The Making of a Princess

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.

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 might 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 …

TERESA CARPENTER believes in the power of unconditional love, and that there’s no better place to find it than between the pages of a romance novel. Reading is a passion for Teresa—a passion that led to a calling. She began writing more than twenty years ago and marks the sale of her first book as one of her happiest memories. Teresa gives back to her craft by volunteering her time to Romance Writers of America on a local and national level.

A fifth-generation Californian, she lives in San Diego, within miles of her extensive family, and knows that with their help she can accomplish anything. She takes particular joy and pride in her nieces and nephews, who are all bright, fit, shining stars of the future. If she’s not at a family event, you’ll usually find her at home—reading, writing or playing with her adopted Chihuahua, Jefe.

The Making of a Princess

Teresa Carpenter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my editorial team at Mills & Boon Cherish past and present. Thank you for your patience, encouragement and insight. We make a stellar team.

PROLOGUE

Princess Camp

AMANDA CARN SHRUGGED INTO her backpack then grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase. Slowly, reluctantly she followed her roommates and new best friends from the cabin they’d shared for the past two weeks.

She’d had the time of her life here at Princess Camp and she wasn’t ready for it to end. She’d never be ready for it to end.

“Amanda, come on.” Michelle, a bouncing blonde dressed as Sleeping Beauty, waved her along. “If we don’t get to tea early, we won’t get to sit together.”

“I’m not hungry.” She winced at the petulant note in her voice. She detested petulance.

Grandmother’s displeasure came across as petulant, and oh how she would hate it if she knew. A professor at an elite Northern California University, she was a brilliant woman, disciplined in both manner and emotion. She rarely allowed a show of temper, which was a good thing, because it wasn’t a pretty look on her.

“Well, I’m starved.” Elle, beautiful as Belle, gave Michelle a significant look and they both came back to hook an arm through each of Amanda’s, drawing her forward.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” she whispered, not wanting it to be a whine.

“I’m going to miss the scones,” Elle declared. “Hurry.”

“Our time’s not up yet, silly.” Michelle told Amanda, refusing to be rushed. “We have the tea, and then the closing ceremony. There’s lots of time left.”

Something in her voice made Amanda turn to study Michelle’s profile. “You don’t want to leave, either.”

“None of us want to leave.” Elle sighed, brushing her mahogany curls behind her. “But I don’t want our last day to be sad either.” She stopped on the path and turned to face them. “We have to all promise to come back next year.” She held up her hand, little finger raised high. “Pinkie swear you’ll do everything you can to come back.”

Michelle immediately hooked her pinkie finger with Elle’s. “I’ll start working on my dad as soon as I get home. He owes me for missing parents’ day.”

Amanda’s hand curled into a fist as sadness bloomed into despair. “It would have been better if my grandparents didn’t come to parents’ day. Grandmother has already said she felt the camp misrepresented itself as having a curriculum of etiquette and decorum when it was clearly a production of fantasy and frivolity.”

Her friends blinked at her.

“You mean she doesn’t like the camp because they let us play princess while teaching us manners?” Elle said.

Amanda nodded. “I doubt I’ll be able to talk her into letting me come again.”

“Is that why they only stayed an hour on parents’ night?” Michelle asked.

“No.” She worried the end of her long strawberry blond braid. “They had another engagement. Grandmother was hosting a reception for a visiting professor. They have them all the time.”

“She couldn’t do that another night?” Michelle demanded, reaching for Amanda’s hand. She, too, knew how it felt to come second to duty.

“It doesn’t matter. I would have been nervous if they’d stayed for the talent show.”

“Afraid Grandmother wouldn’t approve?” Michelle guessed.

Amanda shrugged, feeling it would be disloyal to agree even if it was true. She longed to come back next year. Her grandparents were very protective of her and the university life was restrained and structured, with not much to offer a ten-year-old. And Grandmother didn’t like it when Amanda made a fuss about things.

