Читать книгу The Making of a Princess - Teresa Carpenter - Страница 10

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

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

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

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

And she was having a really good time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And they lost their child.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How have your grandparents taken your departure?”

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

“A prestigious position, I’m sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spoilsport.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had her ensnared, captivated. Wanting more.

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

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

“Well, good night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man intended to do just that.