Читать книгу The Marine and The Princess - Cathie Linz - Страница 11

“You’ve got to help me!” Princess Vanessa Alexandria Maria Teresa Von Volzemburg pleaded in desperation.

“What’s wrong?” her close friend Prudence Martin-Wilder asked from the other end of the phone line. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” Vanessa replied, kicking off her designer shoes and flinging herself onto the ivory damask-covered chaise lounge in her suite at the Plaza Hotel. “If I have to shake another hand or smile another empty royal smile I’m going to scream.” Her voice was shaky with exhaustion. “Here I am in New York City, the most vibrant and exciting city in the world, and I’m locked up like a prisoner.”

Vanessa stared out the hotel window at the sparkling city lights with longing. A big world was teeming with life out there. Without her.

She felt so trapped. Her prison walls were invisible bars constructed out of ingrained loyalty to her family and her country. She was burned-out from months and months of continuous projects—racing from one official function to another, putting duty above her own health, working through two bouts of flu and one of bronchitis, not pausing for illness or fatigue until she was so depleted she couldn’t even think straight anymore.

“What are you doing in New York?” Prudence asked.

Vanessa rubbed her sore feet. You’d think shoes that cost several thousand dollars and had been made just for her would be comfortable as well as stunning. Many was the time she’d longed to show up for some formal occasion wearing an old pair of broken-in athletic shoes under her Valentino haute couture gown. “I’m here for the International Chocolate Manufacturers Convention promoting the chocolate makers of Volzemburg.”

“A tough job, I know, but someone has to do it,” Prudence said in a teasing voice.

“I’ve been working since six this morning, and it’s now after eleven at night. It’s been like that every day. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at another chocolate truffle for a month,” Vanessa groaned.

Prudence laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Okay, so maybe I’ll be ready for more chocolate in an hour or two. But I won’t be ready to return to Volzemburg.” Vanessa shoved restless trembling fingers through her shoulder-length blond hair, ruining the smooth line of her expensive cut. The royal hairdresser Mimi would be distraught at the way Vanessa’s hair looked now. Tough noogies. “My father has been driving me crazy with his demands that I announce my engagement to Sebastian de Koonan.”

“Sebastian…he’s that wealthy business tycoon from Volzemburg, right?” Prudence asked.

“Right. His lineage is almost as good as mine. And he’s good-looking in his own way, I suppose. But the idea of marrying him…” Vanessa shuddered. “It would be like marrying my brother or cousin. I just don’t feel that way about him.”

“Have you told your father that?”

“Yes, certainly I’ve told him, but my father doesn’t listen to me. I can’t take this anymore!” Her voice cracked. “I’ve got to get out of this prison of responsibilities, even if only for a few days.”

“Now, Vanessa, don’t do anything rash,” Prudence warned, clearly recognizing that tone of voice from their teenage days when they’d both attended a private girls’ school together for a year.

“Don’t do anything rash?” Vanessa repeated. “This from a woman who went bungee jumping?”

“Yes, well, I’m not a princess. As you said at the time, you do have responsibilities. You can’t just take off on a vacation or something.”

“I can’t?” Vanessa sat up a little straighter. “Why not?”

“Because your life is planned out months in advance, your royal schedule booked down to the last second. Isn’t that what you told me?”

“Yes, but next week my father has me spending time with Sebastian at the palace. There aren’t any major charity functions or official business events planned.” Excitement took hold and for the first time Vanessa began to see a glimmer of light at the end of what had been a very long, dark and lonely tunnel for her. “I could just take off.”

“No, you couldn’t. That would be dangerous. You’re a wealthy princess. If you went missing your father would send out the Marines for you, or the Volzemburg equivalent of that.” Prudence’s father was a sergeant major in the U.S. Marine Corps, and last year she’d married a Marine, so she tended to voice things in Marine-like terms.

“Ah, but I wouldn’t go missing,” Vanessa said. “I could stay right here in New York City.”

“Your father wouldn’t let you do that.”