But then some things were worth making a fuss over. Like precious friends. Looking from Elle to Michelle, Amanda slowly lifted her hand and hooked her pinkie with theirs.

“I promise to keep in touch. And to do everything I can to be here next year.”

CHAPTER ONE

Fifteen years later

XAVIER MARCEL LEDUC, Commandant of the Royal Pasadonian Republican Guard was ready to go home. For six months he’d been away, traveling with the crown jewels on an extended American tour that started in New York and would end here in San Francisco.

He ran his gaze over the well-dressed crowd. Tonight was a pre-event viewing, for the social elite and members of the museum, and privileged donors. Hardly a high risk crowd. All the more reason to be on guard, in his opinion. And as the senior officer in charge of the crown jewels’ security, his opinion counted.

He saw her the moment she walked into the room, a breath of fresh air in a throng of perfumed elegance. She wore a black ruffled skirt that ended a few inches above her knees topped by a black sweater with beaded trim. Young and chic, her only adornment was her creamy white skin and the vibrant fall of red gold hair that reached the top of her lovely derrière.

An attractive blond accompanied her through the exhibit, but it was the redhead who held his attention. Not only was she lovely, something about her was familiar.

When the women reached the portrait of Princess Vivienne, he went totally still, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

Signaling one of his men to take command of his post, Xavier approached the woman and her companion.

“Oh, oh, oh. Look how the tiara sparkles. That’s it. I just decided I’m having a tiara for my wedding. Do you think you could borrow this one for me?”

“Shh!” Amanda hooked her arm around Michelle’s and drew her away from the delicate diamond display. “These are royal jewels on loan from Pasadonia. I do not work for this museum, so no, I can’t borrow it for you. Now behave yourself.”

“I guess I could just snatch it.”

“Oh my God.”

“Relax. I’m just teasing. Trying to get you to relax. You’re bound tighter than your grandmother’s knickers.”

“Stop. And no more talk of borrowing or snatching any of the Crown Jewels. That’s not going to relax me. Security is all over the place. It would not look good to the museum I do work for if I was kicked out of this one.”

“Is it the security that has you twitching?”

“No. I mean it shouldn’t be. We’re not doing anything to draw their attention. But I feel like I’m being watched. It probably is the extra vigilant security.”

“Maybe not. Let’s take a gander, shall we?” Michelle led the way to one of the three foot by three foot glass displays that stood six feet high in the middle of the room. This one held a beautiful ballgown from the late 1800s topped by a stunning ruby necklace, earrings, and tiara.

Being women, the jewels got first consideration but the elaborate dress also drew Amanda’s attention. “Can you imagine wearing something that heavy to dance in?”

“I couldn’t do it.” Michelle shook her head, her blond hair shimmering with the motion. “I would have had to be a strumpet.”

“Ha.” Amanda closed her lips over a burst of laughter, the old habit hard to break even though she’d been out from under Grandmother’s iron rule for nearly six months. “I’m telling Nate you said that.”

Her friend slanted sly green eyes her way. “Nate loves my inner strumpet.”

“I bet he does.” Amanda bumped shoulders with her best buddy. “I’m so happy for you. It’s obvious you two are in love. He’s been good for you.”

“Dude, he’s the best. And he comes with the little munchkin.”

She glowed. The biggest cynic Amanda knew actually glowed talking about her fiancé and his infant ward. It made Amanda ache with delight for her friend, but also with loneliness.

Both her BFFs had found their very own Prince Charmings. And Amanda truly wished them a fairy tale happily ever after. But it made her long for a man of her own, someone she could be herself with, who would believe in her without limits, who loved her despite her faults.

Despite her faults? Wow, she had to stop channeling her grandmother. She wanted what she’d never had, a relationship of comfort, warmth and affection. She longed for a man she could trust, a man who above all else would be honest with her.

And yes, a man who embraced her inner strumpet.

“There he is,” Michelle whispered in her ear. “Your stalker.”

