Читать книгу Counterfeit Princess - Raye Morgan - Страница 10

“So you arrived tonight with a skeptical opinion of me?” Shannon asked, her firm tone masking her wobbly confidence. “And just where did you form it? We haven’t seen each other for ten years.” Or so she’d been told in the short lecture on facts Greta had given her just hours before.

“Over ten years,” Marco agreed. “The last time I saw you I believe was the night we danced at your debutante ball when you were sixteen.”

“Really?” Oh-oh. Now she’d done it. This was her worst fear, that he would bring up the past, a past she knew absolutely nothing about.

“You don’t remember?”

She shook her head quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’ve got amnesia for anything that happened before I turned twenty-one.” Hah! A master stroke, if she did say so herself.

“Oh really?” His dark eyebrow rose in surprise. He made no effort to pretend to believe her. “Damned convenient, isn’t it?”

She gave him a superior look. That was her story and she was sticking to it. But she felt a prickly sense of irritation that he seemed so ready to think the worst of her. She wanted to react to his dry tone with a sharp retort, but she stopped herself in time. She had to remember what was going on here. This was not a real relationship with a real man. This was playacting.

And she wasn’t supposed to be involved in it, darn it all! She had to watch what she said and hope to get out of this without being unmasked. Looking into his eyes, she searched for evidence that he had suspicions about her. But all she saw were shadows hiding any emotion he might be feeling. If he did feel anything at all. Which she was beginning to doubt.

The trouble was, she did feel things. Sometimes she seemed to be a fountain of feeling, spilling out all over the place. Instinct told her she was already beginning to feel a very inappropriate list of things about this man. And wouldn’t that just land her in a pickle if she didn’t watch it? Not only was he a prince, while she was a phony, paid by the hour, but his hard jaw and ice-cold gaze told her he wouldn’t melt for a mere woman. Not on a bet.

“Amnesia runs in my family,” she told him airily, deciding nonsense was better than trying to stick to facts. “We all get it sooner or later.”

He nodded, looking slightly bored. “I understand,” he said. “The truth is often difficult to face.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. Was he baiting her? “And you think you know the truth about me?” she asked slowly.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I seem to know more of it than you do. You have amnesia. Remember?”

She bit her lip. Score one for the arrogant prince. Now she was really annoyed, but that was certainly less dangerous than swooning.

“What I remember most about our last meeting was, actually, the dancing,” he went on. “You dance much better now than you did then. As I recall, your spike heels gouged holes in my feet that didn’t heal for weeks.”

“I’m so sorry,” she told him unconvincingly. And then she couldn’t resist a quick follow-up. “But I think you’d have to admit, at least a part of the credit goes to now having a partner who has finally learned how to lead.”

He gazed at her questioningly. “I thought you didn’t remember anything from the past.”

She waved a hand in the air. “I don’t. I’m just extrapolating from current evidence.”

“Oh, I see.” His face finally registered the fact that she was purposely trying to get his goat. “So you find my dancing just barely adequate at this point?”

She smiled, glad to know he was feeling her jabs at last but still not sure if he was taking them with humor or annoyance. “I didn’t say that at all.”

His blue eyes glittered. “No, but you certainly implied it.”

“Assumptions are risky things.”

“I guess I lead a dangerous life, then.” His eyebrow quirked. “Speaking of which…”

She could tell by his tone that he was leading into something she wasn’t going to like and she steeled herself.

“I hear you’ve been leading quite an interesting life since I saw you last. Perhaps you might find time at some future date to fill me in on the particulars of anything I might need to know.”

She saw right through him. What was he angling for, an abject apology from the princess that she’d been around the block a few times? Despite the gossip she’d heard about Iliana, and the things she knew about her as well, she felt an impulse to defend her. But she held it back. After all, she wasn’t here to build foundations for their future relationship. She was just here to smile and get through the evening without creating a disaster.

“A gentleman doesn’t ask a lady things about her past,” she said evasively, her glance into his eyes just short of a glare.

His dark eyebrow rose again. “In my experience, that rule only applies when the past is somewhat shady.”

“Shady!”

