One-Click Buy: November Harlequin Presents (8 page)

He could think what he liked; she was going to stand and take in every detail…It was more fuel for her paintings.

As Nico increased his stroke the chalky pink scarf the princess wore around her neck floated out behind her. It finished the picture and made Carrie long to paint the scene…the swarthy hero with his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing his powerful forearms, the wide spread of Nico's shoulders and the flex of his muscles as he drove his oar through the water. The tension in his legs beneath his jeans…

In fact, Carrie thought mischievously, she would be quite happy to leave Anastasia out of it. It would make a much better painting, she concluded, turning away.

A
S SHE
prepared for dinner that night Carrie was excited and apprehensive in equal measure. She was also doubly determined not to let Princess Laura down. She fully intended to look her best. But when the maid went to collect her dress they discovered that a calamity had occurred.

The first Carrie knew of it was a distraught cry that brought her running into the dressing room. ‘Are you all right?' she said anxiously, drawing the girl into her arms when she saw how upset she was.

‘Your dress…the beautiful gown…I can't find it.'

‘But it can't have disappeared,' Carrie said sensibly. ‘Come on, let's look for it together. We'll soon find it. You start at one end of the rail and I'll start at the other…'

But as they searched Carrie's confidence began to falter. She flicked determinedly through the press of garments a second time. There were so many gowns to search through. If there was one thing she had learned it was that Princess Laura didn't do anything by halves. Once the dressmakers had taken her measurements they must have been sewing nonstop. But there was only one special gown for tonight, and it was nowhere to be found.

She hid her feelings from the maid, but she had lost more than a gown, she had lost her chance to make Nico see her differently….

‘Maybe you could wear another dress,
signorina?
' the maid suggested in desperation.

Carrie's concerns switched immediately to the young girl's disappointment. ‘What a good idea. Let's look for one together,' she suggested, forcing a bright note into her voice.

But there was nothing to compare with the matchless gown, and after a fruitless hunt the maid suggested checking all the other dressing rooms in the palace in case there had been a mix up of some sort.

‘Whatever's happened to the gown it's not worth crying about,' Carrie assured her. ‘And it's too late to start searching the palace,' she pointed out logically. With the maid on the verge of tears again she had to be practical, but it wasn't easy when the loss of the dress was such a bitter blow.

‘Please, let me go and look for it,
signorina,
' the maid pleaded with her. ‘You never know, I might find it.'

‘All right, but I don't want you to worry if you don't. This isn't your fault. While you're gone, I'll have another look through the wardrobe. I'm sure I'll find something else to wear.'

Carrie picked out several formal dresses and then discarded them again for various reasons. Some of the necklines plunged to the waist, which with her voluptuous figure was hardly prudent, and others had slits almost to the crotch. All the shoes seemed to have spindly heels, and she dreaded wearing them, but time was marching on and there was still no sign of the maid returning.

Carrie glanced out of the window and her throat dried as she caught sight of the stream of limousines rolling in procession along the road towards the palace. Their passengers would be ambassadors and billionaires, and enough European royalty to fill the pages of a celebrity magazine. Princess Laura had wanted to prepare her for this, and had wanted her to feel comfortable in such elevated company, and now everything had gone wrong. She glanced at the door, she couldn't wait for the maid any longer. She wouldn't risk being late for Princess Laura. She would just have to choose something else to wear….

But now Carrie made another worrying discovery—everything in the wardrobe was at least one size too small. It didn't make sense. Princess Laura's dressmakers had been so thorough and precise with their measurements and she found it hard to believe they would have made such an elementary mistake. She began to suspect someone had done this on purpose to humiliate her.

Returning to the wardrobe, she selected a beaded sheath with an impressive fishtail train, for no better reason than it fell off the hanger at her feet and she took it for a sign. Now she just had to hope the Fates were on her side.

