“I’m going to teach you

some self-defense,” Mark announced.

“Put your arms around me.”

As Vanessa followed Mark’s order, forbidden excitement shot thought her.

“There are several ways to respond to an attack. Stomp your attacker’s foot. Scrape his shin with your heel. Or bend your knee for a backward kick to the groin. Got that?”

“Yes.” She’s also gotten hot and bothered by their close contact. Her cheeks were flushed, and her forehead was damp with sweat. A princess was not allowed to sweat.

He made her feel alive. A sexy and intense chemistry sizzled between them.

“Good.”

“Mmm, good.” She had no idea what he was talking about. She felt dreamy and distracted.

“But sometimes—” He snared her in his arms, flashed a devilishly sexy smile and lowered his head until his lips almost brushed hers. “Sometimes your attacker might use a devious approach. Will you be prepared for this?”

Before she could think, his mouth captured hers.

Dear Reader,

Celebrate the holidays with Silhouette Romance! We strive to deliver emotional, fast-paced stories that suit your every mood—each and every month. Why not give the gift of love this year by sending your best friends and family members one of our heartwarming books?

Sandra Paul’s The Makeover Takeover is the latest page-turner in the popular HAVING THE BOSS’S BABY series. In Teresa Southwick’s If You Don’t Know by Now, the third in the DESTINY, TEXAS series, Maggie Benson is shocked when Jack Riley comes back into her life—and their child’s!

I’m also excited to announce that this month marks the return of two cherished authors to Silhouette Romance. Gifted at weaving intensely dramatic stories, Laurey Bright once again thrills Romance readers with her VIRGIN BRIDES title, Marrying Marcus. Judith McWilliams’s charming tale, The Summer Proposal, will delight her throngs of devoted fans and have us all yearning for more!

As a special treat, we have two fresh and original royalty-themed stories. In The Marine & the Princess, Cathie Linz pits a hardened military man against an impetuous princess. Nicole Burnham’s Going to the Castle tells of a duty-bound prince who escapes his castle walls and ends up with a beautiful refugee-camp worker.

We promise to deliver more exciting new titles in the coming year. Make it your New Year’s resolution to read them all!

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

The Marine & the Princess
Cathie Linz

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Alison Hart, aka Jennifer Greene,

for being such a wonderful friend over the years

and for sharing my love of fairy tales. And with

very special thanks to my editor, Jennifer Walsh,

for making the entire process such a creative pleasure.

Books by Cathie Linz

Silhouette Romance

One of a Kind Marriage #1032

* Daddy in Dress Blues #1470

* Stranded with the Sergeant #1534

* The Marine & the Princess #1561

Silhouette Desire

Change of Heart #408

A Friend in Need #443

As Good as Gold #484

Adam’s Way #519

Smiles #575

Handyman #616

Smooth Sailing #665

Flirting with Trouble #722

Male Ordered Bride #761

Escapades #804

Midnight Ice #846

Bridal Blues #894

A Wife in Time #958

† Michael’s Baby #1023

† Seducing Hunter #1029

† Abbie and the Cowboy #1036

Husband Needed #1098

Silhouette Books

Montana Mavericks

Baby Wanted

CATHIE LINZ

left her career in a university law library to become a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romances. She is the recipient of the highly coveted Storyteller of the Year Award given by Romantic Times Magazine and was recently nominated for a Love and Laughter Career Achievement Award for the delightful humor in her books.

Cathie enjoys traveling, spending time with her family, her two cats, her trusty word processor and her hidden cache of Oreo cookies!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Chapter One

“You’ve got to help me!” Princess Vanessa Alexandria Maria Teresa Von Volzemburg pleaded in desperation.

“What’s wrong?” her close friend Prudence Martin-Wilder asked from the other end of the phone line. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” Vanessa replied, kicking off her designer shoes and flinging herself onto the ivory damask-covered chaise lounge in her suite at the Plaza Hotel. “If I have to shake another hand or smile another empty royal smile I’m going to scream.” Her voice was shaky with exhaustion. “Here I am in New York City, the most vibrant and exciting city in the world, and I’m locked up like a prisoner.”

Vanessa stared out the hotel window at the sparkling city lights with longing. A big world was teeming with life out there. Without her.

She felt so trapped. Her prison walls were invisible bars constructed out of ingrained loyalty to her family and her country. She was burned-out from months and months of continuous projects—racing from one official function to another, putting duty above her own health, working through two bouts of flu and one of bronchitis, not pausing for illness or fatigue until she was so depleted she couldn’t even think straight anymore.

“What are you doing in New York?” Prudence asked.

Vanessa rubbed her sore feet. You’d think shoes that cost several thousand dollars and had been made just for her would be comfortable as well as stunning. Many was the time she’d longed to show up for some formal occasion wearing an old pair of broken-in athletic shoes under her Valentino haute couture gown. “I’m here for the International Chocolate Manufacturers Convention promoting the chocolate makers of Volzemburg.”

“A tough job, I know, but someone has to do it,” Prudence said in a teasing voice.

“I’ve been working since six this morning, and it’s now after eleven at night. It’s been like that every day. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at another chocolate truffle for a month,” Vanessa groaned.

Prudence laughed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Okay, so maybe I’ll be ready for more chocolate in an hour or two. But I won’t be ready to return to Volzemburg.” Vanessa shoved restless trembling fingers through her shoulder-length blond hair, ruining the smooth line of her expensive cut. The royal hairdresser Mimi would be distraught at the way Vanessa’s hair looked now. Tough noogies. “My father has been driving me crazy with his demands that I announce my engagement to Sebastian de Koonan.”

“Sebastian…he’s that wealthy business tycoon from Volzemburg, right?” Prudence asked.

“Right. His lineage is almost as good as mine. And he’s good-looking in his own way, I suppose. But the idea of marrying him…” Vanessa shuddered. “It would be like marrying my brother or cousin. I just don’t feel that way about him.”

