.”

“Looks like it,” Joy said miserably.

Annie couldn’t commiserate. Her heart felt as light as air. In fact, it was fluttering just like a bird from the excitement. This wasn’t regular anticipation. Annie was feeling like her whole life was about to change forever.

Could there possibly be something to Joy’s prediction?

She took a steady breath and gave Joy a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t look so sad. I promised I would write to you and I will.”

“You better. Have you got the digital camera I gave you?”

“All packed.”

“Good. Take pictures. E-mail them to me. You remember how I showed you?”

“I remember.” Annie moved to get in the back seat, waving to the people who had congregated to watch her go.

“And don’t forget to tell me all about him,” Joy added significantly.

Annie’s face warmed. As soon as the cab drove away, people would pounce on Joy to find out what that comment had meant. Oh, well, let them. Maybe she even preferred it that way.

After all, this was the end of Annie—Boring Librarian and the beginning of Annie—Woman of the World.

Chapter One

Why was she feeling so apprehensive? Annie wondered. She sighed and leaned against the train window, watching the Alpine countryside whip by as they sped toward Lassberg, the capital of the tiny European country of Kublenstein. True, things hadn’t worked out well with her hotel in Paris, and Germany had turned out to be more expensive than she could afford. But now she was headed to Kublenstein two days earlier than expected so she could get the lay of the land before meeting her new employers.

It would be nice. She hadn’t been on a real vacation since she was six and had gone to a local amusement park a couple of towns over from her Maryland home. Since high school she’d just been treading water, working to stay afloat and to pay the never-ending cycle of bills. All of that would change, now. She had a good job in what was apparently a wonderful household in Europe. It was just what she’d always dreamed of.

But as the train rails rattled under her feet, she dissected her plan for the hundredth time and couldn’t see one thing in it that should make her stomach feel like it was full of bats.

The train lurched and a young man with pale blond hair and a large rucksack on his back knocked against her, spilling hot drops of coffee on her blouse. “Very sorry, ma’am,” he said, with a light Scandinavian accent.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, but he had already moved on, not having waited for a response. She pushed her heavy reading glasses back up the bridge of her nose and rummaged through her bag for a tissue. She hated being called ma’am, especially by people who were only a few years younger than she was. And how did he know to speak English? She must look very American.

She dabbed at the coffee with a sigh. The stain remained. She balled the tissue up, put it in the trash receptacle, and tried to return her attention to the book in her lap, but it was difficult. The train was noisy and hot, and so humid that the air almost felt damp against her skin. The coffee stain did.

After one or two unsuccessful tries to concentrate on the book in her hand, she set it back down in her lap and let her mind wander to more familiar thoughts of home. If she’d stayed, she’d be in her small, chilly apartment now, watching the news and eating leftover Chinese food. In the morning, her alarm would go off at 6:50 a.m. and she’d shower and drive to work. Not that that was totally unfulfilling. As librarians went, she was an exceptionally good one. She always enjoyed helping students find more creative ways to look at their assignments. She encouraged them to take the harder route in order to learn more and she loved to help them find strong role models in heroic characters from literature.

Unfortunately, at Pendleton that was often considered ‘pushing the envelope’ and she’d been told more than once by members of the very conservative board of directors to leave the teaching to the teachers.

It was distinctly possible that if she hadn’t resigned when she did the board would have asked the headmaster, Lawrence Pegrin, to dismiss her. Lawrence had had some stern words for her about her tutoring methods more than once, though she suspected he secretly approved. In fact, when Marie de la Fuenza’s husband had contacted the school looking for a suitable English tutor and nanny, Lawrence had suggested Annie without hesitation. In a private conversation he’d assured her that if it didn’t work out she could return to Pendleton, regardless of what the board of directors wished.

That was some comfort, though not quite enough to make her relax now. It was almost as if she was having some sort of premonition, but she couldn’t decipher it. Was something horrible about to happen? Or something wonderful? It was such a fine line between excitement and fear.

Looking at the passing scenery, Annie thought if a fairy tale could come true, this would be the place for it. The mountains stretched high toward the steel-gray sky, huge triangles of shadow and snow. Ancient evergreens with white snow fingertips stood indomitably, as they had done for thousands of years. It was a landscape for the Brothers Grimm, as dreamy as clouds, yet with a healthy hint of the gothic snaking through the hazy shadows of the deep woodlands.

As the miles of icy black forest rolled by she looked around at the other coach passengers. There seemed to be thousands of them, and at least half looked like college students, faces aglow with the excitement of travel and with voices loud and enthusiastic.

Suddenly Annie felt claustrophobic from it all. If she had to stay in this hot, crowded car for one more moment she’d stop breathing. She decided to see if there was another car farther up with fewer people.

