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Princess Giselle didn’t know his real name or anything about him. She only knew he had made her feel utterly alive and desirable
Would she feel the same once the masks were off? The mystery might be what made him so enticing. Somehow, she doubted it. Something in him had called her, soul to soul, like a voice in her mind, promising the earth if only she was open to the possibilities….
She wanted to meet him, to stare into his eyes and discover if the spell was really there, or only existed in her mind.
Midnight was only seconds away and some people were already reaching to undo their masks. Her gaze became frantic. Where was he?
Laughter bubbled around her as faces were revealed, some expected, some obviously causing surprise. Nowhere could she see her mystery man.
He had vanished as if into her imagination.
Dear Reader,
Egad! This month we’re up to our eyeballs in royal romances!
In Fill-In Fiancée (#1694) by DeAnna Talcott, a British lord pretends marriage to satisfy his parents. But will the hasty union last? Only time will tell, but matchmaker Emily Winters has her fingers crossed and so do we! This is the third title of Silhouette Romance’s exclusive six-book series, MARRYING THE BOSS’S DAUGHTER.
In The Princess & the Masked Man (#1695), the second book of Valerie Parv’s THE CARRAMER TRUST miniseries, a clever princess snares the affections of a mysterious single father. Look out for the final episode in this enchanting royal saga next month.
Be sure to make room on your reading list for at least one more royal. To Wed a Sheik (#1696) is the last title in Teresa Southwick’s exciting DESERT BRIDES series. A jaded desert prince is no match for a beautiful American nurse in this tender and exotic romance.
But if all these royal romances have put you in the mood for a good old-fashioned American love story, look no further than West Texas Bride (#1697) by bestselling author Madeline Baker. It’s the story of a city girl who turns a little bit country to win the heart of her brooding cowboy hero.
Enjoy!
Mavis C. Allen
Associate Senior Editor
www.millsandboon.co.uk
For the wonderful hosts at Mills & Boon who keep us in touch and on our toes.
Books by Valerie Parv
Silhouette Romance
The Leopard Tree #507
The Billionaire’s Baby Chase #1270
Baby Wishes and Bachelor Kisses #1313
*The Monarch’s Son #1459
*The Prince’s Bride-To-Be #1465
*The Princess’s Proposal #1471
Booties and the Beast #1501
Code Name: Prince #1516
†Crowns and a Cradle #1621
†The Baron & the Bodyguard #1627
†The Marquis and the Mother-to-Be #1633
††The Viscount & the Virgin #1691
††The Princess & the Masked Man #1695
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Interrupted Lullaby #1095
Royal Spy #1154
VALERIE PARV
With 20 million copies of her books sold, including three Waldenbooks’ bestsellers, it’s no wonder Valerie Parv is known as Australia’s queen of romance, and is the recognized media spokesperson for all things romantic. Valerie is married to her own romantic hero, Paul, a formal crocodile hunter in Australia’s tropical north.
These days he’s a cartoonist and the two live in the country’s capital city of Canberra, where both are volunteer zoo guides, sharing their love of animals with visitors from all over the world. Valerie continues to write her page-turning novels because they affirm her belief in love and happy endings. As she says, “Love gives you wings, romance helps you fly.” Keep up with Valerie’s latest releases at www.silromanceauthors.com.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Prologue
Bryce Laws fumbled with his black tie and bit his tongue to keep from swearing out loud. “You could lend a hand instead of watching me suffer,” he grumbled.
His daughter crossed the room with a grace that belied her ten years. Reaching up, she tied the tie with deft efficiency. “There, how’s that?”
He regarded the neat result in the mirror. He still looked like a penguin, but at least he was a properly attired one. “The ability to tie one of these things must be bred into women. Your mother…”
Hearing his voice tail off, Amanda smiled wanly. “It’s okay, Dad, you can talk about her. I won’t come apart on you. I’m over that now.”
The harshness of her words didn’t conceal the hurt he heard beneath them. “You still miss her, don’t you, chicken?” He certainly did, even two years on.
“Sure. She wouldn’t have let you bring me to this place.”
He dropped a hand to her shoulder. How delicate she was, this half child, half woman he had sired. Yvette’s long illness had forced Amanda to grow up far too quickly. He had hoped taking a job at Merrisand Castle and giving her the opportunity to act her age around other children would give her back some of her interrupted childhood. After a month at Merrisand, the plan wasn’t working too well. “You’re still determined to hate the castle?”
She affected a shrug. “The deer park is cool. It reminds me of our old place. Sometimes I pretend we’re back there and everything’s the way it was. But the castle school stinks.”
She wasn’t the only one who regretted the changes in their life, he thought. He had also loved Eden Valley, their property on the beautiful, fertile island of Nuee. When his parents returned to America to be with his grandfather after a yachting accident had left him confined to a wheelchair, Bryce had taken over management of the ranch. Amanda had been three then, Yvette had been healthy and as excited as he was at the prospect of having Eden Valley to themselves. It hadn’t exactly turned out the way they’d dreamed.