“He would if he thought I was sick. And I have been sick. I’m so beat that I’m sure I’m about to come down with something. Yes.” Vanessa cast a determined look around the well-appointed room. “I need a rest from this prison. And I have a plan that I think will work!”

“I think it’s crazy.”

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” Vanessa protested.

Prudence sighed. “Okay, go ahead. Convince me.”

“I tell my father I’ve gotten some illness. Nothing so serious he’d fly over to check on me, but something that would prevent me from getting on a plane. A terrible cold-flu thing involving my ears would be perfect.”

“That sounds real medical,” said Prudence, a school-teacher, and therefore, far too practical in Vanessa’s opinion. “What makes you think he’ll believe that you happened to get a ‘cold-flu thing’ just when you’re supposed to fly home to see Sebastian? You don’t think he’ll get suspicious?”

“Not if I have a physician speak to him.”

“How will you manage that?”

Vanessa frowned a moment before the answer came to her. “I could hire someone. This city is full of actors.”

“Okay, let’s say for the sake of argument you do convince your father. What does that get you? You’d have to stay in your suite pretending to be sick.”

“Not if I can convince my lady-in-waiting to help me, and I’m sure I can do that.” The enthusiasm in Vanessa’s voice increased as she saw her plan taking shape.

“Vanessa, you can’t just go off on your own in New York City.” Prudence sounded concerned. “You’re a princess. You need security of some sort.”

“Which brings us back to calling in the Marines as you put it. Or one Marine in particular. So what do you think?”

Prudence paused for a moment before saying, “I think I’ve got just the Marine for the job.”

“I knew I could count on you. I have to get out of here, or I swear I’ll go crazy!” Vanessa’s voice was unsteady.

“You just stay put,” Prudence said firmly. “Help is on the way.”

Swaying with exhaustion, Vanessa headed straight for bed. She really didn’t feel well. Maybe it was the rubbery chicken served at tonight’s banquet dinner. Or the fact that she hadn’t eaten much in days. Her unhappiness with her life had grown to such monumental proportions that she couldn’t eat or sleep even when she had the time to, which wasn’t very often.

She left a trail of clothing as she aimed for her bed like a battered fighter headed for a safe corner in the boxing ring. Crawling under the covers, she instantly fell asleep plotting her escape.

She woke early the next morning just as the sun was rising. Her body was still beat, but her mind kept racing, preventing her from getting more rest. She needed to perfect her plan. How should she get an actor to pose as a doctor? She’d met George Clooney in Cannes at the film festival last year, maybe he’d be willing to do it for her. He’d sounded so doctorly on that TV show.

Sliding on her silk robe with the royal coat of arms on the breast pocket, she headed for the bathroom, still groggy after only a handful of hours’ sleep.

Opening the door, she was stunned to find U.S. Marine Captain Mark Wilder standing there waiting for her, wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt and looking incredibly dangerous and sexy. “You rang, Princess?” he drawled.

Mark couldn’t believe he was stuck baby-sitting his sister-in-law’s friend. So what if she was a princess?

He could have said no, he supposed. But Prudence had sounded so frantic and then his brother Joe had gotten on the line, and the next thing Mark knew, he’d agreed to fly up here to New York City to rescue Vanessa.

The ironic thing was that half an hour later he’d been ordered by his commanding officer to do the very same thing—to provide protection and security, among other things, for said princess. Without her knowledge of the true purpose of his mission.

While briefing him, his commanding officer had provided an entirely different picture of Princess Vanessa Alexandria Maria Teresa Von Volzemburg. Spoiled rich girl bored with her fancy life. She was driving her devoted father, who happened to be a valuable U.S. ally, crazy.

At the moment, Mark could see how she could easily drive a guy crazy. She looked great wearing a purple silk robe that showed plenty of cleavage. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing a bridesmaid dress at Prudence and Joe’s wedding nine months ago. He’d noticed her then. But she hadn’t seemed to notice him, going out of her way to be friendly to everyone else attending that wedding while totally ignoring him.