She shoved her book into her bag, got up and hauled her two suitcases onto the link between cars where there was a tiny bathroom. The air was cooler immediately. She’d rather stand here for the rest of the trip than go back to the crowded coach car, though it was probably against the rules. Unfortunately, she’d have to shlep her heavy bags with her through the cars until she found someplace else to sit.

But first she was going to try to get rid of the still-damp coffee stain on her shirt. She slipped into the minute bathroom and wedged the door open with her foot so she could keep an eye on her bags. The stiff paper towels were practically water resistant, but she was able to get most of the coffee out of the fabric. What was left, she noted with a sigh, was a huge collection of watermarks.

She stepped out of the bathroom and went to an open window between the cars and breathed in the frigid air. She took another deep breath and hoisted up her bags again, opening the door to the next car with her shoulder. It was strangely empty and deliciously quiet. She realized immediately it was a first-class car. The private cubicles were tempting with their closed doors, cushioned seats, and tiny wall lights giving off a warm glow against the chill gray landscape outside. It was impossible to resist. On impulse, she decided to go into one of the compartments and languish there as a first-class passenger until they got to Lassberg or until someone kicked her out. After all, it wasn’t like stealing. If she didn’t use one, it would just go on being empty.

Suddenly she noticed an extraordinarily handsome man in the compartment before her. He was alone. It was obvious no one was coming back to sit with him. Something about his posture suggested detachment. Isolation. She craned her neck to try and see his hands. No ring, just as she’d guessed.

She caught her breath. If only she were the type of woman a man like this would look at twice. Dreamer, she chastised herself. She hadn’t been the type to catch a man’s eye in all of her twenty-five years, and it wasn’t likely to happen now, especially with an Adonis like the one she was looking at.

Still, she had been swept up in the fairy-tale atmosphere of the Alps and the memory of Joy’s prediction. Why not go with it, just for another moment? She touched her finger to the door. “Maybe you’d be my Prince Charming,” she said under her breath, her words fogging the glass. “If fairy godmothers really existed.” She gave a slight laugh. “And if it wasn’t so heinous for a modern woman to want a Prince Charming.”

The man’s profile, illuminated by the little orange glow of the reading lights, was arresting. The nose was straight and long, his cheekbones beautifully pronounced and his jaw was square and strong. His gleaming hair was as dark as Heathcliff’s in Wuthering Heights. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but the lashes were long and dark and she was certain his expression was brooding.

On the surface he looked like an ordinary guy, wearing an old pair of jeans and a ragged wool sweater. It seemed a little strange that he was in first class—he could almost have passed for one of the students in the other car except that he was older. There was a regal quality about him that gave Annie the impression that he was right at home in the elegant accommodations.

Clack clack sheesh clack clack sheesh, the train rumbled beneath her feet racing across the miles of picturesque countryside. The door to his compartment was open just a crack. Someone with more nerve than Annie would have walked right in and sat down.

She nearly laughed at the very idea of herself doing something like that. It was completely unlike her. If she did it, if she could gather enough nerve just to go for it, it would be baptism by fire, but—

“Excuse me, miss, may I have your ticket please?” a cheery, loud German voice called behind her.

She whirled around to face a short, round, uniformed railroad employee. One hand was filled with passenger tickets that he’d already collected, his other hand was extended toward Annie expectantly.

“Yes…I…” Her face flamed as she thought, for one wild moment, that he might have known what she’d been contemplating. She fumbled awkwardly through her purse, looking for the first-class ticket she knew wasn’t in there and hoping for the coach-class ticket that should have been. She switched from English to German and said, “One moment. It’s in here somewhere.”

She glanced up and the train employee lowered his brow.

“Really.” She dug some more, feeling more hopeless by the second of ever finding the ticket. “I bought it right before I got on board in Munich.” She prayed silently that the Greek god in the private compartment wasn’t watching. He probably was, after all the door to his compartment was nearly all glass and she was right in front of it.

The train conductor shifted his weight and crossed his arms in front of him. “Come now, miss, you can purchase your ticket on board. It’s four hundred marks.”

Annie felt her blood drain to her feet. “Four hundred—” The train suddenly lurched and she lost her balance, teetering momentarily against the door to the mystery man’s compartment before it flew open, sending her sprawling onto the hard metal floor in front of the man himself, her glasses clattering on the floor beside her.

“I’m sorry.” Annie felt around for her glasses and, finding them, put them on. She met the man’s eyes, which were green and even more intense than she possibly could have imagined, and mentally shrank to about two inches tall.

The man shifted in his seat, watching with what appeared to be some interest. Those incredible eyes flicked from her to the angry-looking train official and back again, but he said nothing.

“I’m so sorry.” Annie scrambled to her feet, and tried to smile.

He smiled back and cocked his head slightly, as if questioning what she did for an encore. “Quite all right,” he said smoothly.

