Читать книгу Matched to a Prince - Kat Cantrell - Страница 8

One

When the sun hit the three-quarter mark in the western sky, Finn aimed the helicopter for shore. It was nearing the end of his shift and, as always, he couldn’t resist dipping low enough to let the powerful downdraft ripple the Mediterranean’s deep blue surface.

A heron swooped up and away from the turbulence as fast as its wings could carry it, gliding along the air currents with sheer poetic grace. Finn would never get tired of the view from his cockpit, never grow weary of protecting the shoreline of the small country he called home.

Once he’d touched down on the X marking the spot for his helicopter, Finn cut power to the rotor and vaulted from the cockpit before the Dauphin blades had come to a full stop. His father’s solemn-faced driver stood on the tarmac a short distance away and Finn didn’t need any further clues to recognize a royal summons.

“Come to critique my landing, James?” Finn asked with a grin. Not likely. No one flew helicopters with more precision and grace than he did.

“Prince Alain.” James inclined his head in deference, then delivered his message. “Your father wishes to speak with you. I’m to drive.”

Checking his eye roll over James’s insistence on formality, Finn nodded. “Do I have time to change?”

It wouldn’t be the first time Finn had appeared before the king in his Delamer Coast Guard uniform, but he’d been in it for ten hours and the legs were still damp from a meet-up with the Mediterranean while rescuing a swimmer who’d misjudged the distance to shore.

Every day Finn protected his father’s people while flying over a breathtaking panorama of sparkling sea, distant mountains and the rocky islands just offshore. He loved his job, and spending a few hours encased in wet cloth was a small price to pay.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to pay that price while on the receiving end of a royal lecture.

James motioned to the car. “I think it would be best if you came immediately.”

The summons wasn’t unexpected. It was either about a certain photograph portraying Finn doing Jägermeister shots off a gorgeous blonde’s bare stomach or about the corruption charges recently brought up against a couple of his running buddies.

A blogger had once joked that Finn’s official title should be Prince Alain Phineas of Montagne, House of Scandal. It wasn’t so funny to the king, who had tried to combat the negative press with a royal announcement proclaiming Finn’s upcoming marriage. A desperate ploy to get his son to settle down.

Hadn’t worked so far. Perhaps if his father could actually name a bride, the ploy might get some traction.

Finn paused. Maybe his father had picked someone. He hoped not. The longer he could put off the inevitable, the better.

But his life was never his own and whatever his father wanted, Finn would deal with it, like always.

Only one way to find out if he’d be announcing the name of his bride soon.

Finn allowed James to show him into the backseat of the town car his father used to fetch people and tried to swallow his dread. The Delamer Coast Guard administrative building disappeared behind them and Finn’s homeland unrolled through the windows.

Tourist season had officially started. Bright vendor booths lined the waterfront, selling everything from outrageously priced sunscreen to caricatures quickly drawn by sidewalk artists. Hand-holding couples wandered along the boardwalk and young mothers pushed strollers in the treed park across from the public beach.

There wasn’t a more beautiful place on earth, and Finn thanked God every day for the privilege of not only living here but the opportunity to serve its people. It was his duty, and he did it gladly.

Too soon, the car drove through the majestic wrought iron gates of the palace where Finn had grown up, and then moved out of as soon as his mother would allow it. He’d realized early on he was just in the way. The palace was the home of the king and queen, and eventually would house the crown prince and princess, Alexander and his wife, Portia.

Finn was so far down the line of succession, he couldn’t even see the head. It didn’t bother him. Most days.

A slew of workers scurried about the hundred acres of property surrounding the stately drive. Each employee focused on maintaining the famous four-tiered landscaping that ringed the central fountain bearing a statue of King Etienne the First, who had led Delamer’s secession from France two centuries ago.

Another solemn-faced servant led Finn to the office his father used for nonstate business. That was a relief. There’d be no formality then, and Finn could do without royal addresses and protocol any day.

When Finn entered, the king glanced up from paperwork strewn across his four-hundred-year-old desk, which had been a gift from a former president of the United States. Finn preferred gifts you could drink, especially if they came with a cork.

With a small smile, his father pushed his chair back and stood, gesturing to the brocade couch. “Thanks for coming, son. Apologies for the short notice.”

