Читать книгу The Princess's Proposal - Valerie Parv - Страница 11

In response to a direct tap on her dressing room door, Adrienne said, “Come in.”

It was her personal assistant, Cindy Cook. The leather-bound file she carried under her arm made an interesting contrast with her pale-blue ball gown. She bobbed a curtsy then stopped short. “You look wonderful, Your Highness.”

Cindy had worked for the princess since they graduated from university together, so she wasn’t given to flattery for its own sake. Adrienne felt pleased that her new gown had made such a strong impression.

It was a glorious emerald-green, the color being one reason Adrienne had fallen in love with it; the design was another. From the front it looked like a stylish sheath that outlined her slender curves before fanning into a miniature train at her feet.

The back was a different matter. Cut almost to the waist, the dress was supported by a web of shoestring straps crisscrossing her bare back. With her glossy black hair swirled into a mass of curls high on her head and set off by an emerald tiara, she looked every inch the royal princess, she knew. Her alter ego, Dee, was nowhere to be seen.

“You don’t think it’s too daring for a charity affair?” she asked Cindy.

“The photographers will love it.”

As an answer it was a clever evasion, Adrienne recognized. It probably was overly daring but it was too late for her to change now. In any case, she was in the mood to cause a stir tonight and wondered if it was an aftereffect of her bad experience at the show. She hadn’t told Cindy about the cowboy or the man who had come to her rescue, telling herself no lasting harm had been done. But had it? She felt so fragile that she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t even report the incident to anyone without revealing that she had gone out incognito.

“The dress is by an Australian designer, Aloys Gada. Allie recommended him,” she told Cindy.

Allie, or more precisely Her Highness, Princess Alison, was Lorne’s Australian wife. With her egalitarian ideals, she was like a breath of fresh air in the royal family. So was Caroline, the American woman Michel had married, Adrienne thought, smiling to herself as she recalled how Michel had been betrothed to Caroline’s twin sister in an ancient ceremony when they were children. They hadn’t expected to be held to the contract when they grew up, and it was Caroline that Michel really loved. But it had worked out well in the end, when Caroline’s twin schemed to get them back together. Like Lorne and Allie, Caroline and Michel were blissfully happy, and Adrienne couldn’t wait to become an aunt to their child in a few months’ time.

“What are you thinking about? I’ll bet it isn’t tonight’s affair,” Cindy guessed, watching her royal employer.

Adrienne drew herself back to the present. For a moment she had let herself fantasize about being happily married like her brothers, with a husband to admire her appearance instead of a paid assistant. Cindy was supportive, but it wasn’t the same, somehow. “I was thinking of someone I met today,” she confessed.

The cowboy she dismissed as being of no consequence, a drunk who didn’t know any better. The American was another matter. He haunted her thoughts in a way that disturbed her for some reason.

Cindy’s face dimpled into a smile. “A man?”

“They do comprise half of the universe.”

“Not this universe.”

In spite of herself, Adrienne sighed, knowing Cindy was right. Before her assistant could ask about the man occupying her thoughts, Adrienne said, “We’d better get down to business. Who are the important names on the guest list tonight?”

Opening her file, Cindy reeled off a list of mostly elderly local nobles. Adrienne nodded. “No surprises there.” Since tonight’s gala was in recognition of donations to the children’s charity she chaired, the princess knew most of the major benefactors already. It promised to be a dull evening, but she could endure it for the sake of the orphans, she told herself. “Any new faces?”

“Anyone young, you mean?”

Cindy knew her too well. “It would make a pleasant change.”

Cindy scanned the list. “Hardly anyone our age. The youngest is a thirty-something foreigner, a Mr. Hugh Jordan, here to finalize an investment project with Prince Michel.”

Adrienne felt a jolt and wondered at its source. “Is that why he got an invitation?”

Cindy shook her head. “My note says he was the largest single donor to the appeal.”

“No doubt he thinks the donation makes him look like a big man in Michel’s eyes.” She had recognized the man’s name as soon as Cindy said it. Hugh Jordan planned to establish a vast ranch north of Nuee City, on land that Adrienne had wanted for the same reason.