He took her breath away and made her lose all track of what she was going to say. “I was…”

The train employee cleared his throat, an unpleasant reminder of the other presence in the compartment.

She turned to him and said, “I’ve got my ticket here someplace.”

Both men looked at her, so she made another attempt at finding her ticket in her bag. It was nowhere to be seen. In English, she muttered a mild oath that would, nevertheless, have gotten a student at Pendleton sent to the headmaster’s office.

The ticket collector frowned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to purchase a ticket, miss.”

“She said she has a ticket already,” the other man said, in a voice as rich and smooth as crème brûlée. His German was slightly accented, but Annie couldn’t tell what the inflection was.

“Policy, sir.” The little round face grew redder. “I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the Adonis said. He hesitated for a moment, then reached for a small leather backpack at his feet. He nodded at Annie. “Please, allow me.” He pulled out several large-denomination bills.

“No, no, I can’t let you do that,” Annie objected, digging in her purse for the four hundred marks.

“But I insist.” Her unlikely hero gave a cold nod to the other man. “Please bring her bags in here.” He started to hand some bills to the man but Annie, who had been hurriedly counting out the four hundred, handed her money to him first. “Thank you anyway,” she said to the Adonis.

He held her eyes steadily, just a touch of a smile on his lips. “Certainly.”

The rail employee started to speak, but his mouth shut suddenly and he poked his head forward to study Annie’s knight more closely. “Wait a minute…Don’t tell me you’re—”

The man looked down suddenly, like a reflex. “Thank you so much for your help. That will be all.” With that dismissal, he looked away, heedless of the ticket collector’s stare.

The train worker left, scratching his head, and muttering, “Of course it’s not him, he wouldn’t be here,” without even a glance back at Annie.

Annie studied the man wondering who the conductor had thought her companion was. He kept his face slightly averted. Whoever it was that he looked like, he didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Probably some obscure European movie star. He certainly had the looks for it. More to the point, he was turning her insides to melted butter, and she’d better stop gawking at him.

“Thank you for your offer of help,” she said, and began to back toward the door. “I apologize for this intrusion on your privacy.”

He gave a shrug. “It’s no problem. I’m only sorry that man was such an unpleasant ambassador to my country. You are American?”

She stopped and nodded, wondering if he expected her to stay.

“Please,” he said, answering her unasked question with a wave of his hand. “Have a seat. I’d welcome the company, unless you have someplace else you have to be.”

“N-no. Thank you.” She sat, mesmerized by him.

“I wouldn’t want you to take home the impression that Kublenstein is unfriendly to strangers,” he said, with a devastating smile.

“I won’t, I absolutely won’t,” she said. There was a moment’s silence, so she added, “I really do have a ticket, or at least I did…”

“I believe you.”

But she wasn’t sure if he really believed her or not. “My name is Annie, by the way.” He didn’t answer right away, so she prodded him, “And you are…?”

He watched her for a moment, wearing an expression she couldn’t quite read. “You don’t know?” he asked after a long minute.

A tickle ran over her skin, like a cool breeze. It was a feeling she’d had before, always when something big was about to happen. She had that sense now, that his question held more significance than it appeared to. “No,” she said simply. “Should I?”

He smiled. “No, of course not. I simply thought I’d—I’d already said.” He shrugged, but looked suspiciously like the cat that ate the canary. He extended his hand to her. “I am Hans.”

She took his hand, smiling at the warmth of his touch. Joy’s premonition of her meeting someone came to mind again and she nearly laughed. Well, in a way, Joy had been right. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He kept his grasp on her hand, seemingly distracted. “Believe me,” he said, his smile broadening. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Suddenly she was overwhelmed by his handsomeness and the intensity with which he leveled his gaze at her. She looked down and cleared her throat. “I have to say, I’m not normally so clumsy…or so careless as to lose my ticket. It must be jet lag or something. It’s my first time in Europe.”

“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised. “Your German is quite good.”

She felt a flush rise in her cheeks. “Thanks. My grandmother was German and she spoke it to me for the first five years of my life.” She was rambling. She always rambled when she was nervous. “I’ve wanted to come visit her homeland for as long as I can remember.”

“I see.” He nodded thoughtfully. “So why have you decided to visit now?”

“First, I finally had enough money saved up to come. I almost wasn’t able to do it at all, but then I got a job and…” She let her voice trail off, realizing she was starting to ramble again. “Anyway, here I am.”

“Here you are.” He continued to look at her in a way that made her squirm.

A short silence filled the car.

