- -
- 100%
- +
It was joy he was seeing and hearing.
His children and Annie were laughing as they pounded snow into balls and tossed them at each other.
Annie looked at him then, and something between them connected and he nearly smiled back. What would it feel like, Hans wondered, to just give in to the urge to take her into his arms? What would it be like to kiss her? He was overwhelmed by the urge to try. God, she was lovely. Maybe it was the soft light, or the drifting snow, or the crisp chill air, but suddenly Annie looked delicious enough to eat.
And he was hungry….
For every woman who dreamed of a prince…
Emma and the Earl (SR #1410)
Plain Jane Marries the Boss (SR #1416)
Annie and the Prince (SR #1423)
Dear Reader,
The year 2000 marks the twentieth anniversary of Silhouette Books! Ever since May 1980, Silhouette Books—and its flagship line, Silhouette Romance—has published the best in contemporary category romance fiction. And the year’s stellar lineups across all Silhouette series continue that tradition.
This month in Silhouette Romance, Susan Meier unveils her miniseries BREWSTER BABY BOOM, in which three brothers confront instant fatherhood after inheriting six-month-old triplets! First up is The Baby Bequest, in which Evan Brewster does diaper duty…and learns a thing or two about love from his much-younger, mommy-in-the-making assistant. In Teresa Southwick’s charming new Silhouette Romance novel, a tall, dark and handsome man decides to woo a jaded nurse With a Little T.L.C. The Sheik’s Solution is a green-card marriage to his efficient secretary in this lavish fairy tale from Barbara McMahon.
Elizabeth Harbison’s CINDERELLA BRIDES series continues with the magnificent Annie and the Prince. In Cara Colter’s dramatic A Babe in the Woods, a mystery man arrives on a reclusive woman’s doorstep with a babe on his back—and a gun in his backpack! Then we have a man without a memory who returns to his Prim, Proper…Pregnant former fiancée—this unique story by Alice Sharpe is a must-read for those who love twists and turns.
In coming months, look for special titles by longtime favorites Diana Palmer, Joan Hohl, Kasey Michaels, Dixie Browning, Phyllis Halldorson and Tracy Sinclair, as well as many newer but equally loved authors. It’s an exciting year for Silhouette Books, and we invite you to join the celebration!
Happy reading!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor
www.millsandboon.co.uk
To two of the finest men who ever walked this earth:
John Edward McShulskis (1932-1983)
and
John Anthony McShulskis (1910-1998)
Lives well lived.
I’m so proud to have had such great men as my father
and grandfather.
Books by Elizabeth Harbison
Silhouette Romance
A Groom for Maggie #1239
Wife Without a Past #1258
Two Brothers and a Bride #1286
True Love Ranch #1323
*Emma and the Earl #1410
*Plain Jane Marries the Boss #1416
*Annie and the Prince #1423
ELIZABETH HARBISON
has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. After devouring the Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden series in grade school, she moved on to the suspense of Mary Stewart, Dorothy Eden and Daphne du Maurier, just to name a few. From there it was a natural progression to writing, although early efforts have been securely hidden away in the back of a closet.
After authoring three cookbooks, Elizabeth turned her hand to writing romances and hasn’t looked back. Her second book for Silhouette Romance, Wife Without a Past, was a 1998 finalist for the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Award in the “Best Traditional Romance” category.
Elizabeth lives in Maryland with her husband, John, and daughter, Mary Paige, as well as two dogs, Bailey and Zuzu. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Box 1636, Germantown, MD 20875.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Prologue
“Oh, Annie, I can’t believe you’re going! Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Quitting your job and just taking off for Europe this way?”
Annie Barimer looked at her friend, Joy Simon, who worked in the admissions office at Pendleton School for Girls. Annie, until this very moment, had been the school librarian there for five years. “I’m sure, Joy,” she said, without a trace of the melancholy Joy had etched all over her face. “Besides, I’m not just ‘taking off for Europe’, as you well know. I’m going to travel for one short week.” It was hard to contain her glee. France! Germany! She was finally going to the places she’d wanted to see for so long. The week would pass very fast. “Then I go to Kublenstein and start my new job.”
“For strangers.” Joy sniffed dramatically and took another piece of the sheet cake the staff had bought for Annie’s farewell party. She scooped some soupy ice cream onto the paper plate. “Who knows what they’re like? They may be a family of psycho killers.”
“They are the daughters of Marie de la Fuenza,” Annie corrected.
“Right. And what do we know about her?”
“We know that twenty years ago she attended Pendleton for the full four years and that her mother also attended. Plus her family virtually paid for the library.” She raised an eyebrow at Joy. “I think we can trust them.”