It still rankled that her brother was more willing to trust a foreigner with the project and the boost it would give to Nuee’s economy than Adrienne herself. She knew as much about breeding horses as any man. But she was a princess and princesses didn’t do that sort of thing, she thought angrily, recalling Michel’s reasoned response.

He hadn’t used those exact words, preferring ones like inappropriate and taking up too much of your valuable time, but the end result was the same. Hugh Jordan got to do what an accident of birth prevented her from doing.

It seemed Michel had told the man about her interest in horse breeding, particularly the Nuee saddlebreds, and he had asked to meet her. But she told her brother she had no intention of sharing her hard-won expertise with the stranger so he could enjoy all the benefits.

Michel had thought her response petty. He was probably right but she didn’t care. Now Hugh Jordan had finagled his way into her charity dinner, anyway. His donation to the appeal was so substantial that there was no way she could avoid meeting him tonight.

“I’ll bet Hugh Jordan smokes cigars and only talks about price movements on the stock exchange. And he’s probably this big,” Cindy said.

As her assistant pantomimed a huge girth, Adrienne was forced to laugh. “And no matter how stuffy or boring he is, you’ll charm him into giving an even larger donation to your beloved children,” Cindy added more seriously.

Adrienne let her eyes flash acceptance of the challenge. “I’ll consider it a personal obligation.”

Cindy dealt with the rest of the details in her usual efficient way, then closed the file. “That’s everything you need to know for now.” Adrienne stood up and felt herself sway slightly. Cindy looked concerned. “Are you all right? Perhaps you overdid things by going out this afternoon.”

Adrienne heard the disapproval in Cindy’s voice. Her assistant made no secret of disliking her employer’s habit of going out incognito, even though she had lent the princess her own car for the purpose.

“I’m fine. I probably just need to eat something before I go down.”

“I’ll have a tray sent up right away.”

She was as good as her word, but Adrienne couldn’t bring herself to eat much before she made her entrance into the ballroom. She took her place at the head of the room as the orchestra played the Carramer national anthem, “From Sea to Stars.” No matter how many times she heard it the music still stirred her blood.

As her experienced staff organized a receiving line, Cindy moved to Adrienne’s side ready to discreetly prompt the princess with any names and personal details she might need. She wasn’t needed a great deal. Adrienne considered herself lucky in having a good memory, and now she greeted each person by name, asking after their partners, children and any other concerns that came to mind.

Then she felt herself go cold from head to foot.

“Mr. Hugh Jordan, rancher from San Francisco,” Cindy murmured, thinking Adrienne’s hesitation meant she needed help identifying the next guest.

“Your Highness, this is indeed a surprise,” the man said, his rich, deep voice laced with irony. From the glitter in his remarkable blue eyes, Adrienne gathered that the surprise wasn’t any more pleasant for him than it was for her.

Far from being the paunchy, stuffy businessman she and Cindy had envisioned, Hugh Jordan was tall, muscular and undeniably good-looking. Even in the relative anonymity of a tuxedo, she recognized him instantly. Mr. Hugh Jordan, rancher from San Francisco, was the man who had come to her rescue at the fair.

Like the other guests he touched her hand in a token handshake, but instead of releasing her immediately as protocol required, his strong fingers curled into her palm and a shiver ran through her. “Small world, isn’t it,” he said softly.

Only years of royal training enabled her to keep a bright smile on her face, although her features felt as if they might crack at any moment. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jordan.” Her heart was beating so rapidly that she felt lightheaded, but not by so much as a flicker of an eyelash did she let herself acknowledge their previous meeting.

For a fleeting moment a shadow of a doubt crossed his face, and she saw him mentally comparing the princess in front of him with the woman he’d encountered earlier. In her designer gown with her hair expertly dressed and a fortune in diamonds and emeralds adorning her head, neck and earlobes, she knew she looked very different from the woman he’d met earlier. Could she convince him it was a case of mistaken identity?

Then he returned his gaze to her face and his eyes hardened. She felt her heart sink. Convincing a man like Hugh Jordan that he was wrong wasn’t an option, she saw.