Annie had an inexplicable urge to fill it. “You know, I really don’t know how I lost my ticket. I put it with my passport in this secure zipper pouch right here—” she lifted her purse and unzipped the side “—so I could be very sure where they were. There must be a hole or something—oh.” She pulled the ticket out of the pocket and felt her face grow hot. “That’s strange. Why on earth wasn’t it there before?” Annie was seriously disconcerted. She’d searched the pocket thoroughly. It was almost like magic.

When she looked up, Hans was wearing a questioning expression.

“I know this looks strange, but I really didn’t do it on purpose.”

He looked amused. “I wouldn’t think so.”

An awkward silence stretched between them and after a few moments Annie asked, “So…are you stopping in Lassberg?”

“I am.” He nodded, eyeing her. His words sounded careful. “I live there.”

“How lucky for you. It’s a lovely countryside.”

“Yes, I agree.”

She looked out at a mountain ski run. “Do you do a lot of skiing, living here?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I don’t get out that much. My…work…prevents it.”

She looked at him and smiled. “You’re out now.”

“I am, but it’s for business. Every month or so I take a trip like this into the countryside for a few days, but even then I don’t take much time for recreation.”

Annie would have given anything for a job that involved such a lovely perk as train trips across the Alps. “What is it you do?”

He hesitated, then said, “I work for the civil service. It’s not very interesting. What about you?” It was a slightly abrupt change of subject. “Are you going to be vacationing in Lassberg?”

“Well, for a couple of days. After that…” Perhaps because of her fatigue, Annie found herself wishing he’d ask her out. She immediately brought her fantasy into check. She didn’t even know the man. He was a stranger on a train. With that in mind, she didn’t go on to tell him she’d be taking a job as a private English tutor in Lassberg in a few days.

“After that…?” he prompted.

She hesitated. “I’m just going to vacation here for a couple of days.” She shrugged. “Then it’s back to work.”

But as Annie settled back into her seat in the first-class compartment, and looked at the handsome stranger across from her, it wasn’t her new job that made her smile. Instead, it was the thought that maybe Joy’s prediction of finding her own Prince Charming just might turn out to be true.

Chapter Two

Prince Ludwig Johann Ambrose George of Kublenstein, known to the public and the press as Prince Johann, and to a select few as Hans, leaned back against the stiff leather seat of the train to study the woman before him.

She was very attractive, though she was doing everything she could not to show it. Her glossy dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid in the back. He couldn’t help but imagine taking her hair out of the braid and running his fingers slowly through it. It would be soft, he knew, and probably smelled of flowers. He focused on her eyes, looking for the vivid blue he’d glimpsed there when her glasses had slipped off. They were intelligent eyes. That was what he liked about them. In fact, her face was nice altogether. Straight, unremarkable nose, strong chin, prettily curved mouth, smooth skin.

It was difficult to tell about her figure, since she wore a rather bulky sweater and baggy jeans, yet it didn’t matter. She was a pretty girl, there was no doubt in Hans’s mind, but she clearly didn’t know it.

Overall, though, she looked quite different from the women he dated, he thought idly. There was nothing ostentatious about her. Hers was a quiet, understated beauty that appealed to him on every level.

Her personality was another thing. She was more outspoken than he was used to, bolder. Very pleasant but there was a strength beneath the surface that gave him pause. After all, was an American—were all women raised in America so outspoken? The thought concerned him since he had just hired an American woman, sight unseen, to be the English teacher and caretaker for his two daughters.

Of course, the woman he’d hired—Anastasia Barimer—had impeccable references. There was considerable reassurance in that. She’d worked at the exclusive girls’ school that his late wife and mother-in-law had attended—one of the most prestigious schools in America. In hiring her, he’d fulfilled his late wife’s single wish for her daughters—that they wouldn’t be packed off to boarding school thousands of miles from home as she had been. Though there had been a lot of distance between Hans and Marie, physically and emotionally, he had enough respect for her to comply with the simple wish she had had for their daughters’ education.

Pendleton School for Girls had a lot of respect for Marie, too, and he knew they would never send someone unsuitable. Yes, he reassured himself, he’d done the right thing by hiring an American for his daughters.

And for the future of the monarchy. His people wanted to further international relations. He had several ideas of how to do so, but it would also be a good idea for his daughters to begin learning English from a native. They’d had some lessons, of course, from Frau Markham, but her knowledge of the language was limited. The new teacher would be able to teach them all of the nuances of the language, the idioms, the colloquialisms, all of the things they’d need to know as ambassadors for their country. Truthfully, he could use the practice himself. His plan was that they would only speak English in the house while the teacher was there.

He’d planned it completely and saw little to no room for error. He only hoped she wouldn’t be as headstrong as this Annie seemed to be.

He also hoped she wouldn’t be as young. And as…appealing.

Not that it mattered. He hadn’t wanted Annie to stay and talk during the train ride because of her looks. He’d asked her because he thought she might have some interesting opinions on his country. The fact that this was her first time here made her an ideal person to get a fresh outlook on Kublenstein. That and the fact that she apparently didn’t recognize him.