“Well, cloudy at the very least.”

“Really?” Anger could easily turn to fury if she didn’t watch it. She choked back her impulse to go on the attack for a moment, but then couldn’t resist one quick comment. “I suppose your past is pure as the driven snow.”

“My past is irrelevant,” he said, looking infuriatingly superior. “But your reaction tells me all I need to know about yours.”

“Oh really?” The man was insufferable! “A lot you know. Give me one example of something ‘cloudy’ in the prin…in my past.” She knew the moment the words were on her lips that she was courting disaster but she couldn’t stand the way he was lording it over her.

“You wouldn’t like me to do that.”

“You’re bluffing,” she challenged hotly, and dancing was forgotten as she stood glaring at him, chin out, hands on her hips. “You don’t have one.”

He gave her a long-suffering look. “Your Highness, I hardly think this is the time or the place for this sort of display.”

“There.” She tossed her head. “I knew you didn’t really have one.”

His cold gaze settled on her in a way that made her want to take a step backward, but she forced herself to hold her position.

“All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll tell you of one. Although, as you have reminded me, it is very impolite for a gentleman to do so.”

“Have at it.”

Taking her arm and forcing a smile in the direction of a person he recognized, he led her quickly away from the crowd and out onto a balcony where they could have at least the semblance of privacy. Once alone, she swung around to face him, and he began his reminiscence.

“The time I’m thinking of was when you must have been about fourteen. All our families were congregated at that resort in the south of France. I was in a sailing race when I found you, barely dressed in a thong bikini you must have stolen from some street-walker, stowed away in my Laser. Of course, you ruined my chances in the race, and when I put you ashore, you told everyone who would listen that I’d kidnapped you.”

She winced inside, but would have died rather than show it. Princess Iliana did seem to have a penchant for inappropriate behavior. Her own inclination would have been to apologize, but she had to think what the real princess would say to having her adolescent idiocies thrown in her face. So she faced him with defiance.

“Did I also tell them you had no sense of humor?” She shrugged grandly, turning to look out over the city street below where traffic was strung out like diamonds on a chain. “Anyway, you made that up. I wouldn’t ever have done such a thing.” And that was true on a personal level.

“It was you or someone who looks a lot like you,” he said, and her eyes widened, wondering for a second or two if he was wise to her. But he went on, adding, “I’ve thought of a lot more instances, now that you’ve brought them to mind. Would you like to hear another?”

She waved a hand in the air, dismissing his suggestion. “Unnecessary. I think I’ve got the general trend of the way your mind works.”

“So you do concede my point.”

“I don’t concede anything.”

“That’s illogical. You’ve basically conceded.”

“No I haven’t.” She turned to go back into the ballroom. “But I’m through talking about it.”

He put an arm out, hand against the wall, blocking her passage. “Concede,” he demanded, his arrogance on proud display.

She stared up at him, aware once again of his wide shoulders and strong jaw. This was exactly the sort of man she had dreamed of in her adolescence, the sort of man who might grab a girl and throw her over his shoulder…. She shivered. What a ridiculous thought. She was adolescent no longer and she didn’t dream of macho men. They were passe, old hat, from another time. The ideal man should respect a woman and treat her just the way he would a casual friend. The prince was out of line as far as she was concerned.

She glared at him. “You can’t make me. You’re not a king yet, you know.”

“No,” he agreed, his eyes narrowing. “But I’m sure to become one. And whether or not you become a queen is still up in the air, isn’t it?”

She gasped. Turning back toward the balcony railing, she began to stroll, forcing him to follow her. “I don’t know why you want to marry me if you really can’t stand me.”

He looked stunned that she would come right out and say it. “I never said any such thing.”

“Your body language says it loud and clear.”

“Then you are misreading my body.”

Their gazes clashed, held for a long moment as they both digested the words he’d just spoken. Shannon felt heat flood her face, infuriating her even further. She quickly looked away. But they didn’t resume walking, and in a few seconds, their eyes met again, as though it was impossible for them to keep from doing it.

“I just want you to know,” Marco added roughly, “that I wouldn’t marry any woman that I couldn’t stand.”

