The Making of a Princess (11 page)

This was all her fault. She’d known all along they had no future together, so there was no use crying now her expectations had proved true. It hurt more than she ever dreamed, but that didn’t change the outcome.

Time to deal and move on.

“Right. It’s over.” She made it a firm statement as she sank back into her seat, disengaging contact with him. “Thank you for explaining.”

“I, too, am glad we had this talk. Under the circumstances it is best we are both clear on the state of our relationship.”

“Don’t worry,” she said stiffly. “I will not be telling anyone about our brief association.”

“I will, of course, report my inappropriate actions.” He was equally stiff. “But that is not what I was talk—”

“Hold it.” Snapping forward in her chair, she sat on the edge and turned to face him. “You are not to tell anyone anything.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I
AM
NOT
going to start my relationship with my father with this hanging over my head.” Bad enough it was hanging over her heart.

“I must report to my superiors. You have done nothing wrong. It will not affect you.”

“Your superiors include my father. I don’t want him knowing about this. Regardless of what you say, it will be a strain on our meeting. Promise me you won’t tell anyone anything.”

“Amanda—”

“No. You said it was not the soldier that spent time with me, so the soldier has nothing to report.”

“Separating the two is what got me into trouble in the first place.”

“Xavier, you owe me.” Unable to sit still she hopped to her feet and began to pace. “I get it, we’re over. But I don’t want my father and half the country knowing about our failed fling. I’d like to be able to look people in the face with some dignity.”

“You are overreacting. The reports are confidential.”

“Not from my father!” She swung around almost tripping over the boots she’d kicked off. “Not from the generals or colonels or whatever. Your superiors are the people I’ll be meeting. I put my life on hold for this trip. Don’t make me regret it before we even reach Pasadonia. Promise me you’ll say nothing.”

He continued to hesitate.

And into the silence Calli arrived with their meal. She rolled in a cart, pushed a button that raised a table between the four console seats, and quickly dressed it with linens and fine china. From a warming tray she pulled domed plates and placed one at each setting.

“Bon appétit,”
she said with a smile.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” Amanda asked, fighting off the mortification she felt when Calli came into the room. She worried what people in Pasadonia would think, but hadn’t given a thought to the woman in the next room.

“
Merci,
I have already dined. Now I must see to the crew’s dinner.”

“Of course.” Amanda sighed in relief. “Thank you, this looks lovely.”

“It is my pleasure. Please enjoy.” With a shallow bow of her head the woman rolled her cart from the room.

Amanda dropped into her chair, bent double, and buried her face in her hands. “Just kill me now.”

A moment later she felt Xavier’s hand smooth over her head and two tears leaked past the control she was barely holding onto.

“It is not like you to be so dramatic.” His voice was as soft as his delicate touch. “All these rooms are soundproofed to protect the Prince’s privacy.”

“Thank you God.” She uttered the small prayer with total gratitude, slowly straightening in her seat. He was right, it wasn’t like her to be dramatic, but she felt so out of her depth. She turned pleading eyes to him. “Xavier?”

“This is important to you.”

She gave a frustrated laugh. “Have I not made that clear?”

“It is a difficult thing you ask. A matter of honor.”

“It doesn’t have to be. What happened between us is nobody’s business but ours. I would understand if it was a matter of national security, but it was personal. Not the Prince’s daughter and his guard, just a man and a woman. From the moment my identity was confirmed you have been the picture of propriety. Can’t that be enough?” She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. “Meeting a father I’ve never known is hard enough. Don’t make me wonder if everyone I meet is judging me, or worse, pitying me.”

He sighed and stood to slide past her and walk around the table to take the seat opposite. He lifted the domed lids from the plates and set them aside. The scent of roast chicken hit her stomach like a brick, heavy and unwanted.

“Perhaps I could delay my report until after you have returned home.”

It took a moment for the words to register. When they did, it seemed the perfect solution. She began to slump in relief but stopped. “Perhaps? Does that mean you will or you won’t?”

“It means I will, but there is more I must tell you. First you should eat.”

Not liking the sound of that, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What more?”

He shook his head and gestured to her plate. “Please eat. You’ll feel better.”

Nothing she said would dissuade him so she reached for her fork and reluctantly took a bite of the succulent chicken. Excellent. Suddenly starved, she attacked the meal with gusto, mostly managing to ignore the controlling, aggravating, totally gorgeous man across from her.