He’d spent the last week traveling alone—without bodyguards and secretaries—living among his people, in small villages and towns, and listening to their concerns about their country. The one thing that had come up over and over again was the fact that Kublenstein wasn’t an international player. Most of the world hadn’t even heard of Kublenstein, and those who had regarded it as a quaint little throwback vacation spot. But the people of Kublenstein wanted a voice in the European Economic Community. They wanted to be a force in exports and have the respect of the world for their watchmaking and their chocolates, in particular.

After hearing all of that, and agreeing with it, Hans could hardly pass up the opportunity to talk with an open-minded foreigner.

“What is it you do in America?” he asked her, telling himself that his interest was purely clinical and that he was, effectively, gathering data for his interview. Information like the curve of her mouth when she spoke or the brightness that seemed to emanate from behind her eyes would have to be dismissed as irrelevant.

She paused and her chest rose gently as she took a breath. “School librarian.”

“Ah.” He nodded. For some reason it surprised him, though he didn’t know what he’d expected. “A librarian. So what made you decide to come to Kublenstein? Did the students at your school study it?”

She paused thoughtfully. “Well, some have heard the story about the little peasant girl who stopped the war for a day.” Legend had it that a little girl had found a wounded enemy soldier on her front porch during a World War I battle and had assisted him despite the pleas from both sides to return to the safety of her home. While she was out there, no shots were fired.”

“That’s just a myth.”

“Isn’t there a statue built to her in the town square?” Annie asked, reaching for her tour book.

“Yes, but the story is exaggerated.” He was troubled. “Is that all American students learn about Kublenstein?”

“Well…” She didn’t want to offend him, so she didn’t point out that it was very few students who even knew that much. “It’s a very small country.”

That attitude always annoyed him, even though it was true. “Smaller than some, yes, but bigger than others.”

“It’s more of an underrated place than small, I think,” Annie amended. “The only time I can remember any mention of Kublenstein at all was in a history class, and that was just a passing reference that had something to do with Switzerland’s neutrality. But I think it is a charming place.”

“Charming,” he repeated, rolling the word out as if to decide whether he liked it or not.

She pressed her lips together then looked at him seriously. “Oh, yes. Charm means a lot to me. I don’t visit a place because of how far apart the borders are, I go for what’s inside.”

He looked at her with interest. “And what do you think you’ll find inside Kublenstein?” He’d only known her briefly, but he already knew enough to realize such a question could be dangerous when posed to such an honest young woman.

She gave a wry laugh. “I really don’t know. But other places in Europe are bound to be loaded with tourists. Like Paris. I was just there and it was mobbed. But take a place like Lassberg, that you don’t hear much about, and you probably can have the place to yourself.”

He kept his reaction under tight control. He knew she didn’t mean to touch a nerve by pointing out the lack of tourists. “People do live here, you know.”

“Oh, I know. That’s what’s so exciting about it. You can visit and live among the people rather than a bunch of other tourists.” She looked at him with a question in her eyes. “Wouldn’t you rather keep the tourists out? I mean, as a native, wouldn’t you rather preserve your country’s natural charm than exploit it?”

He tightened his jaw and looked out the window. “Kublenstein, like every other European country, needs the revenues that tourism brings in. Without it, the charm you are so interested in would deteriorate.”

“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” She looked out the window again. “It seems a shame.”

“It’s the way it is,” he said, under his breath. It wasn’t her that he was upset with, but the truth of what she said.

“I hope I haven’t offended you,” she said.

She was obviously sincere. “No, of course you haven’t. You were just being honest,” he said magnanimously. Though the news of how little-known Kublenstein was in America wasn’t good, she had told him something of what he needed to know about the American perception of his country.

“Anyway,” she went on. “The size of a place doesn’t make any difference when you consider that you’re trapped in your own head no matter where you are. I mean, even now, in this compartment on the train, I’m stretching my wings more than I ever have in my life.”

He couldn’t help but feel caught up by her enthusiasm. “That’s a good thing, yes?” For just a moment, he wished he could share the same feeling that she seemed to be experiencing.

She gave him a radiant smile, which made his chest tighten. “You know, as strange as it sounds, I feel great. Like something incredible is about to happen.”

It was. He could see it in her eyes. For just a moment, he almost felt it, too, but the feeling was soon replaced by the crashing loneliness that was more familiar to him. Not self-pity, just the solitary existence he’d grown used to over the years.

“This is such beautiful countryside,” she commented, bringing him out of his own thoughts.

He looked to see the familiar mountain peak where his palace was nestled. “Ah, yes,” he said, gesturing toward the window. He was almost home. A small thrill of relief went through him, as it always did. “Although, as you pointed out, it’s small.”