She nodded crisply. “So the wedding is off?” she said, coolly searching his gaze.

He stared down at her as though she’d said something too outlandish to deal with, and suddenly Freddy was there, obsequiously inserting himself into the conversation. Shannon didn’t actually hear what he was saying. She was still staring into Marco’s gaze, wondering how she could be so angry with someone she found so attractive. But a moment later, she was leaving the balcony on Freddy’s arm, forcing herself to resist the urge to look back at the crown prince.

“I am not marrying that man,” she said through gritted teeth once she was alone with Greta in the dressing room. She saw the look that passed over Greta’s face and she added quickly, “And if Princess Iliana is smart, she won’t either.”

Funny, but she hadn’t spent much time wondering about the real Iliana before. The woman had hardly seemed real to her anyway. This was just a job she was doing. But now she had to face the fact that she’d been saying things in Iliana’s name, things that might last and have repercussions, and that fact made everything very different.

She was pacing the floor in pent-up frustration and Greta was watching her as though she were witnessing a natural phenomenon that threatened disaster but couldn’t be controlled. She stopped in front of the woman.

“You know, I’m going to have to talk to the princess when she gets back, before she meets with the prince. I’m going to have to tell her some of the things I’ve said to him. That is, if you all care about a smooth transition.”

She frowned. She knew Greta and Freddy were adamant that the princess would marry Marco. Their king had decreed it should be so and they were supposed to be making sure all went well. The fact that Iliana wasn’t cooperating was still a secret to most people. Greta had assured her that Iliana would come through when the chips were down—but weren’t they pretty much on the table at this point? And where was she?

Shannon shook her head, appealing to the woman’s common sense. “I don’t see how this is going to work. Once he sees her, isn’t he going to know she isn’t me?”

Greta shrugged helplessly, looking miserable. “What can we do? He is leaving tomorrow and won’t be back for a few weeks. By then, maybe the impression you’ve made will fade. We will hope that he will attribute differences to her not having the makeup and not being dressed for a ball.” Her hand went to her throat, diamonds sparkling. “But her voice…her demeanor.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, he is bound to think something is different. But we didn’t have much choice, did we? We had to take the chance.”

Shannon hesitated as a thread of guilt began to slither through her. She knew that Greta and Freddy were both scared to death of their employer, the king of Alovitia. She wasn’t sure if they were just afraid for their jobs and position in the royal scheme of things, or if they actually feared for their own physical safety. And she was afraid that her own performance tonight wasn’t going to help things where they were concerned.

“You know, we had a dreadful fight,” she told the poor woman. “I said some things I probably shouldn’t have said.” She gave her a look of regret. “He may want to call the marriage off, I don’t know.”

Greta’s eyes widened and she grabbed Shannon’s arm. “What did you do? The king will have my head for this!”

Shannon swallowed hard and blinked back some misery of her own. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“You must go back and make up with him.” Greta thrust her hand toward the door, bracelets jangling. “Now. Hurry!”

Shannon shook her head. “Oh no, Greta. I can’t do that. If you’d seen the way he looked at me….”

“Looks? You think that looks can hurt you?” She slapped the flat of her hand down on the table, her eyes almost wild. “The king will have more than looks waiting for me, I can tell you that. Why do you think he sent us here? We were to make sure his daughter bent to his will. This wedding must come about. It is King Mandrake’s command that it be so.” She put her hands together as though in prayer. “Please. Shannon. You must go back and make it up. You don’t understand how important this is.”

Shannon sighed. “You don’t understand how hard it would be,” she said softly. But she glanced into the mirror and caught a wayward strand of hair, already preparing for what she knew she had to do.

Crown Prince Marco paced the thick carpets of his hotel room, fuming as he went back over the conversation with the princess in his mind. “I don’t know if we can believe those rumors, Jordan. Even gangsters have standards.”

“Sir?”

He stopped to look at his valet in exasperation. “She’s exactly the sort of woman I never could stand. Has to make a smart remark about everything you say.” He threw up a hand. “Of course, maybe a gangster is the only type who likes that sort of thing.”

“Indeed, sir.”