He shrugged into the jacket of his dinner suit. There were some things he wouldn’t want back the way they had been, such as his grandfather’s constant interference from afar. Amanda didn’t know how frustrated Bryce had been, having the old man second-guess him about every major decision.
Reminding Karl Laws that Bryce and his parents were also shareholders in the family company that owned Eden Valley hadn’t helped. As long as Karl held the controlling interest—controlling being the operative word—he was the real boss. From his wheelchair, he ruled the American side of the Laws business empire through his son, and the Carramer side through his grandson.
No, there were some things Bryce didn’t miss.
He pulled himself back to the present. “Define stinks.”
Amanda made a face. “The castle school is soooo stuffy. It’s all history, history, history. You’d think Carramer had more past than future.”
Sometimes he felt the same about himself. “You study modern subjects, I know you do.”
She gave a snort of derision. “Like you’d know.”
He felt a smile start. “I went to school in Carramer, too, admittedly in the Dark Ages.”
She grinned in spite of herself. The transformation was astonishing. From a surly child, she became a real beauty. With the striking blond coloring and glorious hair she had inherited from her mother, Bryce didn’t doubt she’d be a heartbreaker one day. “Thirty isn’t all that ancient, Dad. If we’d moved somewhere more exciting than Merrisand, you might have married again,” she said.
“I’m not interested in marrying again.” Seeing her face darken, he regretted his sharp tone. Was she trying to tell him she wouldn’t mind if he did? He touched the back of his hand to her cheek as if he could erase the downcast expression. “I have all the family I need right here.”
He couldn’t imagine risking a repeat of the heartache he’d endured during Yvette’s illness. Amanda had been five when Yvette was stricken with a mysterious blood disease no doctor could diagnose or cure. His heart still bled to think of his wife’s battle to live as the disease took her away in slow, painful increments.
Twice she had rallied, giving them hope that one of the desperate treatments they’d tried might be working. In the end nothing had, and she had slipped away two years before. The wound in Bryce’s heart felt less raw now, but in a way that was more alarming. Would he eventually be left feeling nothing at all?
Bryce had expected his grandfather to understand his difficulties, since Karl had lost his own wife to a stroke a decade before. Instead, the specter of Yvette’s illness had seemed to frighten Karl. He had become even more despotic, making no allowances for the vast amounts of time and money Bryce had needed to devote to seeking a cure.
Not surprisingly, the running of Eden Valley had suffered, displeasing Karl so much that he had used his majority vote to have the land put up for auction. Maybe he had intended the threat to bring his grandson to heel. But Bryce was more like his grandfather than either of them wanted to admit, and had surprised the old man by agreeing that selling was the best option. His parents had taken more convincing that Bryce really did want to strike out on his own before they also voted in favor of selling. The sale had gone through five months ago.
The auction was the reason he and Amanda were living at Merrisand, he mused. Prince Maxim de Marigny, the administrator of the castle and its estates, had attended the auction to inspect Eden Valley’s renowned stock of Mayat deer, a cross between Chital and Carramer’s native sun deer. Bryce had spent a lot of time with the prince, preferring to talk about deer breeding than focus on what was happening to Eden Valley. Evidently he had impressed the prince, because soon after the auction Maxim invited Bryce to take over management of the Royal Deer Park at Merrisand.
Bryce planned to build the park up until the herds were the equal of those he’d bred at Eden Valley. Then he intended to use his share of the auction proceeds plus whatever he could save working for the royal family to buy another ranch and start again. Prince Maxim had given him complete authority over the royal park, but it wasn’t the same as having a place he and Amanda could call their own.
He could have taken her to live in America. His mother had been born on Nuee, but his father was American. Bryce himself had dual citizenship, having been born in America after he arrived early when his parents were visiting his grandparents. But Carramer was where he belonged. Yvette’s parents lived on Nuee but were still coming to terms with her death. Another reason he had for being glad he had brought Amanda to Merrisand.
“At least you’ll finally get to meet Princess Giselle,” she said now.
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the black shoes he’d polished until they gleamed. Normally the princess assisted her brother, Maxim, with the running of the castle. When Bryce arrived, he’d been told she was away in Taures city nursing an injured foot. She hadn’t summoned him to her presence on her return, so either she was happy with her brother’s appointment of Bryce, or she had more pressing priorities. Either way, she would be too busy with her many guests to pay him much heed tonight.
“There will be a lot of people at the ball. I probably won’t see much of the princess.” The only reason he was putting himself through the ordeal was because all senior castle employees were expected to attend. He was also curious, he had to admit. Was the princess as beautiful as he’d been told?