“No problem. I didn’t have any plans. What’s up?”

Since he didn’t mistake his father’s gesture for a suggestion, Finn perched on the fancy couch at a right angle to the desk.

King Laurent crossed his arms and leaned on the edge of his desk, facing Finn. “We need to move forward with finding you a wife.”

Called it in one.

Finn shifted against the stiff couch cushions, determined to find a comfortable spot. “I said I’d be happy with whomever you picked.”

A lie. He’d tolerate whomever his father picked.

If Finn and his bride ended up friends as his parents had, great. But it was a lot to ask in an arranged marriage. It wasn’t as though Finn could hold out for love, not when it hadn’t worked out the one and only time he’d allowed himself to care about a woman.

Juliet’s face, framed by her silky light brown hair, swam into his mind’s eye and he swallowed. A hundred blondes with a hundred shot glasses couldn’t erase the memory of the woman who’d betrayed him in the most public and humiliating way possible. He knew. He’d tried.

“Be that as it may,” the king said, “an option I hadn’t considered has come to my attention. A matchmaker.”

“A what?”

“An American matchmaker contacted me through my secretary. She asked for a chance to earn our business by doing a trial match. If you don’t like the results, she won’t charge us.”

Finn smelled something fishy, and if there was anything he knew after spending the majority of his day in or near the sea, it was fish. “I’m reasonably certain we can afford her fee regardless. Why would you consider this?”

Was this another ploy to get him under his father’s thumb? Had the king paid this matchmaker to orchestrate a match with a woman loyal to the crown, who could be easily controlled?

“This matchmaker introduced Stafford Walker to his wife. I’ve done enough business with him to know his recommendation is solid. If the woman hadn’t mentioned his name, I wouldn’t have given her idea a moment’s consideration.” His father sighed and rubbed the spot between his eyes wearily. “Son, I want you to be happy. I liked what she had to say about her selection process. You need someone specific, who will negate all the bad press. She promises to match you with the perfect woman to become your princess. It seemed like a fair deal.”

Guilt relaxed Finn’s rigid shoulders. “I’m sorry. You’ve been more than patient with me. I wish...”

He’d been about to say he wished he knew why he courted so much trouble. But the reason wasn’t a mystery. She had eyes the color of fresh grass, glowing skin and a stubborn streak wider than the palace gates.

Perhaps this matchmaker might find someone who could replace Juliet in his heart. It could happen.

“I’ve had this matchmaker, Elise Arundel, thoroughly checked out, but do your own research. If you don’t like the idea, don’t do it. But I’ve had little luck coming up with a potential bride on my own.” The king smiled, looking like his usual cheerful self for the first time since Finn had entered the room. “There’s no shortage of candidates. Just the lack of one who can handle you.”

Finn grinned back. “At least we agree on that.”

Because Finn took after his father. They both had big hearts and even bigger personalities. And the absolute sense of duty that came part and parcel with being royalty. They shared a love for Delamer and a love for the people they served.

His father managed to do it with grace and propriety. Finn, on the other hand, tended to whoop it up, and photographers loved to capture it. Of course, a photo could never depict the broken heart that drove him to search for a method, any method, to erase the pain.

He got all that and didn’t mind the idea of getting married, especially to save himself from a downward media spiral. Finding a woman he could love at the same time was an attractive bonus. Settling down and having babies appealed to him if he could do it with someone who gave him what he desperately wanted—a sheltered place all his own where he could be a man and not a prince, if only for a few hours.

The odds of a matchmaker pulling a name out of thin air who could do that...well, he’d do better betting a thousand on red and letting it ride.

“I’ll talk to Ms. Arundel.” Finn owed it to his father to figure out a way to stop causing him grief, and he owed it to his country to portray the House of Couronne positively in the international press. If it meant marrying the matchmaker’s choice and making the best of it, so be it.

Relief filled the king’s eyes and a double dose of guilt swam through Finn’s stomach. His father loved him and wanted the best for him. Why couldn’t Finn do the right thing as his brother always did? Alexander would be king one day and constantly kept that forefront in his mind. His behavior was above reproach and he never caused their parents a moment’s worry.