Surprisingly after the turmoil of their post-takeoff argument, the meal passed in companionable silence. And finally it was over. After wiping her mouth, she put the question to him.

“Okay, I’ve eaten.” And she did feel better but wouldn’t admit that to him. “Tell me more.”

Xavier went still and then deliberately pushed his plate aside. Running an assessing gaze over her, he saw the meal had done its job in helping to alleviate the tension surrounding her. Good, because she wasn’t going to care for this next part.

“You asked if we had a plan to account for your time in Pasadonia. The Prince agrees that it would be best for the two of you to have time to get to know each other outside the scrutiny of the people or the press. This is not easily arranged.”

“Of course.” She nodded her understanding even as her eyes remained wary. “The Prince is a public figure.”

“Exactly so.” He appreciated her intelligence, her ability to read the situation. He disliked seeing her in distress, hated he was the one to cause her pain. He very much feared his news would do both.

“It has been known that I would be returning home for the Festival of Arms to see my father honored. You will be accompanying me as my lady friend.”

“Lady friend,” she repeated, then the light dawned. “You mean girlfriend?” Clearly appalled she shook her head. “No. That’s not a good idea.”

“It has already been decided. My quarters are in the palace. You will be given a room nearby. Your protection is also an issue. The cover will allow me to stay close without causing undue attention.”

“It sounds like you have it all worked out.”

Oh yeah. Distress, pain, and a healthy dose of totally pissed.

He could not let her emotions sway him. He was not allowed that luxury.

“The arrangements have been made.”

“Without discussing it with me first? Without giving me the courtesy of having a say?” She slowly stood and gathered her personal items, purse, boots, jacket. Her dignity she wrapped around her like a cloak. At the door to the hall leading to the back of the plane she turned. “I’ll be taking the bedroom. Next time you communicate with my father tell him so far I’m not impressed.”

He winced as the door slammed behind her. Fury clearly had the upper hand.

Bon
. He’d rather see rage in her eyes than the hurt that had haunted them, and him, for the past week.

As for her message to her father? He’d be sure to pass that along.

* * *

Amanda fumed, pacing the length of the bed and back trying to work off excess energy.

The men of Pasadonia needed to stop treating her like a child. She was an adult and she was past the point of giving up control to anyone else. A lesson probably well learned before she met her father the Prince.

Finally fatigue caught up with her. Deciding not to bother Calli for a change of clothes, Amanda just stretched out across the queen bed in her jeans and sweater and within moments dropped into a deep sleep.

It surprised her how well and how long she slept. And the best part was she managed to avoid Xavier for most of the trip. Where he slept she had no idea, and she didn’t care.

If he could so easily put her behind him, then she could put him behind her, too.

By the time she woke they’d already refueled in Baltimore and were half way across the Atlantic. After breakfast, Xavier schooled her in palace protocol and then they were landing in Barcelona where they transferred to a helicopter for the last leg of the trip.

Nearly twenty-three hours after leaving San Francisco, Amanda touched down in Pasadonia. They flew in as day gave way to night. The city sprawled from harbor side to hillside to the beautiful white stone palace overlooking both. Lights were beginning to twinkle on throughout the city so the landscape appeared to glitter. Amanda’s breath caught at the magical impact.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“Yes.” Xavier’s voice came through the earphones she’d been given. “Welcome to Pasadonia.”

And then they were flying over the palace turrets and she had impressions of lush grounds threaded with walkways guarded by statues. And the sparkle of water. “Is that a moat?”

“Once a upon a time it was. Now it is just a pond.”

Just. As if everyone had a pond in their yard. But then this wasn’t just a home; it was the heart of Pasadonia, the abode of the royal family and the governing bodies of the Principality.

Moments later the heliport loomed below them and the craft began the descent sending a sinking feeling to her stomach. Her heart beat a wild tattoo both at the landing and at the prospect of meeting her father.

Xavier assisted her in disembarking and kept hold of her hand. She gave him a look at the odd behavior, then remembered their cover and let her hand go limp in his.

Two people were waiting to assist them, a dignified man with a bald head dressed in full livery and a lovely dark-haired woman in a designer suit. Xavier introduced the man as Armand, head porter, and the woman as Elayna Josef, assistant to the Social Secretary.

