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She touched his sleeve, her fingertips light as feathers. “Would you care to dance?”
Would he? He shouldn’t. Excuses rose to his lips. “I…”
“Please,” she said softly, her voice a mere silken whisper. “From your uniform I know you’re Korosolan, and I would be so grateful. See that man coming this way?” She gestured a manicured finger toward a man headed in their direction. His bright red hair offset his freckles and contrasted with his ill-fitting tuxedo. “That’s Larry Zimmer, and no matter how many times I say no, he can’t get the picture. Would you perform the duty of helping a lady in distress?”
“I would be honored to,” Harrison said. Under the guise of duty, he took the arm she offered. A frisson of desire shot through him as he guided her to the dance floor.
She linked her hands to his. “Thank you,” she said as another waltz began.
Harrison struggled to make light of the moment as he led her around the dance floor. “So you would rather dance with an old man to escape a young one?”
As if she found his comment funny, her smile widened. “What old man? You mean my grandfather? We danced earlier.”
Harrison returned her smile with one of his own. “I meant…”
“I know what you meant,” she said simply. Her green-eyed gaze held his. “But I figured you needed an excuse. If not, you may never have asked me.”
He wouldn’t have, either. “You’re right,” he admitted.
“I know,” she replied. “So I helped you along.”
Was this woman magic? She’d somehow seen right through him.
“I’m glad you did,” he said. And he was. For holding her felt as if he was holding a slice of heaven.
As the music shifted pace, he drew her a little closer. She smelled like roses, and her skin felt like the softest silk. There, during the moments on the dance floor, Harrison found himself feeling younger, feeling more alive than he’d been in years.
His fingers once grazed the small of her back, and an electric tremor shot through him as her eyes darkened to jade.
“You’re a wonderful dancer,” she said.
Speak again, Harrison thought, for to my ears your words are like the purest music.
“As are you,” he replied instead.
She simply acknowledged his return compliment with a slight inclination of her head.
Time never stops for love, Harrison thought as the musical number drew to an end.
“I believe he’s gone,” he whispered as he guided her off the dance floor.
“He is, but I’d still like to dance with you,” she said. “Perhaps this next number?”
“There you are!”
Harrison turned as King Easton came up to him. Being the same height, and after working with the king for such a long time, Harrison wondered why he hadn’t noticed the particular color of Easton’s eyes before. They reminded him of…
“I see you’ve met Lucia.”
Harrison turned to see whom Easton was referring to.
“Hello again, Grandfather,” Lucia replied. She kept her fingers lightly on Harrison’s arm. “Are you enjoying the reception?”
“Absolutely,” Easton replied. He gestured, and Harrison watched as his son, Devon, came forward. “Here she is, Devon. She was dancing with your father. Now take her out on the dance floor. Lucia’s too young to spend her time with all us elderly types.”
Harrison grimaced. How old that made him sound!
Lucia gently removed her fingers. “Thank you for the dance,” she said politely.
Devon gave her a low bow. “May I have this dance, Princess Lucia?”
“You may, Sir Montcalm,” she said as she took his arm.
Harrison watched her go. She glanced back over at him, and then as if remembering her role, she slid into a neutral facade and followed Devon’s lead.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” King Easton asked. “While I’m partial to CeCe’s beauty because she’s so much like my beloved Cassandra,” Easton mentioned his deceased wife, “one has to admit that Lucia has an innate beauty that is all her own.”
“Indeed,” Harrison somehow managed to agree noncommittally. The woman he had been dancing with was Princess Lucia!
“They make such a perfect couple.” Easton nodded with a contented smile. “Don’t you agree?”
Harrison looked at where his son held Lucia. She’d bowed her head, and was listening to something he said. A pang of jealousy shot through him. He tamped it down. His duty was, as always, to his king. “They make a good couple,” he stated, although his heart wasn’t anywhere near the words.
“I think so,” Easton said, obviously pleased that Lucia and Devon were beginning their second dance. “Ah, there’s Charlotte. Please excuse me, Harrison.”
Harrison bowed as the king moved away. Then he turned and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He’d had nothing to drink all evening, for Harrison never drank while in any type of royal capacity, but for tonight he’d make an exception with one glass.