Joy wasn’t convinced. “You’ve got to admit they’ve been a little cryptic about the job. It’s always the daughters of Marie de la Fuenza. What’s her married name? What are the daughters’ names? Why is everything addressed through the embassy in Kublenstein instead of a home address? Where is Kublenstein anyway?”
“It’s in the Alps,” Annie answered, refusing to be troubled by Joy’s other admittedly good points. “And her husband is an important figure in the government there or something, so everything is being arranged very carefully.”
Joy shrugged. “Well, I still don’t see what’s wrong with staying right here at Pendleton.”
“I’ve been wanting to go to Europe all my life but this is the first chance I’ve ever gotten to actually go live there for awhile and get paid for it.” Pictures of the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Parthenon, the Colosseum and a million other grand European landmarks danced in her head. The dreary little town of Pendleborough couldn’t compare on any level. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
“Somehow I knew you’d say that.”
Annie laughed and pulled back a tendril of coffee-colored hair that had escaped from her braid and kept tickling her cheek. “I’ve only said it a thousand times.” A couple of teachers from the math department walked past, patted her shoulder and wished her luck. She thanked them and turned back to Joy and the conversation at hand. “Look, this is a dream come true. Be happy for me.”
Joy raised her hands in front of her. “All right, all right. To be honest, I’m not worried about you in Europe at all, I’m worried about me, here. I’m going to be bored out of my mind when you’re gone.”
“I’ll write,” Annie told her sincerely. She imagined herself printing the Pendleton address on an envelope from thousands of miles away. The idea made her feel giddy, even though Joy would prefer the immediacy of e-mail. “I promise.”
Joy put a piece of cake into her mouth and nodded. “That’s what you say now.” She held up a finger, swallowed, then added, “But what happens when you find your Prince Charming over there and get so wrapped up in a romance that you forget about writing, hmm?”
“So that’s where Prince Charming is,” Annie said, with mock surprise. “Stupid me, I’ve been kissing frogs on the wrong side of the Atlantic for twenty-five years.”
Joy raised an eyebrow. “Laugh if you want to, but I have a feeling you’re going to meet someone there. Someone romantically significant. You might never come back!”
Annie was sure Joy couldn’t have been further off the mark. She couldn’t even imagine meeting the man of her dreams overseas and never coming back…though the idea had some appeal as a fantasy. “You’re right that I’ll be meeting someone. Actually, two someones. Marie de la Fuenza’s daughters. I hate to disillusion you, but I’m going to have no time for any kind of social life at all.” It was true. Even if she was the extroverted type who’d go out and meet people to party with, she wasn’t going to have time for it with this job.
“Remember that tarot card reading I did for you?” Joy asked. “It said you were going to meet a very important and powerful man. That card was in the love position.”
Annie thought about it, then recalled what her friend was talking about. “Joy, that was just a prank for the school fair. Surely you don’t believe in any of that stuff. For heaven’s sake, you were reading it right out of a book.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. Besides, my psychic feelings have been right before,” Joy said, hurt.
“When?”
“I told you Judy Gallagher was pregnant.”
It was on the tip of Annie’s tongue to point out that everyone had realized Judy was pregnant as soon as she started bolting from her first period Social Studies class for the bathroom every morning. Instead, Annie gave a concessionary nod. “That’s true, you did.”
“And I’m right about this, too. You mark my words.”
“Duly marked.”
“Besides, you need to meet a guy. You need to have someone to support you in a year when your job tutoring English ends and you’re out of work.”
“It’s not always that easy to find someone.”
Joy sighed. “So…what are you wearing on the plane?”
Annie laughed. Joy’s greatest pleasure in life, next to food, was fashion. And she was quite good at it, too, if not exactly a willowy fashion plate herself.
“I’m wearing this,” Annie answered, indicating the comfy cotton sweater and leggings she was wearing.
“Honestly, you have this great figure and you never do anything to emphasize it. It’s so unfair. Maybe you should take me along to advise you.”
“I’m sure I should.”
There was a faint honking outside the door. Annie moved to look out the window. A yellow cab had pulled up in the courtyard in front of the library building.
“Cab’s here,” someone called, just as Annie saw it.
“Time to go, I guess.”
“Looks like it,” Joy said miserably.
Annie couldn’t commiserate. Her heart felt as light as air. In fact, it was fluttering just like a bird from the excitement. This wasn’t regular anticipation. Annie was feeling like her whole life was about to change forever.
Could there possibly be something to Joy’s prediction?
She took a steady breath and gave Joy a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t look so sad. I promised I would write to you and I will.”
“You better. Have you got the digital camera I gave you?”
“All packed.”
“Good. Take pictures. E-mail them to me. You remember how I showed you?”
“I remember.” Annie moved to get in the back seat, waving to the people who had congregated to watch her go.
“And don’t forget to tell me all about him,” Joy added significantly.