Turning away and then quickly turning back again, he looked his valet in the eye. “Tell me, really, where did you hear those things about her?”

Jordan shrugged. “One hears things, Your Royal Highness. The other servants talk.”

He nodded. “Well, I can’t say I hadn’t heard the rumors before myself. Lady Judith has told me much the same sort of gossip.”

Sinking into a chair at the small round table, he put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He hated this. If only Lorraine were still alive….

But she wasn’t, and he had to go on. Ruthlessly, he pushed the picture of her sweet face out of his mind. He didn’t have the time or the luxury to dwell on what might have been. He had a country to lead. Nabotavia needed a queen and needed King Mandrake’s help on their western border. Marrying Princess Iliana would give them both those things.

She certainly wasn’t his ideal. He couldn’t even conceive of living with her as husband and wife. But he didn’t imagine they would actually spend much time together, and he didn’t need any more children. The ones he had were being well brought up by their grandmother, Judith, Lorraine’s mother. A good stepmother for his children would have been nice, but one couldn’t have everything one wanted in life. Often, one barely got what one needed.

Did he really need this woman?

Not personally. He’d managed without female companionship for the last two years. He couldn’t claim that he’d done fine. He’d missed Lorraine every moment, ached for her. But in every other way, life had continued without much hassle. The children loved their grandmother. They still had the same nanny they had known since birth. As the crown prince, and soon as king, he had never been destined to be much of a hands-on father to them. That was something he regretted, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d spent a good part of the last year fighting to free Nabotavia, and he would spend the rest of his life fighting to maintain that freedom for his country. Whether or not he was married would make little difference there.

But his country needed a queen, and his alliance with Alovitia was supremely important. So yes, much as he hated to admit it, he needed this woman. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at Jordan, misery shining in his eyes.

“Why can’t my life be simple?” he asked him with a growl.

“Because you were born to a complex role, sir,” Jordan answered sensibly.

Marco nodded. “I’m afraid you’re right.” He grimaced and swore softly. “I know I can’t betray Mandrake after all he did to help me. If it hadn’t been for him, Nabotavia would not be free.”

“Quite true, sir.”

Marco frowned. He’d never given much thought to why King Mandrake might want so badly to have his daughter married to him. He’d always supposed it was to strengthen ties with Nabotavia. The bonds between the two countries were ancient and would always be there, but would be vastly strengthened by a marriage between the two ruling houses. But maybe there was more. After all, she was at least twenty-eight by now, though she looked younger. And still unmarried. Her father was probably having a hard time getting anyone suitable to take her.

“If I might make a suggestion, sir.”

He looked up hopefully. “Suggestions are welcomed, Jordan.”

“It is well said that King Mandrake does have a terrible temper.”

“A terrible temper. Yes indeed.” Marco laughed softly and ran his fingers through his hair. “You know, Jordan, I’m thinking of developing a terrible temper when I’m king. What do you think?”

“Such a thing can come in handy, sir. But about my thoughts on tonight’s subject.”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“I believe I mentioned the king’s temper. If he hears that you threw aside his daughter after ten minutes on the dance floor, he is liable to take it as an affront.”

“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right on that one. I can’t do it, much as I may be tempted.” His sigh came from deep in his heart.

“If you were to spend a few hours with the young lady, it is just possible that you may come to understand her better and even like her.”

Marco coughed skeptically. “I get your drift, Jordan. And I know you are quite right.” His spirit revived a bit. After all, if Jordan thought there was hope, there just might be at least a glimmer. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to give it another go.”

“If you feel it quite necessary, sir.”

He nodded solemnly. “I do, Jordan.” Turning toward the door, he squared his shoulders. “It is only fair to give the young woman another chance. Then, who knows?”

“Precisely, sir.”

The interesting thing was that Princess Iliana seemed to have much the same idea as Crown Prince Marco did and was waiting with her two attendants very near the dance floor. She had something of a reluctant look on her face, as though it had taken a lot of persuading to get her to come back and meet with him again, but he didn’t care. As long as she was available, he would do what he could to repair the damage of their earlier meeting, and hopefully, build a common relationship. If it was possible to make it a friendly collaboration, that would be best. But if he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her down the aisle, he’d do it. Bottom line, he was going to marry her.