After all, when the woman of your dreams is designated for your son, a little champagne can’t hurt.
“Shall we dance again?”
He tensed. He’d know her voice anywhere; already it had imbedded itself into his consciousness and into his soul.
“That wouldn’t be proper, Princess Lucia,” he replied, his tone deliberately cool.
“Proper?” Lucia frowned. Then a small tight smile came over her face. “Ah, Sir Harrison Mont-calm, man of duty, is back in full armor.” She saw his surprise. “Your son spent most of his time talking about you, and your many accomplishments.” She lifted a glass of champagne from a waiter and drained it in two gulps.
“Well, Sir Harrison Montcalm, I’m sure someone will fill you in that I’m not always proper. In fact, my date is that rock musician over there. I only brought him because it would annoy my mother, and keep her from playing matchmaker.”
With a thump, Lucia placed her empty champagne flute on a nearby table. Harrison winced for the flute.
“While I know all the correct etiquette, I find most of it boring and plain dull,” Lucia said.
She stepped toward him, her voice lowered for emphasis. “For some reason I thought you were different. I felt a connection between us, something I can’t exactly explain. I wanted to explore it, for whatever it was, I thought it was special.”
How her words hurt. Harrison so wanted to tell her that yes, he had felt it too. But duty came first. It always did.
Doing his duty meant he couldn’t tell her he’d felt it. He couldn’t even be with her. She was a princess.
As much as he wanted to tell her, to explain his reasoning, he kept silent.
For a brief second Lucia looked hurt, and Harrison’s stomach churned as her chin rose stubbornly.
“I could order you to dance, couldn’t I?” she asked, her gaze never leaving his.
“That you could, Princess.”
Lucia nodded, her look now bitterly disappointed. He hated hurting her. “I thought so. Good night, Sir Montcalm.”
And with that, she strode off toward her date, a man whose hair was longer than Lucia’s.
Harrison set his full flute of champagne down, the bubbly golden liquid untouched. Dancing with her had been a touch of heaven, but Harrison had learned long ago that heaven was not his to have.
He, retired general, Sir Harrison Montcalm, was one, too old for her, and two, not of her social circle. He could not ever have a relationship with a princess, especially the granddaughter of his king, his friend. With a heavy heart, he had turned away.
Chapter Two
The next day Lucia Carradigne was late for her interview.
Harrison paced the plush office allotted him during his stay at Korosol’s American embassy. Knowing he’d be seeing her again, he’d dressed even more impeccably than usual for the meeting. He wore a navy blue suit, a tie with the Korosolan crest and a white starched shirt.
Ellie had joked that morning that she’d never seen Harrison looking that put together. He’d run across Markus that morning as well, who since his return from Europe had been lurking around the embassy more than ever. Markus, of course, never missed an opportunity to dig at Harrison. He’d told Harrison he looked like a pallbearer.
Harrison glanced again at his Rolex, a gift from King Easton commemorating twenty-five years of service to the royal family.
Lucia Carradigne was now a half hour late.
A knock sounded at the door, and Harrison turned from where he’d been staring out the window at the United Nations Building.
“Come in,” he called.
“Harrison.” As Devon entered the room, Harrison’s face fell.
“Devon.” He greeted his twenty-eight-year-old son easily, although honestly he didn’t feel at ease around Devon. After Mary’s sudden death from pneumonia, he’d sent the then sixteen-year-old Devon to military school. His son, the serious young man in front of him, was now a man he barely knew.
They couldn’t be more apart, despite their similarities. Sure, they both had a military-cut hairstyle. Devon’s color was a lighter brown, and was minus the gray that graced Harrison’s head. They shared hazel eyes. But they didn’t share the closeness of a father and son.
One more of the regrets in his life, Harrison mused with a twinge of bitterness.
If Devon sensed his father’s thoughts, he didn’t indicate it. Instead, the captain of the Royal Guard and person in charge of Korosol security got right to business.
“I wanted you to know that I’m getting a little closer to where Krissy Katwell may be getting her information. I’ve been able to secure some of her telephone records,” Devon said.