“Have you told your father that?”

“Yes, certainly I’ve told him, but my father doesn’t listen to me. I can’t take this anymore!” Her voice cracked. “I’ve got to get out of this prison of responsibilities, even if only for a few days.”

“Now, Vanessa, don’t do anything rash,” Prudence warned, clearly recognizing that tone of voice from their teenage days when they’d both attended a private girls’ school together for a year.

“Don’t do anything rash?” Vanessa repeated. “This from a woman who went bungee jumping?”

“Yes, well, I’m not a princess. As you said at the time, you do have responsibilities. You can’t just take off on a vacation or something.”

“I can’t?” Vanessa sat up a little straighter. “Why not?”

“Because your life is planned out months in advance, your royal schedule booked down to the last second. Isn’t that what you told me?”

“Yes, but next week my father has me spending time with Sebastian at the palace. There aren’t any major charity functions or official business events planned.” Excitement took hold and for the first time Vanessa began to see a glimmer of light at the end of what had been a very long, dark and lonely tunnel for her. “I could just take off.”

“No, you couldn’t. That would be dangerous. You’re a wealthy princess. If you went missing your father would send out the Marines for you, or the Volzemburg equivalent of that.” Prudence’s father was a sergeant major in the U.S. Marine Corps, and last year she’d married a Marine, so she tended to voice things in Marine-like terms.

“Ah, but I wouldn’t go missing,” Vanessa said. “I could stay right here in New York City.”

“Your father wouldn’t let you do that.”

“He would if he thought I was sick. And I have been sick. I’m so beat that I’m sure I’m about to come down with something. Yes.” Vanessa cast a determined look around the well-appointed room. “I need a rest from this prison. And I have a plan that I think will work!”

“I think it’s crazy.”

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” Vanessa protested.

Prudence sighed. “Okay, go ahead. Convince me.”

“I tell my father I’ve gotten some illness. Nothing so serious he’d fly over to check on me, but something that would prevent me from getting on a plane. A terrible cold-flu thing involving my ears would be perfect.”

“That sounds real medical,” said Prudence, a school-teacher, and therefore, far too practical in Vanessa’s opinion. “What makes you think he’ll believe that you happened to get a ‘cold-flu thing’ just when you’re supposed to fly home to see Sebastian? You don’t think he’ll get suspicious?”

“Not if I have a physician speak to him.”

“How will you manage that?”

Vanessa frowned a moment before the answer came to her. “I could hire someone. This city is full of actors.”

“Okay, let’s say for the sake of argument you do convince your father. What does that get you? You’d have to stay in your suite pretending to be sick.”

“Not if I can convince my lady-in-waiting to help me, and I’m sure I can do that.” The enthusiasm in Vanessa’s voice increased as she saw her plan taking shape.

“Vanessa, you can’t just go off on your own in New York City.” Prudence sounded concerned. “You’re a princess. You need security of some sort.”

“Which brings us back to calling in the Marines as you put it. Or one Marine in particular. So what do you think?”

Prudence paused for a moment before saying, “I think I’ve got just the Marine for the job.”

“I knew I could count on you. I have to get out of here, or I swear I’ll go crazy!” Vanessa’s voice was unsteady.

“You just stay put,” Prudence said firmly. “Help is on the way.”

Swaying with exhaustion, Vanessa headed straight for bed. She really didn’t feel well. Maybe it was the rubbery chicken served at tonight’s banquet dinner. Or the fact that she hadn’t eaten much in days. Her unhappiness with her life had grown to such monumental proportions that she couldn’t eat or sleep even when she had the time to, which wasn’t very often.

She left a trail of clothing as she aimed for her bed like a battered fighter headed for a safe corner in the boxing ring. Crawling under the covers, she instantly fell asleep plotting her escape.

She woke early the next morning just as the sun was rising. Her body was still beat, but her mind kept racing, preventing her from getting more rest. She needed to perfect her plan. How should she get an actor to pose as a doctor? She’d met George Clooney in Cannes at the film festival last year, maybe he’d be willing to do it for her. He’d sounded so doctorly on that TV show.

Sliding on her silk robe with the royal coat of arms on the breast pocket, she headed for the bathroom, still groggy after only a handful of hours’ sleep.

Opening the door, she was stunned to find U.S. Marine Captain Mark Wilder standing there waiting for her, wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt and looking incredibly dangerous and sexy. “You rang, Princess?” he drawled.

Mark couldn’t believe he was stuck baby-sitting his sister-in-law’s friend. So what if she was a princess?

He could have said no, he supposed. But Prudence had sounded so frantic and then his brother Joe had gotten on the line, and the next thing Mark knew, he’d agreed to fly up here to New York City to rescue Vanessa.

The ironic thing was that half an hour later he’d been ordered by his commanding officer to do the very same thing—to provide protection and security, among other things, for said princess. Without her knowledge of the true purpose of his mission.

While briefing him, his commanding officer had provided an entirely different picture of Princess Vanessa Alexandria Maria Teresa Von Volzemburg. Spoiled rich girl bored with her fancy life. She was driving her devoted father, who happened to be a valuable U.S. ally, crazy.

At the moment, Mark could see how she could easily drive a guy crazy. She looked great wearing a purple silk robe that showed plenty of cleavage. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing a bridesmaid dress at Prudence and Joe’s wedding nine months ago. He’d noticed her then. But she hadn’t seemed to notice him, going out of her way to be friendly to everyone else attending that wedding while totally ignoring him.

Her behavior had irked him, Mark was willing to admit that. When he’d first seen her, he’d immediately noted Vanessa’s resemblance to Grace Kelly—the same cool blond looks, same regal bearing. But Vanessa possessed exotically tilted eyes that flashed with green fire. And her lips weren’t classy, they were downright lush and full. She had the kind of mouth that made a guy think wicked thoughts and the kind of body that did the same.