Amanda curled up at the head of the bed like a kitten. “You’ll be the best-looking man there, and the princess will be swept away.”
He slanted a look at the black mask lying between them. “I’m not sure how she’s supposed to tell.”
“Women know these things,” she said airily. “Don’t you think a masked ball is romantic?”
“Easy for you to say, chicken. You’re not the one who has to turn up looking like Zorro.”
“How about the Phantom of the Opera?”
“Or the Lone Ranger?”
“A superhero,” she countered.
With a sigh of resignation, he slipped the mask over his face and stood up to check the effect in the mirror. As a boy he had wondered how superheroes got away without being recognized. Now he was amazed at the difference the black mask made to his appearance. With only his eyes and mouth visible, he looked mysterious and totally unlike himself. Attending the princess’s ball was still an ordeal he could do without, but seeing himself in the mask made him feel marginally better about it.
The doorbell pealed. “That will be Mrs. Gray.” Their housekeeper, normally only there during the daytime, had agreed to sit with Amanda tonight.
The child bounced off the bed. “I’m old enough not to need a sitter, you know.”
He ruffled her hair. “Humor me. I need the reassurance.”
At his bedroom door, she turned back. “You look great, Dad. You’re going to knock Princess Giselle’s socks off.”
Amanda assumed he wanted to. He made a shooing gesture. “Go and let Mrs. Gray in so I can get this evening over with.”
Chapter One
This was a crazy idea, Giselle thought as she surveyed the assembled guests from the swaying height of the sedan chair borne on the shoulders of four members of the Royal Protection Detail. She should never have let her equerry talk her into making her entrance this way.
Not that she had needed much persuading. The alternative, hobbling in leaning on a cane, hadn’t held much appeal.
Torn ligaments and a chipped bone had been the doctor’s verdict after a horse she’d been riding at an official function threw her heavily. After the plaster was removed, she’d been ordered to rest her foot for another month. Merrisand Castle, built on a hill, was too difficult for her to get around in that condition, so she had spent the time at her parents’ home in Taures city. She was thankful she had only needed a plaster cast for the first two weeks, or she would have been delivered to the ball in a wheelchair.
She didn’t know what was hardest to endure: the lack of mobility or being fussed over by her mother. Princess Marie meant well, Giselle knew, but as consort to the governor of Taures, and aunt to the country’s reigning monarch, she was far more earnest about her royal role than Giselle would ever be.
Marie had a never-ending list of rules for how a princess should behave. Falling off a horse was definitely not one of them. What was Giselle supposed to do, stick to riding sidesaddle? Probably, she thought gloomily.
It was bad enough being reminded constantly of archaic rules such as “a lady only ever has one leg.” This was usually said when Giselle was wearing jeans and seated with her legs comfortably apart instead of crossed in one neat line as her mother’s rule demanded. Was she also supposed to give up all the healthy activities she enjoyed in favor of more ladylike pursuits like needlework? Fat chance.
Now was not the time to worry about such things, she told herself, feeling her spirits lift. She was home again in her beloved Merrisand Castle in time to host her favorite charity ball of the year. If she had to make her entrance in a sedan chair, so be it. This was supposed to be a fantasy affair anyway.
She looked around. The women shimmered in their designer gowns, the men looking incredibly handsome in black tie. Everyone seemed more glamorous and mysterious behind their masks. She recognized a few people even with their masks, but many faces had her puzzled. Was that really her brother, Maxim, wearing a stylish black cape over his evening dress, his mask revealing only his mouth and strong jaw?
She suspected that he was frowning at her as usual. Probably disapproving of her unorthodox mode of transport. If she couldn’t draw all eyes with her dancing prowess, she had to settle for making an entrance. She caught a cheerful grin from the man beside him. Eduard de Marigny, the present marquis of Merrisand. Masked or not, she would know him anywhere. It was a pity he lived in Valmont Province when he wasn’t serving with the Carramer navy because he was one of Giselle’s staunchest supporters.
Beside him was his wife, Carissa. Giselle could see her cornflower eyes sparkling behind a tiny feathered mask. Carissa had met Eduard and love had blossomed between them after she mistakenly purchased one of the royal homes from a con man. Giselle was godmother to their adorable triplets, Jamet, Michelle and Henry, and counted Carissa as a dear friend. She exchanged smiles with the other woman.
Because this was a masked ball, there was no receiving line and Giselle was truly grateful. She had an excellent memory and could usually call to mind a few personal details about each of the guests as they were presented to her, but it was a tedious task. Much more challenging to try to guess who everyone was before the masks were due to come off at midnight.
After setting her down carefully at the head of the ballroom, the four members of the R.P.D. who had carried her stepped away from the chair and fanned out to keep an unobtrusive watch for the rest of the night. At her signal, trays of champagne and canapés were carried around, and the orchestra struck up the first dance of the evening. As she tapped her injured foot in instinctive response to the music, a twinge of pain reminded her that she wouldn’t be joining the other couples on the floor. She stilled her foot, feeling frustration settle over her like a cloud.