“Legally, of course,” Harrison interjected. Inwardly he winced when he saw Devon’s expression. Of course his son would do things legally. Devon was a by-the-book type of man.
“Of course,” Devon said, quickly covering up his own hurt at being second-guessed by his father.
“Good work,” Harrison said, trying to repair his gaffe. “I’m sure you’re quite on top of things.”
“Yes,” Devon replied. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “King Easton sent me down here. He said that you were interviewing Princess Lucia and he suggested that it might be to my benefit for security reasons to be present for the interview.”
Another matchmaking attempt, Harrison thought with an inward groan. He studied his son thoughtfully for a moment. Devon didn’t seem too keen, or too overly eager, to be a part of the interview.
But then, Devon would do what the king wished, no matter what his personal feelings were. Besides, if Devon had personal feelings for the princess, Harrison doubted his son would share them with his father. They’d never been close enough to have ever once shared personal confidences.
“I think I can handle it on my own,” Harrison said smoothly. “I believe having to face two Mont-calm men might be a bit overwhelming, even for a princess.”
“True.” Devon nodded. “But King Easton was most insistent.”
“I’ll explain your absence to the king,” Harrison said, sealing his own fate irrevocably. “Right now your time is better spent on discovering where Krissy Katwell is getting her information. You know from our meeting earlier this week about Easton and my suspicions as to her source, and hence, time is of the essence. Krissy Katwell has already done quite a bit of damage to the Carradigne name. She needs to be stopped, and her source silenced.”
“Understood.” Devon deferred to the judgment of his father, and technically his superior in rank. “I’ll report back to you as soon as I know more.”
“Very good.” Harrison glanced at his watch again. He frowned. Lucia was now forty-five minutes late.
Not a good sign for someone who wanted to be queen. He glanced up at Devon, who was still standing in the office.
Devon had a strange, questioning look on his face as he studied his father. “Harrison, is something wrong?”
It had always bothered Harrison that Devon never called him “Dad” or even “Father.” But he didn’t dwell on that now. “Princess Lucia was supposed to be here at three.”
Devon frowned. As captain of the Royal Guard, his concern was immediate. “Do you think something has happened to her?”
No. She’s making me pay for rejecting her. She’s proving who is boss. The insight hit Harrison like a freight train. Being late was the oldest female trick in the book, and here he was, pacing his office and checking his watch every minute.
As quickly as it had come, he dismissed the thought. Lucia didn’t strike him as being like that. He contemplated his gut reaction a moment. Instinct told him that Lucia was nothing like Mary. Devon’s mother had used those tricks many times. Harrison’s instinct was never wrong.
“I think the princess is just running behind,” Harrison replied, giving Lucia the benefit of the doubt. “She’s a very busy lady, and I’m sure she got caught up in something that was unavoidable.”
Devon nodded. “If she doesn’t show soon, let me know and I’ll find out what’s wrong.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
At the silken female voice, both men turned toward the doorway. Harrison sucked in his breath.
Time away from her hadn’t diminished his first impressions. As always, she was beautiful. Her dark blond hair fell to her shoulders, and her green eyes darkened as her gaze found Harrison.
“Hello, Harrison,” she said.
Belatedly, Harrison remembered he needed to bow. He and Devon both scrambled and bowed low.
“Princess Lucia.” Harrison tried to maintain a formal tone as he straightened. “Please come in. It’s good to see you.” He reached for the coat she was shedding.
She gave him a genuine smile as her fingers lightly touched his while transferring the garment. “It’s good to see you too, Harrison. I trust I’m finding you well?”
“Of course,” he said, realizing too late that somehow she’d already gained the upper hand by again calling him by his first name.
“Are you going to be present for this interview, Sir Devon?” As Lucia turned and faced the younger man, Harrison took a moment to study what Lucia wore. He’d heard she usually wore bohemian-type clothing, like flowing skirts and peasant blouses. But today was different. Like at the wedding reception, she appeared regal, refined. Her pale pink trouser suit celebrated the start of spring. The color suited her.
“No, Princess. I was just leaving. If you’d please excuse me.” Devon bowed again and posted a hasty retreat.