Finn, on the other hand, was the spare heir. Unnecessary. The Party Prince.

An advantageous marriage was a chance for Finn to do something right for once, something of value to the crown. He’d hoped to keep putting it off. But clearly his father was having none of that.

“She’d like you to fly to Dallas, Texas, to meet in person,” the king said. “As soon as possible.”

Dallas. He’d never been there. Maybe he could pick up an authentic cowboy hat if nothing else.

Mentally, Finn rearranged his calendar for the weekend. He’d committed to attending a couple of charity fund-raisers and had planned to hit a new club in Saint Tropez Saturday night. Looked as if he’d be skipping all of it.

“I’ve got a shift tomorrow, but I can go the day after.”

His father put a gentle hand on Finn’s shoulder. “I think it’s a good choice.”

Ducking his head, Finn shrugged. “We’ll see. What’s the worst that can happen?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Scandal followed him like a mongrel dog he’d fed once and couldn’t get rid of. Juliet’s betrayal had been the first scandal but certainly not the last. It had just hurt the most.

And that was the kicker. She’d hurt him so badly because he’d loved her so much, only to find she didn’t feel the same way. If she had loved him, she’d never have participated in a protest against everything he held dear—his father, the military, the very fabric of the governing structure that he’d sworn allegiance to.

The irony. Two things he’d loved about Juliet were her passion and commitment to her family. Without them, she’d be uninteresting and lackluster. Without them, the protest wouldn’t have happened.

It didn’t matter. She’d killed all his feelings for her. Except the anger. That, he still had plenty of.

Grimly, he bid his father goodbye and let James drive him back to his Aventador still parked at the coast guard headquarters. His entire life could be summed up in one phrase—dual-edged sword. No matter which way it was wielded, he’d be cut. He would be a man and a prince until the day he died, and it seemed fated that he could never satisfy both sides simultaneously.

Yet he held on to a slim thread of hope this matchmaker might change things for him.

* * *

Juliet Villere did not understand the American fascination with small talk. It was boring.

The packed ballroom wasn’t her preferred scene anyway, but coupled with a strong desire to avoid one more conversation about the ridiculous game confused Americans called football, the wall had become her friend. It warmed her bare back nicely and provided a great shield from the eyes she’d felt burning into her exposed flesh.

Why hadn’t someone told her that a makeover didn’t magically transform your insides? All the makeup and fancy clothes in the world couldn’t convert Juliet into someone who liked lipstick. Or parties.

But she owed Elise Arundel and her matchmaking-slash-makeover services a huge debt for taking her in when she’d fled Delamer in search of some magic to heal the continual pain of Finn’s betrayal. That was the only reason she’d agreed to attend this glittery event full of Elise’s clients.

Maybe Elise wouldn’t notice if Juliet ducked out the side entrance and walked back to the matchmaker’s house in the Dallas district called Uptown, where Juliet was staying until Elise found her an American husband. It was only a couple of miles, and she’d practiced walking in these horribly uncomfortable heels enough times that her leg muscles were used to the strain.

Then she caught sight of Elise heading in Juliet’s direction, a determined look on her mentor’s face.

Too late.

“Having a good time?” Elise asked, her dark page boy swinging in time to the upbeat song floating above the crowd.

“Fantastic.”

The sarcasm clearly wasn’t lost on Elise, who smiled. “It’s good for you to be in social settings, dressed to kill. I invited you to this mixer so you could practice mingling. Hugging the wall won’t accomplish that.”

The reminder tightened Juliet’s stomach, and she resituated the waistline of the form-fitting green dress her new friend Dannie Reynolds had helped select.

“I have nothing good to say about football.” One thing was clear—the American husband she’d asked Elise to match her with would watch it. Therefore, Juliet would likely become well versed in the fine art of faking interest. “So I’m acquainting myself with the benefits of solitude.”

Elise laughed. “Dance with someone. Then you don’t have to talk.”

Juliet shook her head. She’d never danced with anyone other than Finn, and she didn’t want to break that streak tonight.

Finn.

Pain, sharp and swift, cramped her stomach. Crossing the Atlantic hadn’t dimmed his hold over her one bit.