He studied her as he came closer. She really was beautiful, with a rare luminous quality, as though she were lit with a warm light from within. For just a moment, he felt a slight pang of regret. If only she’d been a different sort of woman, he was sure something could have been worked out. But as she was, he could only hope for miracles.

He bowed and smiled and murmured a few pleasantries. She nodded and gave him a tight smile back, and as she came to join him on the dance floor, she glanced back at her attendants with a look he couldn’t read. Rebellion? Desperation? Threats of revenge? He wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter, just as long as she agreed to put in some time with him. For all he knew, she might be as determined as he was to make this work. That was to be hoped, of course. But if she was unwilling to commit to him voluntarily, she was going to have to be persuaded. The possibilities were endless.

Shannon accepted the prince’s arm as it came around her, leading her into the dance, and she felt her traitorous body begin to respond to him again. It just didn’t make any sense. She’d made up her mind that the man was abhorrent. Why couldn’t the rest of her system get the message?

Still, she’d promised Greta to do something to make amends, and she supposed it was only fair that she do so. After tonight she would never see the crown prince again, but Greta and Freddy—and most of all the real princess—would have to deal with him on a continuing basis. Time to smooth feathers.

She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to meet his. “I want to apologize for some of the things I said to you earlier. I’m afraid I got a little carried away.”

He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “That is very gracious of you, Princess,” he said.

She waited, holding his gaze with her own, trying not to notice the attractive deep grooves that had once housed dimples in his handsome face, and definitely ignoring the full lips.

“Well?” she said at last.

He looked into her face and it was obvious he knew she was waiting for him to reciprocate. Was that a spark of humor in his silver-blue eyes? Or a flicker of malice?

“Well what?” he asked innocently.

Her own eyes flashed sparks. “Aren’t you going to apologize to me?”

“Certainly. Once I’ve found something wrong with my behavior.”

She stopped the gasp that started up her throat and pressed her lips together. No, she wasn’t going to let him do this to her again. She swallowed hard, forcing back anger. “That’s all I ask,” she said as sweetly as she could.

“All right,” he said grudgingly, as though he’d decided he could at least give her this. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sure I said some things that would have been better left unsaid. So let’s start anew.”

She could tell that she wasn’t going to get anything better from him. Nodding slightly, she gave him a thin smile. “Agreed.”

“Good. That gives us an opportunity to discuss the situation we are in.”

“The situation?”

The situation. She hoped she knew enough about it for discussion. But once again, she would have to be careful she didn’t make any commitments for the princess. Keeping things general sounded like the best way to go. She glanced up at him, then looked away. She felt as though she were preparing for a pop quiz.

“Yes. The situation we both find ourselves in. I have no idea how you feel about it.”

She hesitated. “Why don’t you describe it to me the way you see it?” she said, stalling for time.

“It’s simple enough. I owe your father for his support, both in manpower and in political arm-twisting, in freeing Nabotavia from the radicals. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be going back.” He turned his brilliant gaze on her. “He asked in return that I marry his beloved daughter. And I promised him I’d do it.”

She studied his face, hoping to find one little kernel of human feeling somewhere in all that beautiful coolness. “That’s it?”

“Yes. What more do you need?” He shrugged. “You have to admit, it is rather awkward for both of us.”

She frowned, wanting to be sure she got this straight. “In other words, you don’t really want to marry the princess.”

He opened his mouth to answer, then frowned at the way she’d put that. “I have promised King Mandrake that I would offer his daughter my name and a place at my side in Nabotavia. And I mean to honor that promise.”

She nodded, reminding herself not to slip into the third person again. “I see. I think I get it. So even though you don’t really want to marry me, you’re bound and determined to do it to pay back King Mandrake.”

“No, you don’t really get it.” He looked pained. “That’s why we need to talk this over.”

She gave him a dubious look. “Yes, I can certainly see the need for some frank conversation.”