“Welcome
mademoiselle,
” Armand stated formally. “You have been given a room in the palace. Your luggage will be delivered to your room, if you will follow me.”

“Of course.” A little loopy from fatigue Amanda fell into step behind the man, wondering why the name Elayna sounded familiar. She slowed her pace falling behind a bit and Xavier matched his stride to hers.

“Social Secretary?” she questioned him. “I thought my presence was to be low key.”

“Do not worry. The Social Secretary has no interest in your arrival.” He cleared his throat. “Elayna is here more for me. I am involved in several of the festivities this week.”

“Oh. Oh! Elayna, your old girlfriend. The one you wouldn’t give up your career for.” Perfect. Just the person she wanted to meet upon arrival. Someone up in the cosmos had a cruel sense of humor. “Maybe we can form a club.”

“Behave yourself.” He took her elbow and hurried her along. But she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

She bit her lips to hide a smile. Sometimes you had to laugh or you’d cry.

As they drew closer to the others, Elayna latched onto Xavier and started talking in a mix of English and French about people and events Amanda knew nothing about and only half understood. Too tired to care, she fixed her gaze on the porter’s back and put one foot in front of the other.

Once inside, she followed Armand through wide hallways dressed in quiet elegance. The art was museum quality and warranted a closer look but that was for another time.

“Mademoiselle Carn will be staying in the Champagne Suite.” Armand opened the door on a beautiful sitting room in cream and gold, the décor traditional elegance.

“I will leave you here,
chéri
.” The brunette interrupted in order to break away. Her brown eyes ate Xavier up, but cooled considerably when she turned to Amanda. “Welcome Ms. Carn. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“You’re so kind.” Amanda wrapped her arm around Xavier’s waist and leaned against him. “I know Xavier was happy to see a friend here to greet us. He’s so worried I’ll feel like an outsider, he insists on spending every minute he can with me.”

“Of course.” The woman’s frozen smile never wavered. “I will see you in the morning,” she said to Xavier before walking away.

Xavier led Amanda into the sitting room where the porter waited. “I thought you were going to behave.”

“Hey, I was nice. If my comment showed up her bad behavior, that’s on her.”

He sighed. “You are right. My apologies.”

“Hmm” was all she said, making him frown.

Good. Maybe he’d think twice before defending his old flame again.

“An agenda of the scheduled events for the Festival of Arms is on the desk.” Armand resumed his porter duties, pointing out the amenities in the room and ending with the promise, “I’ll be by tomorrow to give you a tour of the public areas.”

He began to show her to the attached bedroom, but Xavier stopped him.

“Thank you Armand. I will see Ms. Carn settled and take care of her tour tomorrow,” he advised the head porter.

“As you wish.” Armand acknowledged the change with a sharp nod of his head. “
Mademoiselle
please dial 9 if there is anything you desire.”

“Thank you, Armand, you’ve been very helpful.”

With another inclination of his head, he bid them goodnight and let himself out of the suite.

“So what’s the plan now?” The words had barely left her mouth when the door to the bedroom opened and a man and woman strolled out.

Just shy of Xavier’s six foot two, and broader through the shoulders, the Prince had a regal bearing that radiated power. Dark auburn touched with gray at the temples gave him a distinguished air and revealed where the strawberry in her hair came from. The woman, a slim blonde, barely reached his shoulder and had the warmest green eyes Amanda had ever met.

Xavier immediately moved to her side. Without thinking, she reached for his hand. He gripped it tightly and made totally unnecessary introductions.

“Your Royal Highnesses, may I present Miss Amanda Carn. Amanda, the Royal Highnesses Jean Claude Antoine Carrère and Bernadette Katherine, the Prince and Princess of Pasadonia.”

“Oh my.” She gulped, her gaze locked on the stranger that was her father. “Hello...” She trailed off, unsure how to address him.

“Papa works for me,” he said gruffly and stepped forward to pull her into a hug. “It’s what the boys call me.”

She nodded. “Behind closed doors, of course.”

His answering smile was regal. “I appreciate your discretion.”

“Believe me, I have no desire to become the focus of the press.” If she thought her grandparents’ reputations caused her trouble growing up on campus, times that by a thousand to reach the ruling Prince of a European country.