Annie’s face warmed. As soon as the cab drove away, people would pounce on Joy to find out what that comment had meant. Oh, well, let them. Maybe she even preferred it that way.
After all, this was the end of Annie—Boring Librarian and the beginning of Annie—Woman of the World.
Chapter One
Why was she feeling so apprehensive? Annie wondered. She sighed and leaned against the train window, watching the Alpine countryside whip by as they sped toward Lassberg, the capital of the tiny European country of Kublenstein. True, things hadn’t worked out well with her hotel in Paris, and Germany had turned out to be more expensive than she could afford. But now she was headed to Kublenstein two days earlier than expected so she could get the lay of the land before meeting her new employers.
It would be nice. She hadn’t been on a real vacation since she was six and had gone to a local amusement park a couple of towns over from her Maryland home. Since high school she’d just been treading water, working to stay afloat and to pay the never-ending cycle of bills. All of that would change, now. She had a good job in what was apparently a wonderful household in Europe. It was just what she’d always dreamed of.
But as the train rails rattled under her feet, she dissected her plan for the hundredth time and couldn’t see one thing in it that should make her stomach feel like it was full of bats.
The train lurched and a young man with pale blond hair and a large rucksack on his back knocked against her, spilling hot drops of coffee on her blouse. “Very sorry, ma’am,” he said, with a light Scandinavian accent.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly, but he had already moved on, not having waited for a response. She pushed her heavy reading glasses back up the bridge of her nose and rummaged through her bag for a tissue. She hated being called ma’am, especially by people who were only a few years younger than she was. And how did he know to speak English? She must look very American.
She dabbed at the coffee with a sigh. The stain remained. She balled the tissue up, put it in the trash receptacle, and tried to return her attention to the book in her lap, but it was difficult. The train was noisy and hot, and so humid that the air almost felt damp against her skin. The coffee stain did.
After one or two unsuccessful tries to concentrate on the book in her hand, she set it back down in her lap and let her mind wander to more familiar thoughts of home. If she’d stayed, she’d be in her small, chilly apartment now, watching the news and eating leftover Chinese food. In the morning, her alarm would go off at 6:50 a.m. and she’d shower and drive to work. Not that that was totally unfulfilling. As librarians went, she was an exceptionally good one. She always enjoyed helping students find more creative ways to look at their assignments. She encouraged them to take the harder route in order to learn more and she loved to help them find strong role models in heroic characters from literature.
Unfortunately, at Pendleton that was often considered ‘pushing the envelope’ and she’d been told more than once by members of the very conservative board of directors to leave the teaching to the teachers.
It was distinctly possible that if she hadn’t resigned when she did the board would have asked the headmaster, Lawrence Pegrin, to dismiss her. Lawrence had had some stern words for her about her tutoring methods more than once, though she suspected he secretly approved. In fact, when Marie de la Fuenza’s husband had contacted the school looking for a suitable English tutor and nanny, Lawrence had suggested Annie without hesitation. In a private conversation he’d assured her that if it didn’t work out she could return to Pendleton, regardless of what the board of directors wished.
That was some comfort, though not quite enough to make her relax now. It was almost as if she was having some sort of premonition, but she couldn’t decipher it. Was something horrible about to happen? Or something wonderful? It was such a fine line between excitement and fear.
Looking at the passing scenery, Annie thought if a fairy tale could come true, this would be the place for it. The mountains stretched high toward the steel-gray sky, huge triangles of shadow and snow. Ancient evergreens with white snow fingertips stood indomitably, as they had done for thousands of years. It was a landscape for the Brothers Grimm, as dreamy as clouds, yet with a healthy hint of the gothic snaking through the hazy shadows of the deep woodlands.
As the miles of icy black forest rolled by she looked around at the other coach passengers. There seemed to be thousands of them, and at least half looked like college students, faces aglow with the excitement of travel and with voices loud and enthusiastic.
Suddenly Annie felt claustrophobic from it all. If she had to stay in this hot, crowded car for one more moment she’d stop breathing. She decided to see if there was another car farther up with fewer people.
She shoved her book into her bag, got up and hauled her two suitcases onto the link between cars where there was a tiny bathroom. The air was cooler immediately. She’d rather stand here for the rest of the trip than go back to the crowded coach car, though it was probably against the rules. Unfortunately, she’d have to shlep her heavy bags with her through the cars until she found someplace else to sit.
But first she was going to try to get rid of the still-damp coffee stain on her shirt. She slipped into the minute bathroom and wedged the door open with her foot so she could keep an eye on her bags. The stiff paper towels were practically water resistant, but she was able to get most of the coffee out of the fabric. What was left, she noted with a sigh, was a huge collection of watermarks.