She wasn’t model skinny. She definitely had curves. In all the right places. He liked that in a woman. He wasn’t so sure he liked it in a princess. Made her too damn tempting.

“What are you doing in my bathroom?” she demanded, her voice an expression of picture-perfect princess outrage. Even her bare toes, painted pink, were curled in a display of feminine affront.

Mark couldn’t believe he’d attended Marine Corps Officer Candidate School to end up here—playing bodyguard to a princess. The things he did for his family. And his country.

“You want me to leave?” He moved as if to depart.

She reached out a hand to halt him. “No, I…you just surprised me, that’s all.”

“Didn’t Prudence tell you I was coming?”

“She told me she had a Marine in mind, yes. I just didn’t expect you here so quickly. Or to find you in here.” She waved a hand around the elegantly designed bathroom. “How did you get in without my security guard seeing you?”

“I’m an officer in the United States Marine Corps. I’ve also trained with Force Recon, the Marines’ elite reconnaissance unit,” he informed her. “I know how to avoid detection, Princess.”

“I want you to treat me normally,” she told him, but in a princess-to-peon tone of voice that irked him no end. “You may call me Vanessa.”

“And you may call me Captain,” he retorted.

“I shall call you Mark,” she stated, ignoring his sarcastic comment. “How much did Prudence tell you?”

“That you had some harebrained idea about running loose in the Big Apple.”

“I sincerely doubt she worded it like that.”

Mark shrugged, drawing her attention to his broad shoulders. “The bottom line is the same.”

“You don’t sound very approving.”

“Like I said, I think it’s a harebrained idea.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I owe my brother a favor, and he asked me to help out.” That was one reason.

“Your brother is a kind man.” Her inference that Mark was not kind was clear.

“Yeah, Joe is a real peach,” Mark mockingly agreed. “So let me get this straight. You want to take a little time off from your day job of princessing to trip the light fantastic, is that it?”

“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. May we continue this conversation in the other room?” she requested, drawing the lapels of her robe more closely together. “I’m not accustomed to having a discussion in the bathroom.”

“I’d rather stay put for the time being.” He flipped the toilet seat down, and gestured for her to sit there. “It seems only right that the throne be yours.”

She frowned at him and then grinned. “You have a wicked sense of humor, Captain. I like that in a Marine.”

“And you have a wicked pair of legs, Vanessa. I like that in a princess.”

“I’m so relieved to hear it,” she noted wryly before elegantly sitting on the closed toilet seat as if it were indeed the intricately carved and jewel-encrusted royal throne of Volzemburg. “I certainly wouldn’t want to destroy any of your misguided preconceptions about princesses.”

“You’ve already done that by wanting to run away,” he told her. “How hard can this princess gig be?”

“Hard enough,” Vanessa replied in a tough voice coated with classy silk.

“Seems like it would be a cushy job to me,” Mark noted, perching on the edge of the marble tub. “I’ll bet a night in this place costs more than I make in a week, maybe even in a month.”

“You’re probably right. I don’t know about the cost. The royal accountants take care of that sort of thing,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“And what sort of thing are you looking for me to take care of?”

“Security,” she immediately replied. “Mine, to be more precise. I’ll pay you for your time, of course.”

“Don’t insult me,” he stated curtly.

She blinked at him. “I wasn’t trying to….”

“I’m doing this for Prudence.” And because he’d been ordered to. “I’m on leave and had some time.” He was supposed to be on leave, but it was cancelled when he’d gotten this assignment.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s no need to say anything. Now what’s your plan?”

Vanessa repeated it to him just as she had to Prudence, only with more precision and firmness so he wouldn’t think she hadn’t thought things through.

“Sounds pretty lame to me. You hire some actor to pretend to be a doctor, and afterward he goes on to sell his story to the National Tattler.” Noting the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness of her skin, he said, “I know a real doctor who’ll recommend that you stay in bed and rest. Suffering from exhaustion is the term most frequently used.”

“The Von Volzemburgs never suffer from exhaustion.” The silky steeliness had returned to her voice. “We fought off Alexander the Great to protect our country and have been ruling ever since.”

“That may be, but you don’t have to pour hot oil over the castle battlements to protect your country any longer.”

“No, now I just have to spend twenty hours a day going from reception to reception,” she said tartly.

Mark flashed her a mocking smile and showed no pity. “Like I said, a real tough life. Too much partying. Too little sleep. Dr. Rosenthal is your man. He’s seen it all before.”

“He’s never seen me before,” she stated with haughty regality. “What makes you think he’d be willing to call my father?”

“He’s a former Marine. Royalty doesn’t scare him.”

“Royalty doesn’t scare you either, does it,” she noted.

“You’ve got that right.”

“Does anything frighten you?”

“Like I said, I’m a U.S. Marine Corps officer. We don’t scare easily.”

“Do you scare at all?”

“Well, ma’am,” he drawled, “the idea of marriage and being committed to just one woman scares me.”

“Marriage scares me, too,” she surprised him by admitting.

“Since I’m not looking to marry you and you’re not looking to marry me, neither one of us has anything to worry about then.”

“Except getting caught,” she said.

“Marines don’t get caught. Now let’s get back to your plan.”

“Before we do that, I must insist that you come up with another diagnosis. My father will simply not accept that I’m suffering from exhaustion. That is not a suitable excuse to avoid returning home. No, the diagnosis must have something to do with my ears.”

His gaze automatically traveled across her high cheekbones to her ears. They were dainty and feminine, and she wore an earring in each lobe. No cubic zirconias for this princess. No, those rocks were diamonds. “Are you supposed to sleep with those things in your ears?”

She touched her earlobe self-consciously. “I was too tired to do more than remove my clothing last night.”