Lucia turned and faced Harrison. He managed to swallow, and somehow years of training kept his face immobile. That was until she turned on the charm and smiled widely again the moment they were alone. “Yes, I must say that it’s good to see you, Harrison. I’ve been looking forward to this interview ever since my grandfather called me and told me about it.”
Harrison somehow managed an appropriate gesture to a seat. As Lucia sat down, her perfume wafted past him. She smelled like roses again.
She looked expectantly at him. “So if you’re ready?”
Inwardly Harrison groaned. Where Lucia was concerned, he doubted he would ever be ready.
SHE HADN’T MEANT to be late. But someone had slipped down onto the subway tracks, delaying the trains uptown for a good half hour.
Lucia settled herself into the chair as Harrison brought her a glass of ice water. Perhaps she should have taken a taxicab as her mother always insisted. After all, as the past two months had demonstrated, she was a princess, and therefore she could technically be a target of a kidnapping attempt. But still Lucia valued her anonymity too much to give it up yet.
She thrived in New York City’s sea of anonymous faces. A people-watcher by nature, Lucia credited a lot of her creative genius to just watching the interactions of the everyday world. The panhandler holding the cup in Times Square had inspired a collection of dimpled platinum pins. The mother nursing her child on a Central Park bench had inspired a series of interlocking linked gold bracelets with birthstones.
Even today, the successful rescue mission had been, in a sense, inspirational. New Yorkers working together—Lucia could already visualize the brooches of intertwined pieces of silver and gold metal.
If only she and Harrison could work together. Couldn’t he feel the frisson of electricity that passed through their fingertips every time they touched, like now as he handed her the water?
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” Harrison replied. As he sat down across from her, she took a minute to sip her water and study him.
What was it about this man? Ever since she’d first set eyes on him, from across the dance floor, everything about him had impressed her.
She’d never been partial to short, military-style haircuts, but on Harrison, she couldn’t imagine any other thing. She’d never even thought she’d be attracted to a military man. They were too by the book, too punctual, too precise. But, with what little she’d learned of Harrison since the wedding reception, she couldn’t imagine him any other way.
“I’ve rescheduled my four-o’clock appointment so we have all the time necessary,” Harrison told her.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lucia began. Then she stopped. She was a princess. Of course he would reschedule for her. But she didn’t like the idea that he thought she’d deliberately been late. Perhaps she should tell him about the subway. She sipped her water and contemplated it for a moment. No, just like her mother, he’d probably disapprove of her public-transport choices. She kept silent.
“I must ask your pardon for the nature of the questions that I’m going to have to ask, Princess,” Harrison said. “Some of them may be personal. You, of course, do not need to answer any that you do not wish to. This is not an interrogation.”
“Yes, my grandfather explained it to me.” Lucia nodded. “He wants to determine my suitability. After my sisters, I don’t blame him.”
Harrison arched his eyebrows. “You don’t? Excuse me, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“You can ask what you wish,” Lucia said. “And of course, I do not blame my grandfather, especially after what’s happened.” Lucia shook her head vigorously, which caused her hair to fall in her face. She brushed the blond strands back. “CeCe was pregnant, and Amelia already secretly married. I just hope I don’t disappoint him as well. Whereas my grandfather and I have not seen each other in years, I do care for him a great deal.”
“Well.” Harrison coughed. “Your suitability is what we’ll try to determine. First, if King Easton does declare you his heir, I must know if you are willing to accept the full role and all it entails. Are you willing to be the queen of Korosol?”
Was she? For a moment Lucia thought of her mother. Now that Charlotte had warmed to the idea of one of her daughters being queen, Charlotte had become like a dog with a meaty bone. Lucia knew that, in her mother’s eyes, she was it. Charlotte had been on Lucia’s case for days, warning her not to mess this opportunity up.
Maybe for once she wouldn’t disappoint her mother in something. Whereas her mother might wish Lucia queen, Lucia herself still had doubts. “I am quite prepared to fulfill the role if King Easton chooses me,” Lucia said, proud she managed to deliver the words without a betraying quiver in her voice.
“Then we begin,” Harrison said.