“Where?” Amanda looked up and into the brown eyes of a black-haired man. He stood militarily straight, on the edge of the room, arms crossed over his chest, eyes trained on her.

She smiled. And he quirked an eyebrow.

She blinked and looked away, pulling Michelle with her towards the display of royal portraits.

“Mmm, sexy,” Michelle observed. “And he definitely has his eye on you.”

“You were right, he’s security. Head of security for Pasadonia.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw him on the morning news. They were doing a piece on the opening. He’s part of the Pasadonian Royal Guard traveling with the crown jewels.”

“He sure is pretty, but intense. It looks like a smile might break those cheekbones.”

“Don’t stare.”

Amanda pulled Michelle around so they faced the painting of a woman wearing a three-point crown and a jewel encrusted crest around her neck. The plaque read Princess Vivienne, 1760–1822.

“He’s working.” For some reason Amanda felt compelled to defend him. “And some people like to kid around about stealing the tiaras.”

Michelle grinned. “Bet that would land his ass in a wringer.”

“Yes, actually, that is indeed the truth.”

The deep male voice with a slight accent sounded from behind them causing Amanda to jump guiltily.

Michelle was unfazed. Smiling easily she turned to confront the man. “You can’t put all these sparkles on display and not expect a girl to want.”

“You are welcome to admire all you wish.” He bowed his head slightly. “That is, of course, the point of the tour. However, I must insist you do nothing to place my ass in a wringer.”

Amanda smiled appreciating his humor, the gentle mocking.

“Oh, he’s funny.” Michelle took no offense. She elbowed Amanda. “Sexy and funny, you should say hello.”

“Hello.” Well used to her friend’s bluntness, Amanda just went with it. Besides, he was sexy, and funny. She held out her hand. “I’m Amanda Carn.”

“Miss Carn.” He bowed low over her hand, almost but not quite kissing her fingers. “It is my pleasure.”

Michelle shifted so he wouldn’t be able to see her, and wiggled her eyebrows. Amanda just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. But she couldn’t help but be charmed.

“Xavier Marcel LeDuc at your service.”

“You must forgive my friend, monsieur. She has a warped sense of humor but means no harm.”

The Commandant nodded to the portrait behind her. “Your resemblance to Princess Vivienne is what drew me over. Do you, perhaps, have family in Pasadonia?”

“Oh my gosh,” Michelle exclaimed. “Amanda, you totally look like the princess in the picture.”

“What?” Amanda automatically turned to view the painting.

The woman in the picture appeared to be in her forties. She wore her bright red hair up, the weight of it, and the crown making her long neck look fragile. A creamy complexion and somber blue eyes gave her an elegant air. She possessed a delicate beauty beyond anything Amanda aspired to. Yes, their coloring was similar, but that was all, and even then Amanda’s strawberry blond hair and silver gray eyes resembled the woman’s but were a toned down version of the princess.

“Oh no.” Amanda automatically made the denial. Because really, the closest she got to royalty was playing princess at Princess Camp all those years ago. But then she had to qualify, because she didn’t really know her full ancestral makeup. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“The likeness is quite remarkable.”

“Oh please,” she gave a dismissive wave, “she’s beautiful.”

“Yes.” He nodded, a shallow, regal gesture, his amber gaze never leaving her face. “Very beautiful.”

“Oh.” She blushed. Those compelling light brown eyes held her captive, seemed to delve into her soul, seeking all her secrets. And she was keen to share. Michelle’s elbow dug into her ribs, reminding her to speak. “Um. Thank you.”

“What she meant to say,” Michelle corrected, “is would you like to join her for a cup of coffee?”

“Oh I cou—” Again the denial came without thought, but she stopped. Why couldn’t she? She wouldn’t find her prince charming by being timid. “Yes, I meant what she said.”

He smiled, not with his mouth but with those incredible eyes. “This would be my wish, however, duty requires I remain here.”

“Of course.” Heat rushed to Amanda’s cheeks as his rejection registered. “You’re working.”