Which meant what? That she was naked beneath that silky purple robe?

Years of training allowed Mark to keep an impassive look on his face, but inside he was responding to her proximity like a male, not a Marine.

“Would your Dr. Rosenthal be willing to tell my father I can’t fly because I have a cold-flu thing?” she asked. “Remember it has to involve my ears so that I wouldn’t be able to fly for several days.”

“Right. I’m sure the good doctor will say whatever is required.”

“He won’t have ethical problems with that?”

Mark wasn’t about to go into Dr. Rosenthal’s reasons for going along with this plan. “He’s a friend. I already told you, he’ll do as we ask. Let’s move on. Where do you plan on sleeping at night?” he asked.

That was one question she hadn’t yet considered. “Here, I suppose,” she replied.

“Here in your suite?” He shook his head. “Not a good idea. You’d be going past your own security guard every night. Eventually you’d get caught.”

“Fine. Then I’ll sleep elsewhere. There are plenty of hotel rooms available in this city.”

“Not that I can afford.”

“I shall, of course, pay for all expenses,” she loftily informed him.

“With what?” he demanded, pinning her with his saberlike gaze. “You think you’re not going to draw attention to yourself by using your platinum princess credit card? Or did you plan on having your accountants come trailing after you to pay for things?”

“All right.” She shot him an irritated look. “So I haven’t exactly worked out all the details yet.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I have. But before we go any further, Princess, we need to get a few things clear. First off, I’m in charge of this op.”

“Op?” she repeated with a lift of one of her delicately shaped eyebrows.

“Operation.”

“Ah, a military rather than medical term, I’m assuming?” she noted mockingly.

“Affirmative. I’ve had more experience at this sort of thing than you have.”

“At pretending to be a regular person?”

“At pretending to be something I’m not,” Mark replied, very well aware of the fact that if Princess Vanessa Alexandria Maria Teresa Von Volzemburg knew the real reason he was here, she’d toss him out on his ear. It was his job to make sure she didn’t find out.

Chapter Two

“Your Highness?” Vanessa’s lady-in-waiting knocked on the bedroom door. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“No, Celeste!” Vanessa jumped up and hurried out of the bathroom. Putting one hand on the door to prevent the other woman from entering, she added, “Come back in fifteen minutes, please.”

“As Your Highness wishes.”

Turning, Vanessa almost bumped into Mark. He moved so fast and so silently that she hadn’t even realized he’d left the bathroom. She took a startled step backward and tripped over the hem of her robe.

Mark immediately reached out to steady her. She was standing so close to him now that she could see her own reflection in his blue eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

His hands had automatically gone to her waist to steady her, and the feel of his strong hands warmed her through the silk of her robe. Indeed, she was all too conscious of each individual fingertip pressing against her, creating a restless stirring in the innermost recesses of her heart.

She could feel his heat, could sense the strength in his powerful body. She remembered the last time she’d seen him, at Prudence’s wedding, where she noticed the swagger and confidence that was so much a part of him. Even standing still, as he was now, he still exuded a don’t-mess-with-me hardness combined with a sexy bad-boy charm. What a potent combination.

But she was no wide-eyed military groupie to be taken in by a man in a uniform, or in this case a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Especially one as sure of himself as Captain Mark Wilder was.

Even so, there was definitely something about this man that got to her.

As if suddenly realizing he’d been holding her long after she’d regained her balance, Mark abruptly released her and said, “Who is Celeste?”

Vanessa had to think a moment, so scattered were her thoughts from his proximity. “Celeste? She’s my lady-in-waiting. She also serves as my private secretary.” Vanessa quickly moved around him to walk to the middle of the bedroom. She needed a bit more space between them in order to regain her composure. Her body was still humming from his touch. “I have to have Celeste’s help to pull this off.”

Mark shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

“Why not? Celeste can be trusted. You have your Marine comrades, I have my lady-in-waiting.”

Mark rolled his eyes. He had lovely blue eyes, but it was his smile that was a real killer. Or maybe his blue eyes made his smile more powerful because his eyes gleamed with wicked humor. They weren’t gleaming now, but they had when they’d been in the bathroom together. Now he was looking at her with impatience.

She was not the least bit intimidated. “I told you in the beginning when I outlined my plan to you that Celeste will cover my disappearance from the suite by acting as if I was still here.”

“Fine. Get her in here, and I’ll listen in to your explanation from the bathroom. I don’t want her walking in and screaming because she finds a strange man in your bedroom.”

“She wouldn’t scream,” Vanessa said.

“Why?” He pinned her with his gaze. “Because she’s used to finding strange men in your bedroom?”

Vanessa bestowed a royal glare upon him. “That is a totally inappropriate question.”

“Not when I’m providing your security, it’s not. If there are any besotted beaux in the picture…”

“There aren’t,” she said curtly. Sebastian was hardly besotted with her. Besides he was back in Volzemburg.

“Good.” Mark sounded entirely too satisfied with her response. “That simplifies things. Go ahead and call in your lady-in-whatever.”

“Lady-in-waiting.”

“Meanwhile, I’ll call the doctor and have him come over here.” Mark disappeared into the bathroom.

The man had no manners. Didn’t he know it was rude to leave her presence without bowing first? Not a nose-to-the-floor kind of bow, but a respectful tilt of the head. Granted she’d told him to treat her normally, but then signs of respect from men were how she was normally treated. She’d have to learn to be more casual. But first she had to convince Celeste to help her.

She called the other woman in.

“Have I done something to offend you, Your Highness?” Celeste asked in a nervous voice, looking at her with big brown eyes. Her dark hair was smoothed into place with a silver hair clip in a demure style that accentuated her round face.

“On the contrary,” Vanessa reassured her, closing the bedroom door. “I need your assistance in a matter of great importance. This can be trusted to no one else but you. You know that these past few months have been very busy and, well… I’ll simply be blunt with you, Celeste. I need some time away.”