Having shoehorned her way into the dress, Carrie found she couldn't fasten all the tiny silk-covered buttons that ran up the back. Glancing at the clock, she grew increasingly anxious. For her to walk into the banqueting hall after the king had sat down was an unimaginable breach of etiquette, and she had no intention of embarrassing Princess Laura.

So where was the maid? Had she been hijacked along the way? Carrie was beginning to think that the loss of the gown was no mistake, and that perhaps the maid had been sent on some new, time-consuming errand by the same person who had removed the gown. Because the dress had been taken, Carrie thought grimly as she battled with the buttons.

The only way she could secure the dress she had chosen was by tugging it round, fastening the buttons, and then heaving it back again. Unfortunately by this time her cheeks were beetroot red, and her carefully dressed hair was hanging in tangles. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she felt like crying. The jewelled bodice barely covered her big bouncing breasts that threatened to erupt out of the confines of her gown at any moment. She looked a mess, and now it was too late to choose something else to wear. The fabulous couture gown didn't hang on her as it was supposed to. It clung in a most unflattering way, revealing every cream cake she had ever consumed in her life. And she still had to choose some shoes….

How could she choose when she couldn't bend over? Hopping around, she managed to hook some stratospheric stilettos with her big toe. ‘Lengthen your line'—wasn't that the advice for small, plump people in women's magazines? She had certainly done that, and had become a five foot nine walking disaster along the way. Grabbing a handful of hairpins as she tottered towards the door, she stuck them in her mouth, intending to stab them into her hair as she hurried to the banquet.

Carrie made a conscious effort to slow down when she reached the main reception room and tried to copy everyone else, but that wasn't easy when she was so uncomfortable in the ill-fitting dress and could hardly walk a step without falling off the wobbly shoes. As if that weren't bad enough, everyone but her was part of a couple, or a group….

She would just have to play a role. She was tall and elegant…she was a woman of the world, confident and self-possessed. She was utterly at home in the palace….

Well, she was until she reached the double doors and saw Princess Laura waiting for her. The princess was talking animatedly with a group of friends, and looked stunning in full-length lilac chiffon. Her gown was sprinkled with diamanté and she wore a glittering tiara on her head. She had dainty beaded dancing slippers on her feet…and, though Carrie tried hard not to look, Nico was standing at his mother's side.

She was furious with herself for allowing Nico to affect her so badly. Gazing around, she searched for an escape route. All she needed was a few minutes alone to compose herself and then she'd be all right….

A few minutes in the fresh air would be perfect, Carrie decided, spotting a door into the garden.

The footmen in attendance quickly opened it for her, and the moment it clicked shut behind her she breathed a sigh of relief. Just as she'd thought, it was better, cooler in the garden. She took several deep, steadying breaths and only a couple of minutes went by before she felt ready to return.

But as she turned Carrie noticed that the lights in the corridor had been switched off. Going up to the door, she pressed her face against the glass. The footmen were nowhere to be seen. Trying the handle, she found it locked.

She wasted precious minutes in a panic, rattling the handle, and staring down the deserted corridor, until she finally accepted that she would have to find another way in.

The light was fading rapidly and the towering walls seemed so dark and oppressive. And she couldn't even be sure she was heading in the right direction…The substitute gown with its heavy beading was like a suit of armour, and agitation had sent her internal heating system into meltdown.

Hearing voices, she sped up. The palace kitchen, Carrie realised with relief. The doors had been left open to allow the heat to escape….

There was a lot of good-natured comment as she made her way gingerly through the banks of cookers. She didn't dare to touch anything, and the walkway was slippery beneath her feet. Her face was growing redder by the minute, and she knew without touching it that her hair was standing off her head in a frizz. There was a serving area at the end of the room and a queue of waiters standing ready. It was too late now to worry about committing the cardinal sin of appearing in the banqueting hall after King Giorgio. She had no other way of getting in, and, having accepted Princess Laura's invitation, nothing was going to stop her.