“May I have a rain coat? Perhaps tomorrow morning?”

“Rain check,” she gently corrected him. “I’d be delighted to meet you in the morning. There’s a decent coffee house two blocks from here.”

He inclined his head and they agreed on a time.

“Ladies, may I take your picture with Vivienne’s portrait? A memento of our meeting.”

“Of course.” Michelle gave Amanda no chance to answer. Hooking her arm through Amanda’s, she smiled as Xavier held up his phone and took the shot. After which he bowed and excused himself to return to work.

“You have a date with a foreign hottie,” Michelle chortled as soon as he stepped out of ear shot. “I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s only coffee.” Amanda down played the date, because she didn’t want to get too excited, even though her heartbeat drummed wildly and her palms were sweaty.

“It’s a date with a sexy, sophisticated man. And you don’t fool me. Inside you’re dancing on tiptoes.”

Amanda shook her head. But this was Michelle, so she finally came clean. “I totally am. Which is probably a huge mistake.” She gestured to the displays around them. “The exhibit is only here for six weeks.”

“Exactly. No time to get emotionally attached, but plenty of time to have fun. And if you’re lucky, you might get to celebrate your freedom with a foreign hottie in your new apartment.”

“That’s your inner strumpet talking.”

Michelle laughed. “You’re right.” Her gaze went to the painting of Vivienne. She looked from the picture to Amanda and back again. “Are you sure you’re not related to anyone in Pasadonia?”

“Not on my mother’s side. They’re Norwegian.”

“What about your father? You don’t know what your dad was. He could be Pasadonian.”

“Michelle, we’re not talking just anyone in Pasadonia.” Amanda pointed at the painting. “She’s the Prince’s great grandmother. We’re talking the royal family.”

“I know. Cool, huh?”

It was her turn to laugh. “Yeah right. I’m the long lost daughter to the Prince of Pasadonia.”

She had to scoff because they’d just tapped into one of her biggest childhood fantasies. She’d loved playing princess and often pretended to be rescued from her lonely existence by a prince who took her away to his beautiful castle.

Her mother had died from complications in childbirth, so Amanda was raised by her grandparents, who were in their late forties when she was born. They always maintained they didn’t know who her father was, that her mother never revealed his identity.

“Hey, your mom may have met him when he was on a trip to America. Or she could have had a European trip after college.”

“If she did, I’ve never heard of it.” Amanda sighed. “They rarely talk about her. Grandmother gets so withdrawn when I ask questions. I stopped asking long ago.”

Michelle muttered an unflattering word about grandmother and then wrapped Amanda in a hug. “Sorry, but I’ve never liked her since she refused to let you come back to Princess Camp. Plus, I know what it’s like to be in a stifling home situation. You do know Elle and I love you.”

“Yes, I do know.” Amanda squeezed her friend before stepping back. She’d been taught from birth to avoid public displays of affection. “I love you guys, too. But enough of this silliness. I have a date with a foreign hottie.”

“Yes, you do.” Michelle went with the change of subject. “What are you going to wear?”

“Oh no, you’re not going to do that to me. I’m not going to go mental over what I wear tomorrow. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“I don’t know how you can be so calm about such a big decision. Impressions matter.”

“I’ll be fine. I don’t own anything that won’t make a good impression.”

“Yeah. Now that you’re out on your own, we have to do something about that.”

“Sir?” Officer Bonnet appeared at Xavier’s side in answer to his summons.

“See the redhead leaving with the blond?” he indicated Amanda and her companion. “I want you to follow her. Discreetly. I want to know where she goes, what she does, and where she lives.”

“Yes, sir.” Bonnet turned to leave.

“Bonnet.” Xavier stopped the man. “Don’t let her see you.”

“Sir.” Bonnet nodded and moved after the women.

Xavier watched Amanda, she moved gracefully, her posture straight, elegant. It wasn’t hard to see her as a royal. She suddenly looked back and saw him. She gave a little wave.