Celeste nodded solemnly. “I know. And I agree, Your Highness. Which is why I’m so glad we’ll be returning to Volzemburg later today.”

“No, we won’t. We’re staying here in New York a little longer.” Vanessa quickly outlined her plan and Celeste’s part in it.

“Your Highness, are you sure this is a good idea?” Celeste inquired in an extremely doubtful voice.

“I’m certain.” Vanessa used her most regal tone, the one that could convince people that the sun was the moon. “Now, are you with me on this?”

Celeste nodded. “You know I’ll do whatever you want me to, Your Highness. You’ve been so good to me and to my family. There were others who wanted this position, but you chose me, and I appreciate that more than I can say.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“You are certain that you will never be in any danger?” Celeste asked. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself were anything to happen to you.”

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to her,” Mark said from the bathroom doorway.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Vanessa said. “This is Captain Mark Wilder. He’s my best friend’s brother-in-law and a Marine. He’ll be my temporary bodyguard. United States Marines guard the White House and the U.S. embassies. I’ll be as safe as could be.”

“What about Anton?” Celeste inquired.

“Anton, the royal security officer?” Vanessa noted the shine in her young lady-in-waiting’s eyes. “The one who has an affection for you?”

Celeste blushed. “Anton would never do anything to compromise your safety,” she said earnestly. “His first loyalty is to you and the Crown.”

“His first loyalty is to my father,” Vanessa noted bluntly, “which is why we’re not telling Anton about this plan. He’d report it to the king in a flash. You must swear to me that you won’t say a word to Anton.”

“I swear, Your Highness.” Celeste placed her hand on her own heart as she made the solemn vow. “You can trust me.”

“Good. Then let’s get this plan started. Tell Anton that I’m not feeling well this morning and that I don’t wish to be disturbed. Oh, and when a Dr. Rosenthal arrives, please show him right in.”

Celeste departed, leaving behind the breakfast she’d brought with her. Mark was already lifting the heavy silver covers from the plates. “I’m starving. Fruit. Is that all you eat for breakfast? Ah, pancakes.” He licked his lips and dipped a finger into the small sterling pitcher that held warmed maple syrup. “Good. You don’t mind if I eat some of this, do you?” He dragged an armchair over to the small table holding the food. “All I got on the red-eye flight up here was a bag of salty peanuts.”

“Where did you fly in from?”

“Washington, D.C.”

“Is that where you’re stationed?”

He nodded and took a healthy bite of pancakes.

“A lovely place,” she noted. “But I believe New York is my favorite American city. There’s such an excitement here, you can almost hear its heartbeat.”

“All I hear is traffic.”

The man had no soul. Which wasn’t surprising. Marines weren’t known for their poetic natures.

Sitting there in her bedroom, eating her breakfast, he looked tough and sexy. The black T-shirt and black jeans he wore added a dangerous edge to his appearance. She could easily imagine him in an undercover operation. She could easily imagine him under her covers, period.

Oh my. She hadn’t had these kinds of fantasies about a man in ages. Not since the last time she’d seen him at Prudence’s wedding. This was certainly not the man to have those kinds of fantasies about. He was much too rough and too irreverent, too physical and too earthy. The qualifications for a good temporary bodyguard were not the same as those for a partner in a romantic relationship. Especially for a princess.

She wasn’t looking for a man in her life. She was looking for some freedom.

Briskly shoving her erotic thoughts aside, she said, “While you’re eating, I think I’ll write up a list of what I’d like to accomplish during these next few days.”

“Write away,” he mumbled around a mouthful of pancake.

Taking a piece of official stationery from her personal supply on the Chippendale-style writing desk, she nibbled on the edge of a pen that had been given to her by the queen of England for her twenty-first birthday. “Despite all my visits to New York, I’ve never seen the major tourist attractions like the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building.” She wrote those down. Despite her best efforts, her handwriting had never been as elegant and flowing as her younger sister Anna’s. A handwriting analyst had once done an article about Vanessa, saying she had a stubborn individual style that occasionally showed a surprising lack of confidence. Bingo. That was her personality in a nutshell. For once, the press got it right. “Oh, and I’d love to take a moonlit stroll through Central Park.”

“Dumb move,” he said bluntly.

She fixed him with a mocking stare. “Come now, Mark, don’t be shy. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Feelings have nothing to do with it.” He took a sip of coffee. “I’m telling you that walking through Central Park at night isn’t smart.”

“Nonsense. I’ll have a big strong Marine next to me. Besides, I’ve heard that New York is a much safer city now than it used to be.”

“You’re going through all this trouble just so you can do touristy stuff, like visit the Statue of Liberty. That’s all?” This assignment might not be so hard after all, he decided, aside from the walk in the park. That was a definite no-go. He was not compromising her security to that extreme.

Protecting foreign dignitaries usually did not fall under his command, or any Marine’s command for that matter, but this situation was unique. He’d been given this assignment because of his connections to Vanessa. As his C.O., his commanding officer, had told him, he was the only man for the job.

“I want to do what normal people do,” Vanessa was saying. “Eat at a fast-food restaurant, shop at a regular department store, go out dancing at a club at night—one that’s not just for the rich and famous.”

Shopping. Mark froze, his fork poised above the next portion of pancake. He’d rather do a month of Arctic training than shop. Marines didn’t shop. They went into a store, procured their necessities and got out ASAP.

And what had she listed before shopping? Dancing? He wasn’t a big fan of that wimpy activity either. Unless it was line dancing. He’d mastered that at a nifty little bar called Buck’s several years back. Where had that been? He frowned. So many assignments, so many bases.

But none of them had prepared him for dealing with a princess. If he had food like this served to him on a silver platter every day, he doubted he’d take off the way she wanted to. But then his mission was not to wonder why, his was to do or die.