He’d shredded her soul over a year ago. Shouldn’t she be finished healing by now? She wanted desperately to get to that place where he was just some guy she used to date, one she recalled fondly yet distantly.

But the announcement of his upcoming engagement had cut deeply enough to drive her from Delamer all the way to Dallas, Texas. Thank God she’d stumbled over that EA International ad in the back of a fashion magazine she’d thumbed through at the dentist’s office back home—it had given her a place to go.

“I don’t see the point in dancing with one of these guys.”

As she didn’t see the point in having fake nails or painted lips. But it wasn’t her place to argue with the formula Elise used in her matchmaking service.

“None of them will be my match,” she continued. “And besides, they’ve all got sports on the brain. Does scoring more points feed hungry children? Right any wrongs? No. It’s stupid.”

Juliet started to make a face and remembered she couldn’t do that anymore. Actually, she wasn’t supposed to be so outspoken either. Her American husband would want a refined wife with the ability to mingle with the upper crust. Not a woman who had little use for propriety and fluff. Or the Dallas Cowboys.

How in the world was she going to pretend that much for the rest of her life?

The same way she was going to pretend her heart hadn’t broken when she’d lost the man she’d loved, her sweet little brother and her life in Delamer.

Anything was manageable if it matched her with a husband who could keep her in the States, and save her from having to watch Finn marry someone else.

With a laugh, Elise shook her head. “No, no. Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel. How about if I save you from further suspense and tell you I have your match?”

Juliet’s heart stuttered to a stop. This was it. The reason she’d come to America.

What would her future husband be like? Did he enjoy swimming and sailing and could she ask him to take her on trips to the beach? Would he be okay with her family coming to visit occasionally? Did he have a nice smile and laugh a lot?

Most important, would she be able to develop feelings for him that would fill the Finn-shaped hole inside?

Even though Elise guaranteed a love match, replacing Finn was probably too much to hope for.

Contentment would be enough. It had to be.

She swallowed the sudden burn in her throat. “That didn’t take long. I only finished your questions yesterday.”

Shrugging, Elise turned to face the ballroom, her shoulder bumping Juliet’s companionably. “Sometimes when I load the profile, I don’t get a match against someone already in the system and then we have to wait until new clients are entered. Yours came back immediately.”

Juliet wanted to ask for the name. And at the same time, she wanted to dive under the buffet table.

What was she doing here? This man in Elise’s system expected a certain kind of woman, one who could host his parties and mingle with his friends, smiling through boring stories of business mergers and tax breaks. And football. That was so not her.

She wanted to go home.

Then she thought about living in Delamer day in and day out and how often she saw Finn’s helicopter beating through the broad blue sky. Or how she’d stumbled over another photograph of him cutting the ribbon at the new primary school—that picture would never die.

A little girl who would attend the school had sneaked up and wrapped her arms around his thigh just before he cut the ribbon. Finn leaned down to kiss her cheek and presto. Instant immortalization via the hundreds of camera phones and paparazzi lenses in the audience.

The pictorial reminder of the prince’s sweet and charming nature stabbed her in the stomach every time. He was such a good guy, with a sense of honor she’d once loved—until realizing it was a front for his stubborn refusal to see how much he’d hurt her by taking his father’s side. There was no reasoning with Finn, and that trumped all his good qualities.

In Delamer, there were constant reminders of the void her brother Bernard’s death had created.

Any husband was better than that.

“What happens if I don’t like the man your computer picked?” Juliet asked, though surely Elise’s system had captured her exact specifications.

“There are no absolutes. If you don’t like him, we’ll find someone else, though it might take a while. However...” Elise hesitated. “I’d like you to keep an open mind about the possibilities. This man is perfect for you. I’ve never seen two more compatible people. Not even Leo and Dannie were this closely aligned, and look how well that turned out.”

Juliet nodded. Dannie and Leo Reynolds were definitely one of the most in-love couples in the history of time and had never even met each other before they signed on with EA International and got married. If Elise said this man was Juliet’s perfect match, why doubt it?

“I had an ulterior motive for inviting you to the party tonight,” Elise confessed. “Your match will be here too. Soon. I thought it would take some pressure off if you met socially.”

Her match. Already.