She stepped out of the bathroom and went to an open window between the cars and breathed in the frigid air. She took another deep breath and hoisted up her bags again, opening the door to the next car with her shoulder. It was strangely empty and deliciously quiet. She realized immediately it was a first-class car. The private cubicles were tempting with their closed doors, cushioned seats, and tiny wall lights giving off a warm glow against the chill gray landscape outside. It was impossible to resist. On impulse, she decided to go into one of the compartments and languish there as a first-class passenger until they got to Lassberg or until someone kicked her out. After all, it wasn’t like stealing. If she didn’t use one, it would just go on being empty.
Suddenly she noticed an extraordinarily handsome man in the compartment before her. He was alone. It was obvious no one was coming back to sit with him. Something about his posture suggested detachment. Isolation. She craned her neck to try and see his hands. No ring, just as she’d guessed.
She caught her breath. If only she were the type of woman a man like this would look at twice. Dreamer, she chastised herself. She hadn’t been the type to catch a man’s eye in all of her twenty-five years, and it wasn’t likely to happen now, especially with an Adonis like the one she was looking at.
Still, she had been swept up in the fairy-tale atmosphere of the Alps and the memory of Joy’s prediction. Why not go with it, just for another moment? She touched her finger to the door. “Maybe you’d be my Prince Charming,” she said under her breath, her words fogging the glass. “If fairy godmothers really existed.” She gave a slight laugh. “And if it wasn’t so heinous for a modern woman to want a Prince Charming.”
The man’s profile, illuminated by the little orange glow of the reading lights, was arresting. The nose was straight and long, his cheekbones beautifully pronounced and his jaw was square and strong. His gleaming hair was as dark as Heathcliff’s in Wuthering Heights. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but the lashes were long and dark and she was certain his expression was brooding.
On the surface he looked like an ordinary guy, wearing an old pair of jeans and a ragged wool sweater. It seemed a little strange that he was in first class—he could almost have passed for one of the students in the other car except that he was older. There was a regal quality about him that gave Annie the impression that he was right at home in the elegant accommodations.
Clack clack sheesh clack clack sheesh, the train rumbled beneath her feet racing across the miles of picturesque countryside. The door to his compartment was open just a crack. Someone with more nerve than Annie would have walked right in and sat down.
She nearly laughed at the very idea of herself doing something like that. It was completely unlike her. If she did it, if she could gather enough nerve just to go for it, it would be baptism by fire, but—
“Excuse me, miss, may I have your ticket please?” a cheery, loud German voice called behind her.
She whirled around to face a short, round, uniformed railroad employee. One hand was filled with passenger tickets that he’d already collected, his other hand was extended toward Annie expectantly.
“Yes…I…” Her face flamed as she thought, for one wild moment, that he might have known what she’d been contemplating. She fumbled awkwardly through her purse, looking for the first-class ticket she knew wasn’t in there and hoping for the coach-class ticket that should have been. She switched from English to German and said, “One moment. It’s in here somewhere.”
She glanced up and the train employee lowered his brow.
“Really.” She dug some more, feeling more hopeless by the second of ever finding the ticket. “I bought it right before I got on board in Munich.” She prayed silently that the Greek god in the private compartment wasn’t watching. He probably was, after all the door to his compartment was nearly all glass and she was right in front of it.
The train conductor shifted his weight and crossed his arms in front of him. “Come now, miss, you can purchase your ticket on board. It’s four hundred marks.”
Annie felt her blood drain to her feet. “Four hundred—” The train suddenly lurched and she lost her balance, teetering momentarily against the door to the mystery man’s compartment before it flew open, sending her sprawling onto the hard metal floor in front of the man himself, her glasses clattering on the floor beside her.
“I’m sorry.” Annie felt around for her glasses and, finding them, put them on. She met the man’s eyes, which were green and even more intense than she possibly could have imagined, and mentally shrank to about two inches tall.
The man shifted in his seat, watching with what appeared to be some interest. Those incredible eyes flicked from her to the angry-looking train official and back again, but he said nothing.
“I’m so sorry.” Annie scrambled to her feet, and tried to smile.
He smiled back and cocked his head slightly, as if questioning what she did for an encore. “Quite all right,” he said smoothly.
He took her breath away and made her lose all track of what she was going to say. “I was…”
The train employee cleared his throat, an unpleasant reminder of the other presence in the compartment.
She turned to him and said, “I’ve got my ticket here someplace.”
Both men looked at her, so she made another attempt at finding her ticket in her bag. It was nowhere to be seen. In English, she muttered a mild oath that would, nevertheless, have gotten a student at Pendleton sent to the headmaster’s office.
The ticket collector frowned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to purchase a ticket, miss.”
“She said she has a ticket already,” the other man said, in a voice as rich and smooth as crème brûlée. His German was slightly accented, but Annie couldn’t tell what the inflection was.
“Policy, sir.” The little round face grew redder. “I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them.”