Her royal relatives were dancing or talking, and the other guests had left a deferential circle of space around her. She restrained the urge to tell them to come closer, she didn’t bite. Feeling isolated was a fact of royal life.
Normally she would have circulated among the crowd, putting others at ease until she felt that way herself. It was one of her mother’s rules that she actually found sensible. Limited by her injury, she could only look pleasant and hope someone would have the sense to approach her.
“Can I get you something, Your Highness?”
Expecting one of the servants, she looked up. And up, and up. Then felt her breath catch. The man beside her was a couple of inches over six feet tall, with a muscular build and long, athletic legs that looked as if they would eat up a dance floor. Like the other male guests, he wore evening dress and on him it looked dashingly individual.
And his eyes.
Behind his mask they were a clear, dark blue like the waters of a bottomless lake, and just as unfathomable. They met hers with a directness she seldom experienced other than from members of her family. He didn’t act like one of the castle staff, she thought, struggling to put a name to what she could see of his face. He must be a friend of Maxim or Eduard. No employee would meet her gaze so unflinchingly, as if daring her to accept him as anything other than an equal.
His hair was as black as midnight, the slightly untamed strands skimming the collar of his pristine dress shirt. The contrast was startling. Only an hour ago, she had joked with her lady-in-waiting about meeting her Prince Charming at the ball, never expecting it to be a possibility.
It wasn’t a possibility now, although it was difficult to remember, when her heart thudded against her chest and her breath felt strangled. He was only another guest, although he looked as if he had stepped straight out of her dreams.
“I don’t—that is, I’d better not in case I have to resort to pain medication during the evening.” She was furious with herself for stumbling over the words.
She imagined eyebrows as black as his hair winging upward beneath the mask. “Are you in pain now?”
His concerned tone provoked a frisson of response. “Nothing to worry about.” The faint twinge had been forgotten at her first sight of him.
He gestured at the sedan chair. “Unusual mode of transportation.”
She could have kissed him for offering the conversational lifeline, then almost sighed at the thought. Kissing him would be an extraordinary experience. One she wasn’t in the least likely to have. It didn’t stop her from imagining his generous mouth claiming hers, their breath mingling.
It had been a long time since she’d been kissed by anyone. Really kissed. There was Robert, of course. But he never made her feel this confused or needy. Maybe that’s why she felt driven to end the relationship. She wanted a man who made her feel more than he did.
The way she felt now.
She gathered her scattered wits. Although her medication had been tapered almost to nothing, it must be to blame for her confusion. How else to explain the fast hammering of her heart, and her sense that the ballroom was overheated suddenly?
She tried for a normal tone. “The sedan chair is a museum piece that belonged to my grandmother, Princess Antoinette. I had to choose between using the chair or a walking stick.”
“I saw the chair on display in the Tower Hall a couple of days ago and wondered how riding in it would feel,” he observed.
“Bumpy.” His voice reminded her of hot chocolate, smooth, rich, delicious.
She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head to clear it. It wasn’t done to seek introductions at a masked ball and take the mystery out of the occasion, but she found herself wanting to. She settled for saying, “We haven’t met before. Are you staying at the castle?”
He inclined his head. “For the moment.”
An answer that told her precisely nothing about him. “I would like some sparkling water,” she said, feeling her mouth dry.
She regretted the request when he turned away from her at once. Stay, she wanted to command, feeling a sense of desertion sweep over her. Then she retracted the thought, as watching him brought its own gratification.
He moved with a controlled strength that was like poetry, muscles fluid under the black suit. A man of action, she decided, one used to having his body obey him without thought. When he brought her glass of water, his fingers looked strong around the fragile flute. He gave it to her and a tingle traveled through her as his hand brushed hers.
Trying not to show how unnerved she was, she said, “Thank you.”
His dark gaze swept the crowd around them. “This can’t be much fun for you, Your Highness.”
Something in his gaze inspired her confidence. “It beats spending two months with my mother.”
A sparkle of understanding lit the blue depths. “Prince Maxim told me you were staying at Taures Palace. I gather it wasn’t a picnic.”
He must be one of her brother’s guests, she concluded. All the same she shouldn’t be discussing her family with someone she didn’t know, although she was tempted to do just that. “What’s the old saying? ‘You can’t go home again.”’
Did she imagine the sudden tightening around his mouth? All he said was, “Quite.” He shifted as if to move away.
“Stay and talk to me,” she said, shocking herself slightly. Feeling needy was one thing, but indulging it with a stranger was quite another. Her mother was bound to have a rule against such behavior.
He inclined his head in silent acknowledgment. “I don’t wish to monopolize your time. Protocol…”