She looked at him and he saw she understood his implication completely. “I didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”

He didn’t like being read that easily. He pointed to the cathedral outside. “We’re coming to the Lassberg city limits now. That’s the Bonner Cathedral.”

She followed the line of his hand. “It looks like something from Hans Christian Andersen. Everything here does. I keep thinking that.”

He’d always taken great pride in the beauty of his country, and it pleased him no end to see the admiration in her eyes, despite what she’d said earlier. It had been a long time since he’d seen someone look at his land with the kind of awe he thought it deserved.

The fact that she did warmed his heart and his feelings toward her.

“No wonder so many fairy tales were written around here,” she said wistfully, looking, for a moment, with such longing that he wondered what was in her heart. She answered the unasked question. “This looks just like the kind of land where people could live happily ever after.”

He gave a brief nod. “Yes. Some people, I suppose.” Foolish, romantic people.

She laughed and stretched her arms out over her head for a moment, saying, “I hope more than just some.”

Expectation shone in her eyes. He spoke before he thought. “I’m quite certain you would, if you stayed,” he reassured her, then stopped, startled by his own feelings. Why had he said that? How silly to be carried away by her ebullience that way.

She met his eyes, and for just an instant they shared some undefinable exchange.

“That is, I believe you’ll like it here,” he said, trying to regain his footing. He had to remain detached, had to command respect. It had been drilled into him since birth. So why did he slip now? It had to be exhaustion because he couldn’t possibly feel as at ease with this woman as it seemed. “While you’re here. Most of our few tourists enjoy their visit.”

“I think I will,” she agreed, then yawned. “Sorry. Anyway, I already am. Enjoying your country, I mean. And I caught that ‘few tourists’ crack.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. Intelligent girl. He’d known her for not more than an hour, and she’d already raised just about every emotion in him. He could not remember ever having met someone so simultaneously exasperating and fascinating.

If she was staying longer, he might want to get to know her better. Just to figure out what it was about her that had him so…piqued.

Thank goodness she wasn’t staying.

“You know what’s interesting?” Annie said, stopping his wandering thoughts. “You strike me as a very solitary person. It surprises me that you actually want more tourism in your country.”

She’d pegged him. “My personal desires are not always commensurate with the needs of my country. When it comes to a choice between their needs versus my own, I have to honor my country over myself.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you’re really patriotic.”

“I have to be. It’s my job.”

Annie clicked her tongue. “I know plenty of civil servants who don’t give a darn about anything but their paychecks.”

“Their work must not be very fulfilling then.”

“Is yours?” she asked, slicing right into the heart of the matter.

He considered her for a moment, then said, “I don’t think I know you well enough to answer that question.”

She looked a little bemused, but accepted his answer. “Okay. I don’t want to pry.” She didn’t leave it at that, though. He’d known her only an hour or so, but he already knew her well enough to know that it would have gone against her character to leave it at that. “But if I were to guess,” she went on, “I’d say it wasn’t.”

He looked at her. “Really.”

“I mean, if it was, you’d probably be glad to say so. People usually refuse to share their negative feelings but not their positive ones.”

He tried to remain impassive. “Interesting observation.”

She yawned again. “Not that I know you well enough to tell, of course.”

“No,” he said evenly. “You don’t.” Yet somehow he felt she did, or could very easily.

She splayed her arms. “Feel free to correct me on anything I get wrong here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sound like a journalist.”

“Or maybe I’m psychic.” She smiled, joking. “Does that frighten you?”

He waited, then answered honestly though with a slight smile. “More than you can imagine.”

She must have dozed for just a minute without realizing it because Annie suddenly found herself leaning against the window with Hans reading a newspaper in front of her. How long had she been out?

Thank goodness he wasn’t looking at her, because as she came around she had lingering daydream images of herself and Hans in unspeakable—but unforgettable—entanglements together. Yet the lingering feeling she had from the dreams was not of sexual fulfillment, but of emotional fulfillment. For just those brief few minutes that she had dreamed, Hans had been the answer to every ache and pain of loneliness that she’d ever felt.

Which was just how illogical dreams were, really, because while the man in front of her was the stuff of sexual dreams, he didn’t seem to have a single impulse for fun. And though he’d been kind to offer to help her, he wasn’t exactly a warm man.

But something in her said that he could be. That he needed someone to cover him and warm him and show him how to enjoy life and not just be all business all the time.

“Then again, you probably have a wife for that, don’t you?” she said under her breath.

He lowered the newspaper and looked at her in a way that made her feel she’d made a terrible mistake.

She straightened in her seat and resisted the urge to clap a hand over her mouth. Had he really heard that? What was he, bionic?

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked.