Nearly overbalancing, she staggered back into her shoes, and then, making her excuses, she squeezed through the waiting staff. The man standing guard at the door was so taken aback by the sight of her that he forgot to stop her walking past him.

The first thing she knew was light so strong it blinded her. The glare from a dozen chandeliers blazed straight into her eyes, along with the flash of diamonds, the glint of silver and the sparkle of champagne…Expensive scent hung in the air along with the cooler smell of privilege. There was no heat around her now, just a stunned and icy silence as rows and rows of faces turned her way.

Hearing a nervous laugh, Carrie realised she was the only person in the vast room who found her situation remotely amusing. And there must have been five hundred people or more in the banqueting hall, including the royal family seated on a raised dais. And now the waiters were pressing at her back, and she had no way to turn around….

And then, incredibly, Nico was at her side. Her chest was in a vise at the sight of him and she could hardly breathe. Nico helping her to straighten her dress…Nico steadying her as she tried to take her first wobbly step…

‘Wait,' he snapped.

She clung gratefully to his arm, keenly aware of the solid strength of him. Being with Nico validated her presence at the banquet. And, of course, he was immune to the titters and murmurs coming her way…unkind comments that were very quickly dying away.

And now there was only silence. But still Nico appeared in no hurry to move forward. He stood as if everyone was lucky to have this opportunity to feast their eyes on them. And as far as Nico was concerned she had to admit that he was right. He was dressed splendidly and wore his official uniform with pride. On any other man it might have appeared effete, but on Nico it only emphasised his blistering masculinity.

But she didn't need him to put her on a leading rein. She could manage perfectly well without him. ‘Nico, I'm quite capable of—'

‘Not now, Carrie.'

Taking her hand, Nico locked her in his grip, giving her no alternative but to accompany him. Halting at the foot of the dais, he bowed to the king and indicated that she should do the same. ‘When is this going to end, Carrie?' he murmured as they lowered their heads, and then, raising her up again, he led her forward to join the royal family.

By the time she was seated next to Princess Laura, Carrie felt as if someone had drawn a running thread through her stomach and pulled it tight. And there was no softness in the princess's gaze, just a look that willed her to be strong. She had only been in her seat a few moments when Nico leaned down to murmur to his mother, ‘Don't worry, Mother, I'm sure I'll be able to find another chair.'

Realising her mistake, Carrie blushed and went to stand up again, but Princess Laura stopped her.

‘He's quite old enough to look after himself,' she said with a twinkle.

Glancing up, Carrie thought she saw a flicker of amusement on Nico's face, too. Was he laughing at her?

As he sat down Nico reflected that he had just shared the warmest look with his mother he could remember for years. It seemed Carrie's pluck had impressed both of them; she had certainly taken the stuffiness out of the occasion. How long since he'd relaxed like this at a state banquet? How long since someone had broken all the rules only to endear herself to the king? Who couldn't take his eyes off her, he noticed now. Driven to move closer to Carrie, he moved his seat to sit next to her.

Carrie tensed as Nico came to sit beside her. She was aware of nothing now but his mocking gaze on her face.

‘My mother tells me there's been some mix-up over your gown,' he said, leaning closer. ‘I'm sure there must have been. Do something about that, will you?'

He was staring straight down her cleavage.

‘And what do you suggest?' Carrie demanded, though she could feel her face turning red when she checked. Her breasts had almost escaped the confines of the uncomfortable bodice and she had to make some speedy adjustments in order to avoid a very public disaster.

‘Charming,' Nico murmured, bringing his face even closer. ‘Such style and grace…As a royal guest you make a very good sideshow, Carrie Evans.'

‘If you had listened to me in the first place, I wouldn't be here,' Carrie pointed out tensely.

‘But then I would have missed this…'

‘Perhaps you think this is funny, because you're used to events like this, and can relax. But I can assure you that being laughed at by everyone isn't remotely funny for me—'