Juliet had hoped for some time to learn more about him before being thrown at his feet. She touched her pinned-up hair. At least she’d meet her future husband while looking the absolute best she could, a small victory in her mind.

Deep breath. Bernard would want her to be happy, to move on. The memory of her brother’s smile bolstered her.

A disturbance in the crowd caught Juliet’s attention. People craned their necks to peer over each other, whispering and nodding toward the ballroom entrance.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Elise uttered a very unladylike word.

“I was hoping for a little more time to explain. It’s your match.” Elise cleared her throat. “He’s early. I think that’s a good quality in a man. I mean, along with all of his other ones. Don’t you think so?”

Her future husband, assuming everything went according to plan, had just walked into the ballroom.

Juliet’s pulse took off, throbbing below her ears. “Sure. But why does it sound like you’re trying to talk me into it? Does he have two heads or something?”

“I did something a little unorthodox to find your match.” Elise bit her lip and put her hand on Juliet’s arm. “Something I hope you’ll appreciate. It was a test. I figured if the computer didn’t match you, I wouldn’t say anything. I’d never tell you and I’d find someone else for you both.”

“What are you talking about? What did you do?”

Elise smiled weakly as the crowd pressed closer to the entrance, blocking their view of whoever had drawn so much interest. “You talked so much about him. I heard what was still in your heart. I couldn’t call myself a matchmaker if I didn’t give you an opportunity to rediscover why you fell in love in the first place.”

The first wave of unease rolled through Juliet’s stomach. “Talked about whom?”

“Prince Alain. Finn.” Elise nodded toward the crush surrounding the entrance. “He’s your match.”

“Oh, my God. Elise!” Juliet wrapped her arms around her waist but couldn’t stop the flood inside of...everything. Hope. Disbelief. The unquenchable anger at his inability to side with her. “You contacted Finn? And didn’t tell me? Oh, my God.”

Finn was here. In the ballroom.

He was her match.

Not a quiet American businessman who watched football and would save her from the heartache Finn had caused.

“Open mind,” Elise reminded her and grasped Juliet’s hand to propel her forward, parting the crowd easily despite being half a head shorter than everyone else. “Come say hello. Give me ten minutes. Let me explain to you both what I did and then you can blast me for my tactics. Or spend a little while reacquainting yourselves. Maybe give it a chance. It’s your choice.”

Greedily, Juliet’s gaze swept the crowd, searching for a familiar face. And found a solid figure in black tie, flanked by a discreet security team, moving toward her.

Finn. Exactly as her heart remembered him.

Tall, gorgeous, self-assured. Every bit a man who could support the weight of a crown despite the probability that he never would. Hard, defined muscles lay under a tuxedo that did little to disguise the beauty of the man’s body. His short, dark hair that had a tendency to curl when he let it grow was the same. As was the winsome smile.

Until he paused in front of Elise and caught sight of Juliet. The smile slipped a touch as his gaze cut between the two women. “Ms. Arundel. It’s nice to see you again.”

Finn extended his hand and took Elise’s, drawing her forward to buss her cheek as if they were old friends. To Juliet, he simply said, “Ms. Villere. What a pleasant surprise. I wasn’t aware you were on this side of the world.”

In spite of the frost in his tone, his voice flipped her stomach, as it always had. More so because it had been so long since she’d heard someone speak with the cadence intrinsic to people from Delamer.

“The surprise is mutual,” she assured him, shocked her throat hadn’t gone the way of her lungs, which seemed to be broken. She couldn’t breathe. The ballroom’s walls contracted, stealing what air remained in the room. “Though I’m reserving judgment on whether it’s pleasant.”

Stupid mouth had gotten away from her again. The laser-sharp eyes of the crowd branded her back and she became aware of exactly how many people were witnessing this public meeting between Prince Alain and a woman they no doubt vaguely recognized. Wouldn’t take long to do an internet search and find videos, pictures and news reports of the scandal. It had garnered a ton of press.

His expression darkened. “Be sure to inform me when you decide. If you’ll excuse me, I have business with Ms. Arundel which is not of your concern.”

Finn was in rare His-Royal-Highness mode. She hated it when he got that way.

“Actually,” Elise corrected with a nervous laugh and held a palm out, “Juliet is your match.”