Lucia simply nodded, and for one childish moment wished she had someone there to hold her hand.
“Again, Princess, I ask your pardon in the nature of these questions, but I must ask you about your ex-fiancé Gregory Barrett and the allegations he made in Krissy Katwell’s column.”
“That what, I’m a fast-and-loose woman? In his dreams.” Hackles rose on Lucia’s spine. Realizing what her outburst must have sounded like, she covered her mouth with her fingers. “Sorry, that’s not very princesslike, but whenever I think of him, well…” She shuddered with revulsion.
“Why don’t you tell me about him?”
“The man is a liar and a cheat.” Lucia leaned forward, suddenly desperate to have Harrison’s approval. “I was twenty-three when we met at some art gallery premiere one of my mother’s favorite charities was hosting. I’m not sure what the cause was.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Harrison said. He reached forward and took a Cross pen and leather portfolio off an occasional table. “Please continue.”
She watched his fingers and thumb roll the pen between them. “You’re going to take notes?”
Harrison looked up, and Lucia saw the surprise he quickly masked, as if his reach for the items had been more of a protective device—a need to occupy his hands as if to calm nerves. “If you don’t mind. King Easton wants a full report.”
Lucia thought for a moment. Did she make him nervous? She’d have to contemplate that more at a later time. “No, I don’t mind.” She bit her lower lip, and then she remembered that her mother had scolded her out of that habit long ago. She set her lip free. “Gregory seemed to be just the type a girl could bring home to Mother, and actually, I guess that’s what I found attractive about him. Mother and I don’t necessarily have the best relationship.”
She turned to Harrison. “How does that happen?”
“What?” Harrison asked. He stopped writing, and his hazel gaze connected with Lucia’s.
“Well, two people are related by blood yet they seem to have absolutely nothing in common. I mean, look at you and Devon. He’s following in your footsteps and obviously worships you. I’m just trouble with a capital T to my mother.”
Harrison set the pen down. “I doubt your mother thinks that.”
“Oh, she does.” Lucia nodded, her hair falling in her face again. “When I chose not to go into the shipping business, I heard how much of a disappointment I was to her. I mean, she’s devoted all her life to the family company and building it. She’s the head of it, and it’s more her baby than I am. She was not happy with my choice.”
“Parents sometimes say things that they don’t mean,” Harrison said.
“It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t understand. Devon is such a success and a credit to you.”
“I’m far from the ideal father.” The admission spilled from Harrison’s mouth before he could stop it.
Lucia raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I can’t believe that.”
“Believe it.” The cat already out of the bag, Harrison cocked his head and gave Lucia a wry smile. “I failed not only my wife but my son as well. If I’d been any type of good father I would have known what to do with my son when his mother died. Instead, I shipped him off at age sixteen to the military academy. So don’t judge your mother so harshly. Perhaps she only thought she was doing what was best.”
Lucia smiled and the movement lit up her whole face. “You know, you may be right,” Lucia said finally. “My mother did work very hard to keep the shipping business going so that we could be raised in the proper environment befitting what my father would have wished. I just wish that included letting us visit Korosol, though. Since my father’s death she’s sworn off going again and so I don’t remember anything about it. I was too young.”
“It’s lovely there,” Harrison told her honestly.
“Tell me about it,” she said.
“I’ve never seen water so clear, grass so green or flowers so yellow,” Harrison said. “Part of the country is the Larella Mountains, and part is on the Mediterranean coast. There the beaches are the whitest and softest sand.”
“I’ve seen pictures,” Lucia said, “and it looks lovely. Once I even ordered the tourist brochures on the village of Aladair. I never did get to visit, though.”
Harrison smiled at her. “I’ve traveled the world, and to me, it will always be home. I can’t imagine living any other place. I guess I get my energy from the land.”
Lucia nodded. “Like Scarlett O’Hara.”
“Who?”
“The heroine in Gone With the Wind. She got her strength from the red earth of her plantation, Tara. You mean you’ve never seen the movie? It’s one of my all-time favorites.”
“Uh, no,” Harrison admitted. With his military career, he hadn’t had time to see many movies, even on video.