Xavier inclined his head in acknowledgement. A moment later she was gone, Bonnet on her heels.

Xavier reached for his phone, dialed a long distance number. When a voice answered, he said, “It’s LeDuc. I need to speak to the Prince.”

CHAPTER TWO

AMANDA SAT OUTSIDE in the cool morning air. Spring bloomed around her, vibrant colors spilling from trellis boxes and potted planters up and down the street. She enjoyed this spot high on the hill with its view of the ocean. She enjoyed sitting in the fresh air.

And still she fiddled with the ruffled cuff of her sweater dress. Darn Michelle for making her self-conscious of her wardrobe choice. The soft gray mini dress with three rows of ruffles at the hem, paired with black high heeled boots and a flowing purple muffler was the perfect look for an idle Sunday morning.

So maybe it wasn’t her clothes choice making her nervous at all. Maybe it was the fact her hot date was late.

Not that Michelle was off the hook. Amanda went through five outfits before deciding on the gray dress. Nothing had felt right. And that wasn’t like her, neither the indecisiveness nor the fussiness. She had a long, lean frame that clothes loved, and a sense of style drilled into her by a grandmother obsessed with decorum and good taste.

“Amanda.” The deep voice made her name a caress. She looked up and there stood Xavier silhouetted against the morning sun, his shoulders broad beams in an expensive suit.

“Xavier,” she breathed. Oh get a grip, girl. No man respects a pushover.

“Good morning.” He reached for her hand, bent over it before taking his seat.

It was Old World gestures like that that got to her. He got to her—his somberness offset by an edgy dangerousness. She had no doubt he was very good at his job.

But she prided herself on being mature, so it was time to act like it.

“Please forgive my tardiness. A last-minute call from home.”

“I understand. It must be hard to be away for months at a time.”

“Yes.” He waved over a waitress, ordered coffee and a Danish. “However, I am a soldier. And it is a prestigious assignment. I am honored to serve my country.”

“A soldier?” she asked. “I thought you were a security officer.”

“I am an officer of the Garde royale à la Couronne. As were my father and his father before him and so on, for six generations.”

“A personal guard to the crown—impressive. The exhibit is lovely.” She gestured to the newspaper she’d brought with her. “The preview is a great success. You must be proud to be trusted with your country’s treasures. Your Prince must have great faith in you.”

He was silent for a moment and she worried she might have insulted him. But then he leaned forward as he reached for her hand and played with her fingers.

“That is exactly so. Though many people have felt that it was a lowly assignment.”

“I can’t see you ever being given a lowly assignment.”

He smiled, this time with both his eyes and mouth. She felt he’d given her a special gift.

“A soldier does both the big and the small, because it is all necessary to complete the mission. Of all the generations in my family, I made Commandant at the youngest age.”

“And that’s an accomplishment?” she asked, though she could see it was.

“Yes. My father is proud of me, my grandfather a little upset.”

She laughed and pointed at him. “And you are happy with both reactions.”

He shrugged, but a small smile curved the corner of his mouth. “For six generations a son in my father’s line has joined the Republican Guard. My family is proud of the exemplary service they have provided to the crown. It is important I demonstrate great skills to honor the Prince’s faith in me, and my family before me.”

“Wow. But no pressure, right?” He spoke with pride, but there was something, an underlying tension she picked up on that made her wonder if there was more to his story. It prompted her to ask, “What would you do if you weren’t a soldier?”

His expression went blank. She actually felt the question stunned him. He shrugged. “An engineer, perhaps, because I have always liked knowing how things work. However, there was never any question of this. It is my duty and my privilege to serve the Prince.” He inclined his head again. “But I am a boring topic. We shall speak of you now. What is it you do, Amanda Carn?”

“I’m the assistant curator for the Children’s Museum of Art and Science.” She lifted her orange juice. “I just celebrated my first year anniversary.”

“Congratulations.” He touched his mug to her glass.