And while the thought of dancing and shopping made him cringe, it wouldn’t literally kill him. Not like his time spent in Desert Storm eleven years ago as a young recruit or his last overseas assignment a year ago. Those had been dangerous. This was a piece of cake.

He was a “Mustang,” an enlisted man who’d worked his way up the ranks to become an officer. He thrived on challenges and was trained for efficiency. He excelled at strategy, and his strategy in this op was simple—to befriend Vanessa. A friendly princess was a more docile princess. He didn’t want a rowdy royal on his hands here.

“There, my preliminary list is done. I think I’ll go take a shower and get dressed now,” she announced.

“Put on some exercise clothes,” he told her, his thoughts already moving on to the next step in his plan.

She looked at him blankly. “Exercise clothes?”

“Yes, ma’am. Shorts and a T-shirt. Something like that.”

“I don’t own anything like that. I do have a dance leotard.”

“I guess that will have to do.” He wasn’t quite sure exactly what a dance leotard looked like, but surely it was like something the women wore in a gym. “Put that on.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to show you some moves.”

“Dance moves?” she asked.

Mark shuddered. “Not in this lifetime.”

“Then what?”

Instead of answering, he said, “Get in that shower and get changed. We don’t have all day.”

Twenty minutes later she stood on the bathroom threshold and announced, “I’m ready.”

Mark turned. He wasn’t ready for the slam of awareness that hit him midsection. The black leotard fit her like a second skin, outlining the curve of her breasts. She even had black ballet slippers on her dainty feet.

She looked ready for a performance of Swan Lake, not the mini–boot camp he had planned for her.

“Right.” He had to pause and clear his throat. It felt as if he’d swallowed his tongue when he’d first seen her. “Okay, Princess—”

“I told you to call me Vanessa,” she reminded him, gliding over to him.

Where did she learn to walk like that? he wondered irritably. In princess school?

Whatever lessons she’d learned in her royal life, he was about to teach her some hard facts. Life was tough. She had to be tougher.

He didn’t have much time to bring her up to scratch.

First he had to assess her physical fitness.

“How many push-ups can you do?” he barked out.

She was clearly startled by his question. “I have no idea.”

“How fast can you run a mile?” Her blank look was answer enough. “What about your exercise routine?” he continued. “Don’t you have a personal trainer or something?”

“I’m too busy for that sort of thing,” she said with a little wave of her hand.

“Too busy doing your princess thing,” he scoffed. “Right. Well, let me warn you, Princess, those Cinderella glass slippers of yours are liable to get broken in the real world. And you’ve got to be prepared for that. Now sit down and put your elbow on this table.”

“One does not put one’s elbows on a table,” she informed him before sitting down.

“One does if one is arm wrestling. Here, put your elbow on the table and bend your arm like this.” He showed her. “Now grip my hand and try to push my arm over.”

She frowned. “Why would I want to do that?”

“To show me how strong you are.”

“Why do I have to be strong? I thought that was your job.”

“I might need you as backup,” he said mockingly.

She took him seriously. “Oh, I see.” She blinked at him and leaned forward, thereby revealing an awesome amount of cleavage.

While his eyes were glued to her breasts, she adroitly shoved his arm almost to the table before he realized what she was up to. The little tease!

He recovered quickly and had her arm down in a flash. Tugging her to her feet a moment later, he began his next spiel. “I plan on teaching you some basic self-defense moves. If someone should grab you from behind like this—” He put his arms around Vanessa, pinning her arms to her sides. “I’m going to show you how you should respond.” He released her to move in front of her. “Now you put your arms around me as I just did you.”

She did as he ordered.

A thrill of forbidden excitement shot through her. Royal protocol precluded a princess from getting up close and personal with a U.S. Marine. Or with any other man, for that matter, unless his bloodlines were as pedigreed as her own and the man had been approved by her father.

Once, back when she was three or four, she’d left the opening of a new school in her country’s capital city of St. Kristoff where she’d been expected to stand still like a dutiful little princess. But she’d sneaked off to the playground where the other children had been playing tag. She’d envied the children their laughter and had wanted to join in the fun.

Instead, she’d stumbled over her own feet and had tumbled into the grass.

Looking up, she’d seen her father standing in the doorway to the school, a frown and a look of intense disappointment on his face.

“Stand up and stop being such a wild child,” he’d ordered her. “A princess never cries.”

She’d tried for years not to disappoint him, but had never quite succeeded in silencing that secret inner little girl that wanted to play tag. The truth was, she was still a wild child at heart. And standing there with her arms around Mark made her feel gloriously alive for the first time in years.

Unaware of the memories streaking through her mind, Mark continued giving orders in his brisk Marine voice. “There are several ways to respond to an attack from the rear like this. You can stomp your attacker’s foot. You can perform a shin scrape with the heel of your shoe. Or you can bend your knee for a backward kick to the groin with your heel. Do you understand those moves?”

“Yes.” She understood them but was distracted by her body pressed against his, spoon fashion. She was tall for a princess. The term gangly had been applied to her more than once. “Vertical Vanessa” was another one the European tabloids had used. But Mark was taller by several inches. He had to be over six foot.

While she was debating his height, Mark was moving on to the next segment. “Most attacks against women come from the front. Either the choke or the slap. To protect yourself from the slap, you put your forearm up like this.” He illustrated. “Now put your hands around my throat as if you were going to choke me.”

When she hesitated, he said, “Just think how aggravated you were with me when I called your plans lame.”

Nodding, she reached out. His skin was warm beneath her fingers. She could feel his Adam’s apple against her thumbs.

“The proper response to a choke hold is to push your attacker’s pinkies away from you,” he said, bending her fingers back, gently enough not to hurt her but firmly enough for her to see how such a move done vigorously would cause a surprising amount of pain.