“The pleasure is mine, Your Highness,” he said in a tone so smooth and hard it reminded her of volcanic glass. “I look forward to spending some time later this evening discussing our…mutual interests.”

Before she could summon her voice to reply, he released her hand and moved on, forcing her to deal with the next guest and giving her no time to collect herself. Only part of her mind was on her duty, she found. What did he mean—discuss their mutual interests? He had come to Carramer to negotiate setting up a ranch on Nuee, the ranch she herself had wanted to establish. If the American thought he could take advantage of their earlier encounter to involve her in his project against her will, he was in for a disappointment.

The idea was so distasteful that she rejected it instinctively. She recognized an element of wishful thinking in the hope that he wasn’t the type to do such a thing. Just because he had come to her rescue didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t use it to get something he wanted. Her position made her an ideal target, she knew.

Hugh Jordan had stumbled on a secret known only to her immediate staff. How would he use the information? The question nagged at her all through the ritual of predinner drinks. Usually she enjoyed circulating among her guests, showing her appreciation for their generous support of the children’s charity. Tonight she was so agitated that Cindy put a hand on her arm and steered her aside.

“Are you feeling all right, Your Highness?”

“What makes you ask?”

“You’re on your second glass of champagne already. That isn’t like you at all, especially when you’ve eaten so little.”

Adrienne looked at the goblet in her hand, surprised to find it almost drained. She had drunk it without being conscious of it. Cindy was right. Usually she restricted herself to mineral water before meals and a single glass of wine at dinner. “Thanks for noticing. I guess I’m a little distracted tonight.” Shaken, she handed the glass to Cindy.

Her assistant set it aside. “You looked a bit shell-shocked when I introduced Hugh Jordan. Do you know him?”

“Tonight was the first time we’ve been introduced.”

Cindy accepted the literal truth without question. “Just as well, because as the appeal’s largest donor, he’s seated on your right at dinner. He’ll be coming to escort you in at any minute.”

Adrienne’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the man who captured her attention even across the considerable expanse of the ballroom. Again her heart started its uncomfortably fast beating at the sight of him. Wearing hand-tailored evening clothes, he managed to look more like one of the cold-eyed lawmen she’d seen in films about the American West. He was a head taller than most of the other male guests, and she saw him methodically scan the crowd until he located his quarry—her.

He started toward her like an aimed bullet, the crowd making way for him as if Hugh and not Adrienne had been royalty. She sensed his disapproval from a dozen feet away, and it cut through her like a knife. “Is there time to change the seating arrangements?” she asked Cindy in a low voice.

Cindy checked her watch. “We’re due to sit down in four minutes. I’d have to ask the kitchen staff to delay serving dinner while I reshuffle the seating.” She sounded frayed and Adrienne knew if anyone else had suggested it, her assistant would have told them what she thought in no uncertain terms.

“Don’t bother, then, everything will be fine,” she assured her assistant. It wasn’t fair to burden her with a problem Adrienne had to admit was of her own making. She lifted her head and fixed her best princess-smile to her face as the source of her tension reached her side. “Mr. Jordan, I’m told we’re to be dinner partners.”

He offered her his bent arm, and she was proud of hesitating only fractionally as she tucked her hand into it. “All things considered, you should call me Hugh,” he growled. “I already know the name you prefer to answer to.”

She knew he was referring to Dee, the name he had heard her use at the fair. “My name is Adrienne,” she said firmly, wishing she wasn’t bound by the rules of etiquette to keep her hand in his arm when every instinct urged her to tear herself free and run as fast as she could away from him.

The banquet table was large enough to land a small plane on, but with Hugh at her side she felt as if it was barely roomy enough for the two of them. “What brings you to Nuee, Hugh?” she made herself ask in a conversational tone, as the first course was served with the precision of a military operation.

“I’m sure your staff briefed you on why I’m here. But for the record, I plan to establish a ranch north of Nuee City and breed saddle horses. It’ll be the South Pacific counterpart of a similar facility I own back in the States.”