“Very good. The sooner the better.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Why don’t we find a more private area and…”

“Oh no.” She saw where this was going and she wasn’t going to go there. He wanted time alone while he probed her mind for her real reactions to marrying him? What a recipe for complete disaster.

He blinked, looking down at her in surprise, as though he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right. “No?”

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

She’d promised Greta she would repair the break and she felt she’d taken care of things on that score. Her obligations were fulfilled and she was going home. She sighed with relief as the dance came to an end. This time she wasn’t waiting for anyone to fetch her and she slipped out of Marco’s arms. Gathering a handful of skirt, she smiled at him.

“Thank you very much for a lovely evening. It’s been most interesting. And now, I’ll bid you good night.”

And she turned and sped away, knowing she was leaving a very perplexed royal behind, but not really caring a bit.

Shannon was out in front of the hotel only a few minutes later, waiting for the limousine that would take her back to real life. She was still tingling from her encounter with the crown prince. She hoped never to see him again but the memory of all that masculine elegance would be a treasured one for a long time. A young woman like her—a graduate art history student paying her way through college as a hostess in a Texas steak house—didn’t get too many opportunities to see royalty up close and personal.

“It’s been fun,” she murmured to herself, craning her neck to see if the limousine was coming, “but thank goodness it’s over.”

Greta and Freddy were lingering inside, saying goodbye to old friends and acquaintances, but Shannon was anxious to leave her semi-royal life behind. And somewhat nervous about getting away from the hotel before the prince showed up and tried to talk to her again.

A long, sleek limousine pulled up and a mournful-looking man stepped out, leaving the passenger side door open and indicating he’d done so for her convenience.

“If you please, Your Highness,” he said, making a sweeping movement with his arm and bowing in her direction.

“Thank you,” she said, bending to slip into the back seat, relieved that she was going to make her escape. Fussing with her long skirt, she didn’t notice that the back seat was already occupied until she’d set herself down in the corner and looked up. And then, her gaze meeting the calm demeanor of the crown prince, she gasped. “You!”

She’d barely got the word out when the door slammed shut and the driver of the limousine began to cruise toward the highway.

“Princess,” Marco said, bowing slightly from where he sat. “I’m honored that you have agreed to join me in a ride to see the lights of the city.”

She gaped at him, outraged. “I have done no such thing and you know it.”

His gaunt, shadowed face showed no reaction. “We need to talk.”

“You may need to talk. I need to get some sleep. Turn this thing around and take me back right now!”

His jaw tightened. “Iliana, be reasonable. We need to get some things settled between us.”

She looked at him helplessly. She was stuck and she knew it. And all for nothing. She couldn’t settle anything. She wasn’t in the position to make promises. Or even to tell simple truths. He was going to ask all sorts of things she couldn’t answer. Now what?

She made one last pathetic attempt to change his mind.

“I really can’t go with you. I have a headache. I need to get home. And anyway, Greta and Freddy won’t know what’s happened to me.” She looked back longingly toward the fading lights of the hotel where those two were still chatting with old friends.

“My man Jordan will stay behind and fill them in,” the crown prince said reassuringly. “I’ll make sure you get home in one piece.”

Home! That was another problem. She couldn’t let him drop her at the little house in the modest suburb where she actually lived. And if he took her out to the princess’s ranch, it would be daybreak before she made her way home again.

She turned to look at him, dismayed. He was certainly making her life difficult. Her chin came up and her eyes flashed. “I insist that you turn this car around and take me back,” she said, surprising herself with how imperious she sounded.

Her manner appeared to surprise him, too. He actually seemed to look at her for the first time and really see how upset she was.

“I’m sorry, Iliana,” he said quietly. “I can’t do that. We must talk and we don’t have much time. This has got to be settled right away.”

She stared at him and realized she was at a crossroads. She could throw a tantrum until he got so disgusted with her he dropped her on the closest street corner. Or she could tough it out, do what she could to avoid answering direct questions, and hope for the best. With a sigh, she opted for the latter.

“All right, Your Royal Highness,” she said, settling back into the plush cushions. “Since I’ve been shanghaied, I guess I might as well make the best of it. Let’s talk.”