“Think you got that?” he asked.

“Yes.” She’d also gotten all hot and bothered by all this close body contact. Her cheeks felt flushed, and her forehead was damp with sweat. A princess was never allowed to sweat. Not even on a state visit to India in a hundred-and-ten-degree heat. She’d almost passed out on that visit, but she hadn’t. And she hadn’t visibly sweated. Until now.

Excitement shot through her, heating her skin wherever they touched. A new kind of chemistry sizzled between them, a male-female chemistry that was sexy and intense.

“Good.”

“Mmm, good.” She had no idea what he was talking about. She felt all dreamy and distracted.

“But sometimes, Princess—” He snared her in his arms, flashed a devilishly sexy smile at her and then lowered his head until his lips almost brushed hers as he spoke. “Sometimes your attacker might use a more devious approach. Will you be prepared for that? Will you be prepared for this?”

Before she could think, his mouth captured hers.

Chapter Three

Vanessa was held captive. Not by the strength of his arms, but by the intensity of his passion…and her own.

She returned Mark’s kiss with a spirit of hunger that surprised them both. His lips moved over hers with an ever-fluid interplay that stole her breath away and vanquished all logic. Instead, she was consumed by a blind yearning that made her immediate world slide into oblivion. He made her shiver and burn at the same time, provoking a sensual response she could neither understand nor control.

The thin material of her leotard and his black T-shirt provided little protection against the earthy warmth of his body. His hands slid down her spine to the small of her back to tug her close, binding her to him. The passage of his hands created a new flame in the fire burning within her.

Mark parted his legs to brace himself as she melted against him. His action intensified the intimacy of their embrace, added a new level of heated friction.

Tunneling his hand beneath the golden tumble of her hair, he lured her to part her lips even farther for him. She eagerly complied. He rewarded her by doing enticing things with his tongue, moves that made Vanessa’s knees weak and her body throb. Her tongue answered his as his mouth slanted across hers in a new angle that afforded them both even more erotic pleasure.

Mark’s hands slid with deft sureness over her derriere, pulling her deeper into the kiss, into the madness. In his arms she was a different person. She was female to his bold male. She felt the thrust of his arousal, and her body responded with a receptive aching need to draw him to her. She was both the conquered and the conqueror.

And then it was all over.

Shocked, she swayed before him as Mark took several steps back. She felt naked without his arms around her.

“You weren’t supposed to kiss me back!” Mark growled, shooting her a look that was downright accusatory. “You should have used one of the self-defense techniques I just showed you instead of melting in my arms.”

Passion quickly dissolved in a sea of humiliation. Red-hot embarrassment rolled over her like a tidal wave. So did red-hot anger, making Vanessa react without thinking.

Enlisting a speedy move of her own, she took hold of his arm and twisted her hips, and presto—gravity took over, knocking a startled Mark completely off balance. A second later he was falling to the floor, landing on his sexy denim-clad derriere in the middle of the Aubusson carpet.

At that precise moment, Celeste opened the bedroom door and ushered in Dr. Rosenthal, who viewed Mark with a wide grin.

“I’ve heard of bowing to royalty, Wilder, but never thought I’d see the day when a woman would set you on your keister.”

“The captain was showing me his moves, so I showed him one of mine,” Vanessa said in a demure voice.

“I didn’t teach you that move,” Mark growled accusingly at Vanessa even as he leaped to his feet with the grace of a cat. A big cat, something in the angry-tiger family. A lesser woman would have taken a step back.

But Vanessa was a princess, and years of training helped her keep her cool.

“No, you didn’t teach me that move. Olga did.”

“Who the hell is Olga?” Mark demanded.

“She was the East German Olympic fencing champion for five straight years in the 1980s. Now she teaches fencing in Volzemburg. Over the years, she’s given me a few pointers in self-defense.”

“You could have told me that.”

“You could have asked me,” she retorted.

“Children, children, enough squabbling,” Dr. Rosenthal said. “As fascinating as this may be, I do have patients waiting for me back at my office.” The doctor looked more like a young John Wayne than George Clooney. He had a rugged face and direct demeanor, but kind brown eyes. “You’re looking flushed, Princess Vanessa. I fear you may have a fever.”

“Brain fever,” Mark muttered under his breath.

“Thank you, Celeste, you may leave us now,” Vanessa informed her wide-eyed lady-in-waiting.

The doctor opened his black bag and removed a stethoscope.

“I’m not sure what Mark told you,” she began, eyeing his medical bag warily.

“Relax, Princess,” Mark drawled. “He’s not going to draw too much blood.”

“I’m not going to draw any blood,” Dr. Rosenthal assured her with a reprimanding look in Mark’s direction. “You two are doing enough of that on your own.”

“I apologize, Dr. Rosenthal,” Vanessa said. “It’s very kind of you to take the time off from your busy practice to come here today.”

“The doc owes me a favor,” Mark said.

“I want to check you out a bit before I call your father,” Dr. Rosenthal said. “Make sure nothing really is wrong with you.”

“Aside from a stubborn nature, you mean.”

She ignored Mark’s comment.

“Take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out.”

“Have you known Mark long?” she asked.

“Long enough,” the doctor replied, taking a wooden tongue depressor out of his bag. “Open your mouth and go ah.” Shining a tiny high-intensity flashlight in her mouth, he noted, “Looks good. How long have you known Mark, Your Highness?”

“His brother, Joe, married my best friend Prudence.”

“Ah, Joe.” Dr. Rosenthal nodded as he tossed the tongue depressor in a ritzy garbage can with the royal seal on it. “The charmer in the Wilder family.”

“And Mark?” Vanessa asked. “What’s he?”

“The proud one,” Dr. Rosenthal instantly replied.

“Really? Why’s that? Because he’s a Marine?”

“Don’t you have someplace else to be, Doc?” Mark said, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking.