She stumbled over her response. “I—I—I was, um, saying that I suppose your wife,” she searched frantically for something to say, “takes care of the children while you’re away.” It was a terrible improvisation, but it was too late to stop. “You did say you have children?”

He gave her a long look, then shook his head. “I didn’t, no.”

“Oh, my mistake then.” The train began to slow as it entered the outskirts of Lassberg. She took the opportunity to begin gathering her things.

“I do, though.”

“Do…?”

“Have children. But my wife died a few years ago.”

She looked up, surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He gave a small, unreadable, shrug.

“How old are your children?” she asked, careful not to tread on potentially painful territory.

A small light came into his dark eyes, like a match lit in a large dark room. “Very young. Both are under ten.”

Like the de la Fuenza children she was going to care for. She loved elementary school age, an age when they began to be interested in books and in the outside world. “It must be difficult raising them on your own.”

He splayed his arms. “I have a staff to help with that.”

“A staff. My goodness, that sounds so—so large. Is that common in Kublenstein?”

He was thoughtful. “More so than in America, I think. Do you not have nannies and governesses in America?”

“It’s very rare.”

“Then who cares for the children when both parents work or are unavailable?”

“Well, there’s day care, school. People work it out, though it’s not always very easy. I think it’s something of a luxury to be able to stay home with them or have someone else stay home with them.”

“Mmm.” He nodded. “I’m very interested in the American way of raising children. Some aspects, anyway,” he amended. “For example, American children tend to be so confident. Bold. Those are good qualities.”

“Absolutely. After working in a school for so long, I’ve seen a pretty direct link between high self-esteem and lots of family involvement.”

He shifted in his seat. “Really? In what way do you mean that, family involvement?”

She stepped carefully, conscious not to insult him. “I just mean when parents spend as much time as they can with their children, the children benefit.” And Annie knew from her own experience the damage that could be done when there was no one around to take an interest in a child’s life.

“Often it’s not possible to spend a lot of time with the children.”

She shrugged. “So you make time.”

He looked out the window for a moment.

“Still, you’re a single father,” Annie went on. “That can’t be easy.”

“No,” he agreed. “There are times when it can be trying. They need a woman’s influence more than they need mine. They’ve had many caretakers yet at times they still seem so…needy. So emotional.”

“Well, there’s your problem right there,” Annie said, without stopping to think about whether she should or not.

A wall went up behind his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

She realized her mistake immediately. “Nothing,” she said, trying to backpedal. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business.”

He hesitated. He was inclined to agree with her. But seeing as how he’d only be with her for a few more minutes before they parted and he would never see her again, he felt he could listen to her opinions a bit more. After all, he’d just hired an American. It was important for him to know what kind of style he might be dealing with. “No, no, please go on. I asked you. I truly am interested in the American perspective.”

“Well…” She shrugged again. “You said you’d hired ‘many caretakers’ but what kids really need is one person they can depend on. Preferably you, since you’re…around…” She paused just for an instant. “There is an emotional risk to them if you hire a rapid succession of caretakers.”

He was genuinely puzzled. “Emotional risk?”

She frowned. “Yes. In not having one single caretaker to rely on, whether it’s you or someone you hire. But preferably you.”

His defenses went up. He wanted her general opinion, not a personal judgment. “The children know they can rely on whomever I choose to hire.”

“But maybe that’s not enough.”

“It’s enough,” he said shortly.

A vague protectiveness for the unknown children rose in Annie’s heart. “All right,” she conceded. “Just let me say this. Children need to have people in their lives who will be there for them, even when you think it’s not important, like after school, before bed, whatever. They need to know that they can count on that person to be there, to be available if they need them. Not just a person, but someone they love and trust, and who loves them, too.” Annie knew she might be overstepping the bounds of courtesy, but the conversation struck too close to her heart for her to be concerned about being polite.

He nodded slowly, watching her. Then a tiny smile nudged at the corner of his sensuous mouth. “You don’t have children of your own, do you?”

“As I said, I’ve worked with children for years.”

“Yes, well, until you have them, perhaps you don’t realize exactly what their needs are.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Her voice was quiet, but hard.

Satisfied that the conversation was settled, Hans leaned back and began thinking about the list of things he had to take care of that afternoon. He was very anxious to get away from this conversation.

“In general,” she said, cutting into the silence, “if a person has been through a long line of caretakers and can’t understand why the children are emotionally needy, I don’t think that person has been listening to them.”

Hans shifted in his seat and looked at her, hard. “May I ask why you feel so strongly about this?”

Her face went scarlet.

“It’s personal, isn’t it?” Hans went on. “This isn’t some general theory of child rearing, it’s a very specific—how do you say it?—pet peeve of yours.”

After a long hesitation, she said, “I guess you could say that. But it doesn’t change the truth of the matter.”