As the governor of the islands of Isle des Anges and Nuee, her brother, Prince Michel, had to give royal assent before a foreigner could make an investment on that scale in Carramer, she knew. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to convince Michel to change his mind. “How far advanced are your plans?” she asked.

“Far enough. The land is already mine through a Carramer-based holding company. All I need now is royal approval to set up the ranch.”

Approval her brother had withheld from his own sister, she reminded herself, feeling her anger rise. “I suppose you want me to put in a good word for you with Michel,” she said, her tone unconsciously harsh.

He took a sip of the excellent French wine she had refused in favor of mineral water. “I should think you’d be more worried about what I might say to the prince than what you should say to him,” he said.

She was uncomfortably sure that she knew exactly what he was suggesting but she decided to make him spell it out. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

He glanced around, but the guests nearest to them were engrossed in conversation and enjoying the seafood course that had been placed before them. “You know exactly what I mean…Dee.”

So he did intend to take advantage of what he had learned about her activities. Her spirits plummeted. “Kindly don’t call me that here,” she said, keeping defeat out of her voice with an effort. She hadn’t known quite how much she valued her vacations from duty until they were under threat.

“I gather no one knows about your little foray but you and me.”

“My personal staff know that I like to…keep in touch,” she said awkwardly.

“Is that what you call risking your beautiful neck for a few thrills?”

She drew herself up regally. “You presume a lot on very little knowledge, Mr. Jordan.”

His hand slid over hers in a fleeting but oddly possessive gesture. “It’s a bad habit of mine, especially with a lady whose beautiful a—anatomy I’ve had the pleasure of saving.”

“Crudely put but accurate,” she snapped. “Why do I sense that a simple thank-you isn’t enough to persuade you to drop the subject?”

“Because it won’t be,” he said so mildly that it hardly sounded like a threat at all. More a promise, she thought. Men like Hugh Jordan didn’t threaten. “Why did you refuse me when I asked for a meeting?”

“I didn’t—”

“Oh, the princes’ office gave me the official excuses, but in my experience we can generally do the things we most want to do. Therefore, you wouldn’t see me because you didn’t want to.”

It was bad enough being cut off in midsentence. Of the many people in her life, perhaps only her brothers would have dared. “Royalty has its obligations,” she said, annoyed at being second-guessed so accurately.

“Then Nuee’s prosperity should be high on the list.”

“Of course it is. It’s the smallest of Carramer’s main islands with the least resources.”

“One of them being native horses with the potential to be the world’s greatest saddlebreds.”

“Agreed,” she said.

“So why put up a fight?”

“Because I refused a meeting?”

His eyes gleamed. “A confession, princess?”

Too late, she saw the trap. “A question…and you haven’t answered it.”

He spread his long fingers wide. “Your brother tells me you’re the greatest living expert on Nuee’s native horses. With your expertise and my setup, we could conquer the riding world.”

“Why not the other way around?” she said softly.

His breath hissed between those inviting full lips. “So that’s what this is all about. You wanted that land for yourself, didn’t you?”

“It’s perfect for raising saddlebreds.”

“So why didn’t you buy it?” He swept a gaze around the banquet hall. He knew the value of the silverware alone would feed a normal family for a year. “It can’t be lack of money.”

“Try lack of a Y chromosome.”

He looked startled, as if the idea would never occur to him. “Because you’re female? Carramer isn’t that feudal.”

“It depends on one’s family.”

“Your brothers?” When she nodded, he said, “They must have good reason for keeping you out of the ranching business. Maybe they’re trying to protect you.”

“Spoken like a typical male,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

“The way you did this afternoon? What’s with you, anyway, princess? You could have been injured or killed sneaking out like that.”

She let her eyes flash regal fire at him and waited for him to quail. When he didn’t, she snapped, “I would have handled that drunken oaf. I did handle him, come to think of it.” She saw Hugh wince at the memory of her well-aimed kick. “And I never sneak.”