Her behavior had irked him, Mark was willing to admit that. When he’d first seen her, he’d immediately noted Vanessa’s resemblance to Grace Kelly—the same cool blond looks, same regal bearing. But Vanessa possessed exotically tilted eyes that flashed with green fire. And her lips weren’t classy, they were downright lush and full. She had the kind of mouth that made a guy think wicked thoughts and the kind of body that did the same.

She wasn’t model skinny. She definitely had curves. In all the right places. He liked that in a woman. He wasn’t so sure he liked it in a princess. Made her too damn tempting.

“What are you doing in my bathroom?” she demanded, her voice an expression of picture-perfect princess outrage. Even her bare toes, painted pink, were curled in a display of feminine affront.

Mark couldn’t believe he’d attended Marine Corps Officer Candidate School to end up here—playing bodyguard to a princess. The things he did for his family. And his country.

“You want me to leave?” He moved as if to depart.

She reached out a hand to halt him. “No, I…you just surprised me, that’s all.”

“Didn’t Prudence tell you I was coming?”

“She told me she had a Marine in mind, yes. I just didn’t expect you here so quickly. Or to find you in here.” She waved a hand around the elegantly designed bathroom. “How did you get in without my security guard seeing you?”

“I’m an officer in the United States Marine Corps. I’ve also trained with Force Recon, the Marines’ elite reconnaissance unit,” he informed her. “I know how to avoid detection, Princess.”

“I want you to treat me normally,” she told him, but in a princess-to-peon tone of voice that irked him no end. “You may call me Vanessa.”

“And you may call me Captain,” he retorted.

“I shall call you Mark,” she stated, ignoring his sarcastic comment. “How much did Prudence tell you?”

“That you had some harebrained idea about running loose in the Big Apple.”

“I sincerely doubt she worded it like that.”

Mark shrugged, drawing her attention to his broad shoulders. “The bottom line is the same.”

“You don’t sound very approving.”

“Like I said, I think it’s a harebrained idea.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I owe my brother a favor, and he asked me to help out.” That was one reason.

“Your brother is a kind man.” Her inference that Mark was not kind was clear.

“Yeah, Joe is a real peach,” Mark mockingly agreed. “So let me get this straight. You want to take a little time off from your day job of princessing to trip the light fantastic, is that it?”

“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. May we continue this conversation in the other room?” she requested, drawing the lapels of her robe more closely together. “I’m not accustomed to having a discussion in the bathroom.”

“I’d rather stay put for the time being.” He flipped the toilet seat down, and gestured for her to sit there. “It seems only right that the throne be yours.”

She frowned at him and then grinned. “You have a wicked sense of humor, Captain. I like that in a Marine.”

“And you have a wicked pair of legs, Vanessa. I like that in a princess.”

“I’m so relieved to hear it,” she noted wryly before elegantly sitting on the closed toilet seat as if it were indeed the intricately carved and jewel-encrusted royal throne of Volzemburg. “I certainly wouldn’t want to destroy any of your misguided preconceptions about princesses.”

“You’ve already done that by wanting to run away,” he told her. “How hard can this princess gig be?”

“Hard enough,” Vanessa replied in a tough voice coated with classy silk.

“Seems like it would be a cushy job to me,” Mark noted, perching on the edge of the marble tub. “I’ll bet a night in this place costs more than I make in a week, maybe even in a month.”

“You’re probably right. I don’t know about the cost. The royal accountants take care of that sort of thing,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“And what sort of thing are you looking for me to take care of?”

“Security,” she immediately replied. “Mine, to be more precise. I’ll pay you for your time, of course.”

“Don’t insult me,” he stated curtly.

She blinked at him. “I wasn’t trying to….”

“I’m doing this for Prudence.” And because he’d been ordered to. “I’m on leave and had some time.” He was supposed to be on leave, but it was cancelled when he’d gotten this assignment.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s no need to say anything. Now what’s your plan?”

Vanessa repeated it to him just as she had to Prudence, only with more precision and firmness so he wouldn’t think she hadn’t thought things through.