“What is your reason?” And why did he want, so much, to know what had hurt her in the past? His curiosity about this woman was inexplicable.

She shook her head and waved the question away. “It’s boring. Forget it, I shouldn’t have been so out-spoken with you.”

He looked at her for a moment, then shifted his eyes to the window behind her, searching for a way to change the subject from a topic that was clearly a very emotional one to this young woman. “The train has stopped. We’re at the station.”

She looked and saw they were, indeed, stopped in the station and people had already begun to disembark.

“I hope you understand that I meant no personal offense,” she offered, for the second time in an hour.

“I asked your opinion and you gave it.”

They stood simultaneously and their hands bumped against one another. Annie felt a palpable heat generate between them, but now she wasn’t sure if it was attraction or frustration.

“Well, it’s been an interesting trip,” she said, trying to break the ice before they went their separate ways.

He cocked his head. “Interesting, indeed.” He held out his hand.

Believing he intended to shake hands, she put hers out but he raised it to his lips. As he did so, she felt a shock of pleasure run up her arm and into her heart. He must have felt something, too, because he snapped back and met her eyes.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said, composing himself quickly. They walked out of the compartment and down the hall to the train exit. Hans put his arm around Annie to help her off the train, then quickly dropped it to his side.

A small group of women several feet away began to murmur among themselves, and Hans grew even more uncomfortable. A large cab headed in their direction, and Hans held a hand up for it. The driver pulled over and Hans leaned into the window and said something in rapid German to him. He then opened the door for Annie.

“Enjoy your stay in Kublenstein,” he said, giving her a lingering look. He began to say something else, then stopped.

“Thanks,” she said, climbing into the cab. “I will.”

“Goodbye,” he said, shutting the door. He turned to walk away from her.

“Goodbye,” she said softly inside the empty cab. She watched him walk away.

When he was out of sight she wondered why she suddenly felt so empty.

Chapter Three

The hotel her new employer had suggested for Annie was exquisite. Decorated with antiques and overlooking the charming street below, it was the most comfortable room Annie had stayed in since arriving in Europe. It was also about half the price of the overpriced modest room with plastic cube furniture she’d rented in Munich.

She sat in a wingback chair by the window and thought about the upcoming year. Watching the people on the street—apple-cheeked women carrying paper bags of bread and produce, children running behind them in what looked more like homemade clothes than the designer wear the students at Pendleton preferred—Annie thought she could stay in Lassberg forever. Until today, she hadn’t realized such a place still existed in the world.

What was it going to be like to stay? she wondered. Would she make friends outside of the household? Could she have a social life somehow?

Would she ever see Hans again?

She tried to squelch the thought. After all, she knew he lived in this small city. How could they not run into each other at some point?

And if they did, what would she say?

Hans, hello, I hope you weren’t upset by my evil twin on the train. Sometimes she speaks out of turn.

But she hadn’t spoken out of turn, she felt strongly about everything she’d said.

Perhaps she would just pretend there had been no acrimony.

Hans! How great to see you again! Would you like to go for a cup of coffee?

Or would that be too forward?

Finally she decided that if she saw him again, she would probably melt at his feet and not have to worry about what to say at all. He could speak first. She was much better at responding than at improvising the first words.

Across the square a steeple clock began to ring the hour. Five o’clock. As if on cue, small flurries of snow began to drift down from the clouds. Annie watched in amazement, her heart full. It felt like a miracle, and she wished there was someone to share it with. Green eyes came to mind, and gleaming dark hair, but she pushed the thought of the man away.

She watched, and dreamed, for perhaps fifteen minutes. The street had a thin veil of white over it. Finally she stood up and stretched. It was time to eat. Incredibly, the meal was included with the price of the room. As she’d gotten into the cage elevator she could have sworn she smelled Swiss Cheese Fondue. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

She went to her suitcase and took out a sweater and some warm pants. Perhaps she’d walk through the town after dinner, and try to acquaint herself with the layout.

The meal was, indeed, a rich fondue. The cook had made fresh bread minutes before Annie had gone to eat, and the yeasty-cheesy scent in the dining room was as warming as an eiderdown comforter. She ate hungrily, devouring the faintly nutty-flavored Gruyère cheese fondue, the crisp green salad, and not one but two cups of warm chocolate pudding. The cook had been delighted to see her eating so heartily.

Afterwards, she took a long, leisurely walk through the town. It was even lovelier than she’d thought, with several wooden toy shops, a clock maker, a lively corner pub where people were playing darts, and several other Dickensian-looking shops. She imagined herself taking this walk every night after dinner. Then she imagined herself at dinner with Hans across the table. Better still, she imagined sitting on the woolen rug in front of the fire with Hans…or lying on the rug in front of the fire with Hans…The thought raised gooseflesh on her arms.