“So this isn’t the first time you’ve gone out alone and in disguise.” It wasn’t a question. It was certainty. He didn’t seem surprised when she didn’t deny it and went on in an angry voice, “Princess, it seems to me that you don’t know when you’re well-off.”

Confusion gripped her. She had feared he would use what he knew to gain some benefit, but instead he sounded angry on her account. This was getting much too personal. Luckily the next course was being brought in. “I’m glad we had this talk, Hugh, but I can’t monopolize you all evening.”

He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He might be a self-made man but his education, rough as it was, had included the rules of etiquette. Both of them owed some of their attention to the guests on either side of them. “There’s still my dance,” he reminded the princess before she could turn to the man on her left. He had the satisfaction of seeing her lovely eyes widen.

“Your dance?”

“As your appeal’s biggest benefactor, I get to dance with the princess at least once tonight.”

“I may retire early.”

“Even you wouldn’t buck the system that far.”

He was right, damn him. She still had a feeling he wanted something from her, something he hadn’t mentioned yet. She resolved to make it a short dance. “Very well, then, we’ll continue this later.”

He nodded graciously enough but muttered something that sounded like, “You bet we will.” With a resigned sigh, she turned her attention to the man seated on her left. He was a meteorologist, she remembered from Cindy’s briefing. She hoped discussing the weather would be easier on her blood pressure than talking with Hugh.

Even with her attention directed elsewhere she was aware of him, she noticed uncomfortably. As her companion launched into a long dissertation about the effects of the various currents on Carramer’s water temperatures, she nibbled around the edges of her food, mostly pushing it around her plate to give the appearance of eating.

When the lecture faltered, she dragged a snippet of information out of her memory. “I believe you’re also interested in the thermal mapping of tropical storms.”

The meteorologist colored with pleasure. “Your Highness is well informed.”

Efficient, too, in studying the briefing notes Cindy had prepared for her ahead of time. Adrienne inclined her head. “It’s kind of you to say so. Please, go on.”

This started a fresh wave of information that she absorbed with only half her attention. The other half kept shifting to Hugh who had his head bent close to a middle-aged blond woman on his right. Had Cindy mentioned her? She was somebody’s wife, Adrienne recalled, although right now she wasn’t acting much like one.

The woman was all but batting her eyes at him. Hugh didn’t seem to mind, lapping up the attention like mother’s milk. She wasn’t jealous. The woman was welcome to him, Adrienne told herself. He annoyed her, and not only because he knew her secret. He refused to treat her with the deference due her position, challenging and insulting her in a way no one else dared to do.

In fairness she couldn’t blame him for securing the land she had wanted for herself. That fault lay with her brother. But she did resent Hugh’s ready acceptance of it as his right, and his attitude that, as a woman and a princess, she needed protecting from the big, bad world.

All the same he intrigued her, possibly because she didn’t intimidate him. America had no royal family, she recalled, having shed their ties with their monarch centuries before. Yet Hugh’s attitude didn’t seem to come from lack of experience with royalty as much as from the depths of his own character. He would bow before anyone who had earned his deference, but not otherwise, she sensed.

The thought of dancing with him was scary and exhilarating by turns.

At the end of the elaborate meal she stood up, signaling a return to the ballroom, where her heart started to flutter in anticipation. Surely she couldn’t want to dance with Hugh Jordan? If he passed on what he knew, he could cause trouble for her with her brothers. By right she should keep as far away from him as possible. Yet her eyes sought him out with the same recklessness that sent a moth darting to a fatal flame.

“May I have this dance, Your Highness?” he asked formally as the orchestra struck up a waltz.

“Yes.” Strange how hard it was to force the single word out.

With a smoothness she hadn’t expected, he took her hand in his and led her into the center of the room. Pressing against the small of her back, his other hand felt fiery, the almost-backless dress no shield against his touch. She was relieved when they completed the obligatory circle of the room and other dancers joined them on the floor. Alone with Hugh in the spotlight, she had felt exposed and vulnerable.

“You look surprised that I can dance,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “Did you doubt that the foreign cowboy had it in him?”

His breath ruffled her hair, distracting her. “You obviously know your way around a banquet hall and a dance floor, and you’re smart enough in business to impress Michel. So why pretend you’re a hick cowboy?”