“Sounds pretty lame to me. You hire some actor to pretend to be a doctor, and afterward he goes on to sell his story to the National Tattler.” Noting the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness of her skin, he said, “I know a real doctor who’ll recommend that you stay in bed and rest. Suffering from exhaustion is the term most frequently used.”

“The Von Volzemburgs never suffer from exhaustion.” The silky steeliness had returned to her voice. “We fought off Alexander the Great to protect our country and have been ruling ever since.”

“That may be, but you don’t have to pour hot oil over the castle battlements to protect your country any longer.”

“No, now I just have to spend twenty hours a day going from reception to reception,” she said tartly.

Mark flashed her a mocking smile and showed no pity. “Like I said, a real tough life. Too much partying. Too little sleep. Dr. Rosenthal is your man. He’s seen it all before.”

“He’s never seen me before,” she stated with haughty regality. “What makes you think he’d be willing to call my father?”

“He’s a former Marine. Royalty doesn’t scare him.”

“Royalty doesn’t scare you either, does it,” she noted.

“You’ve got that right.”

“Does anything frighten you?”

“Like I said, I’m a U.S. Marine Corps officer. We don’t scare easily.”

“Do you scare at all?”

“Well, ma’am,” he drawled, “the idea of marriage and being committed to just one woman scares me.”

“Marriage scares me, too,” she surprised him by admitting.

“Since I’m not looking to marry you and you’re not looking to marry me, neither one of us has anything to worry about then.”

“Except getting caught,” she said.

“Marines don’t get caught. Now let’s get back to your plan.”

“Before we do that, I must insist that you come up with another diagnosis. My father will simply not accept that I’m suffering from exhaustion. That is not a suitable excuse to avoid returning home. No, the diagnosis must have something to do with my ears.”

His gaze automatically traveled across her high cheekbones to her ears. They were dainty and feminine, and she wore an earring in each lobe. No cubic zirconias for this princess. No, those rocks were diamonds. “Are you supposed to sleep with those things in your ears?”

She touched her earlobe self-consciously. “I was too tired to do more than remove my clothing last night.”

Which meant what? That she was naked beneath that silky purple robe?

Years of training allowed Mark to keep an impassive look on his face, but inside he was responding to her proximity like a male, not a Marine.

“Would your Dr. Rosenthal be willing to tell my father I can’t fly because I have a cold-flu thing?” she asked. “Remember it has to involve my ears so that I wouldn’t be able to fly for several days.”

“Right. I’m sure the good doctor will say whatever is required.”

“He won’t have ethical problems with that?”

Mark wasn’t about to go into Dr. Rosenthal’s reasons for going along with this plan. “He’s a friend. I already told you, he’ll do as we ask. Let’s move on. Where do you plan on sleeping at night?” he asked.

That was one question she hadn’t yet considered. “Here, I suppose,” she replied.

“Here in your suite?” He shook his head. “Not a good idea. You’d be going past your own security guard every night. Eventually you’d get caught.”

“Fine. Then I’ll sleep elsewhere. There are plenty of hotel rooms available in this city.”

“Not that I can afford.”

“I shall, of course, pay for all expenses,” she loftily informed him.

“With what?” he demanded, pinning her with his saberlike gaze. “You think you’re not going to draw attention to yourself by using your platinum princess credit card? Or did you plan on having your accountants come trailing after you to pay for things?”

“All right.” She shot him an irritated look. “So I haven’t exactly worked out all the details yet.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I have. But before we go any further, Princess, we need to get a few things clear. First off, I’m in charge of this op.”

“Op?” she repeated with a lift of one of her delicately shaped eyebrows.

“Operation.”

“Ah, a military rather than medical term, I’m assuming?” she noted mockingly.

“Affirmative. I’ve had more experience at this sort of thing than you have.”

“At pretending to be a regular person?”

“At pretending to be something I’m not,” Mark replied, very well aware of the fact that if Princess Vanessa Alexandria Maria Teresa Von Volzemburg knew the real reason he was here, she’d toss him out on his ear. It was his job to make sure she didn’t find out.