“Because it’s what I am. A street kid, a foundling, call it what you like. I wasn’t born with your advantages.”

She tensed involuntarily. “You mean belonging to the royal family?”

“I mean belonging to any family. I didn’t have a family until I was fourteen years old, but you have since birth. Maybe that’s why you don’t appreciate it.”

His harsh tone made her wince almost more than the grip on her hand which had tightened as he spoke. “What makes you think I don’t?”

“Why else would you run away from everything you are for the sake of a cheap thrill or two?”

“You could never understand,” she said bitterly.

“I’m not sure I want to, princess.”

“Must you keep calling me that?”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “Would you prefer Dee?”

“I’d prefer you let me go. We’ve done our duty now and…oh.”

She felt herself sway, held upright only by his arm around her. “Are you okay?”

“Just a little lightheaded. I’ll be fine if I can get some air.”

Still half supporting her, he led her through a set of French doors opening onto a wide terrace lit by flaming torches. By their flickering light he found a stone bench and pressed her onto it. “You didn’t eat much in there, did you?”

“A little.”

“And I’ll bet you didn’t see a doctor when you got back, either.” Her look gave him his answer. “Don’t you realize you could be in shock after what happened at the show?”

“But I’m not,” she insisted.

To her chagrin, his strong fingers pried her eyelids up one after the other and he inspected her pupils as he might have done a horse he intended buying at auction. “Your eyes are clear and your color is good. Next time eat a little more before hitting the dance floor.”

She was tempted to remind him whose fault it was she was there in the first place, but she was too distracted by the feel of his palm against the side of her face and had to fight a stupid inclination to lean into it. “I’m just tired,” she ventured.

“And willful and dangerously reckless,” he added. “At one time I’d have given my right arm for a brother who cared about me as much as yours do, and you don’t have the sense to appreciate them.”

No one had ever spoken to her so bluntly, not even her brothers. She drew herself up shakily. “Kindly remember to whom you are speaking.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said softly, touching a finger to her chin and tilting her face up a fraction more. “It’s the only thing stopping me from doing what I wanted to do this afternoon at the show.”

She could hardly speak. “What’s that?”

“Kiss you senseless.”

Her breath snagged in her throat as she felt her arousal build. It seemed inconceivable that Hugh could have such an effect on her with a few words and a touch, but he had. “You don’t even know me.”

He shrugged dismissively. “Call it chemistry, but it’s the way I feel. I spent most of the time between the show and coming here wondering how to find you again.”

“And now that you have?”

He glanced around but the others were still dancing. They had the terrace to themselves. “I find you’re so far above me that I can’t reach high enough to touch you.”

“Are you sure?” She stood up so their faces were as close to level as his extra inches in height would allow. Her stiletto-heeled shoes didn’t help nearly enough.

It was all the invitation he needed. With an indrawn breath he slid his arms around her and found her mouth. His lips were as commanding as she’d imagined, shaping hers to some hidden agenda of his own.

There was nothing hesitant in the way he gathered her against him and merged his mouth with hers. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pressing her closer, letting her feel his body heat as the rich masculine taste of him filled her mouth.

If she’d thought she was aroused before, it was nothing compared to the fire racing through her by the time he released her. She felt so shaken that it was an effort to slip her mask of royal reserve back into place. “Satisfied now?”

He seemed far less moved by the kiss than she was, and the discovery rankled for some reason.

“Let’s say it’s a start.”

“It can’t be any such thing,” she said haughtily. “This is insane. If I was feeling better…”

“You’d do exactly what we just did,” he supplied with infuriating coolness. “You wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss you.”

But in his case it meant a lot less, she saw. Wanting to hit back, she said, “It’s done now. Over.”

Slowly he shook his head. “Oh, no, princess, it isn’t over by a long shot. There’s still the matter of your reckless behavior to be discussed, and another matter I intended to bring up with you.”

“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.

“It will keep. Right now, you should rest—and have your doctor take a look at you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, how soon can I see you again?”