“The doctor has to phone my father before he leaves,” she reminded Mark.

“How much sleep have you been getting a night?” the doctor asked her.

“Four, maybe five hours, if I’m lucky,” she replied.

“And your appetite?”

“He ate most of my breakfast,” Vanessa noted with a regal tilt of her head in Mark’s direction.

“Hey, there was enough on that platter to feed a family of five,” Mark said in his own defense. “And she hardly touched any of it.”

“Mmm. You do show signs of nervous exhaustion,” Dr. Rosenthal told her. “All kidding aside, I do think a break would do you good.”

“There, you see?” Vanessa shot Mark a triumphant look. “The doctor agrees with me.”

Mark felt the first twinges of guilt tugging at his conscience. The good doctor was in on the plan, of course. A former Marine himself, Abraham Rosenthal hadn’t asked any questions and had only been told information about Mark’s mission on a need-to-know basis.

“Shall I call your father from my office or from the phone here?” the doctor asked.

“Here would be best, I believe,” Vanessa replied. “What do you think, Mark?”

It was the first time she’d ever consulted his opinion on anything and Mark found that he liked the inquiring look she gave him, as if she cared what he replied. Which was ridiculous. She was used to giving orders as much as he was. She clearly wasn’t a woman who kowtowed to others. She was a princess, for heaven’s sake, nothing like the women he usually went for—the voluptuous cheerleader type.

Not that the cheerleaders were empty-headed—Cindy was a court stenographer, Rusti a telemarketer. And they hadn’t been without class. But they’d been more interested in pleasing a man than in just about anything else.

And Mark had loved that about them. Well, not love. He didn’t do love.

When he eventually did marry, it would be to a woman who understood the demands of a career Marine officer. Plenty of women were impressed by the uniform, but not many were willing to stick around for the life-style. His older brother, Justice, was a prime example of that. He’d married his high-school sweetheart right after entering the Marine Corps at age eighteen only to have her divorce him a short while later.

Joe had married a woman accustomed to the life of a Marine. After all, Prudence’s father was a sergeant major. But Joe claimed that it hadn’t helped his case any.

Mark only knew that he planned on doing his family proud. As the only one who’d chosen the career path of a commissioned officer, he had a responsibility to his father to prove that he could rise to the highest ranks in the corps. The right kind of wife would help in that quest, someone quiet and not too demanding.

A princess definitely wouldn’t do. Way too high maintenance.

But, damn, she kissed better than any cheerleader he’d ever met.

Where the heck had a princess like her learned to kiss like that?

“Mark?” Vanessa said. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you think the doctor should phone my father from my room here at the hotel?”

“Affirmative,” Mark replied in his best crisp military voice.

“Remember, I don’t want to alarm my father into sending the royal physician over to check me out, I only want to delay my return home a few days.”

“He knows the drill,” Mark assured her, nodding at Abraham. And he did. He did his part with admirable alacrity.

“Well?” Vanessa asked nervously as the doctor hung up the phone from his transatlantic call.

“Enjoy your time off,” Abraham told Vanessa. “You heard me tell your father that you have laryngitis as well as a sinus infection with ocular involvement. He agreed that it would be best if you stayed where you are for the time being. I said it would take a week before you’d be safe to fly.”

“Thank you!” Vanessa looked as if she wanted to throw her arms around the good doctor and hug him, but instead she held out her hand for a formal handshake.

“Your father said if you’re not better in a week he’ll send the royal physician and come to New York himself,” the doctor warned her. “You’re going to have to check in with him in a few days. And I’m to give him an update tomorrow.”

Vanessa looked worried. “Will that be a problem for you?”

“No. Not as long as Mark keeps me informed on your health.”

“I’ll make sure she gets plenty of rest,” Mark said.

Eyeing them both in exasperation, she reminded them, “Gentlemen, the point of this entire exercise is for me to get some freedom, not some rest.”

“See you get both,” Dr. Rosenthal ordered before letting himself out.

“You’re going to need different clothes,” Mark said. They were the first words he’d spoken since Dr. Rosenthal had departed five minutes ago. She would have suspected he was pouting about her having dumped him on his too sexy fanny earlier, but Prudence had once told her that Marines never pout. They get even.

Which, honestly, did make Vanessa just a tad nervous. But it also excited her. The prospect of matching wits with Mark had her blood racing.

“You’ll need a disguise, so no one will recognize you,” he was saying.

“I’ll be sure to leave my tiara here,” she noted mockingly.

“You do that. Do you own any jeans? I already know you don’t own any T-shirts.”

“I’m sure they sell T-shirts in the hotel gift shop.”

“Fine. Have Celeste play tourist and go down and buy one for you.”

“An excellent idea. And one I’d actually already thought of myself,” she added.

“Sure you say that now…”

“A Von Volzemburg never lies,” she loftily informed him.

“This from a woman who just told a huge whopper to her own father.”

A woman. He’d just referred to her as a woman instead of a princess. A small thing, no doubt, but it felt huge in her own mind. Vanessa hugged the idea of Mark thinking of her as a woman instead of a princess.

Goodness knew he’d kissed her the way a man kissed a woman. There had been nothing cordial or formal about the meeting of their lips. It had been sexy and exhilarating, passionate and intense. It had been better than the best chocolate ever concocted by the royal chocolatier—and that was saying something!

Vanessa considered herself something of a connoisseur where chocolate was concerned. But she was a novice at male-female relationships. Which was ridiculous for a woman her age. She was almost thirty, for heaven’s sake. But the rules for her code of behavior were much stricter than they were for anyone else. She’d led a sheltered upbringing to put it mildly.

“As I was saying, a Von Volzemburg never lies, unless they are fighting for their freedom. Back in 1456, King Frederick put a mark on the castle saying that it was infected with the plague. It kept the enemy forces away, and the castle survived.”

“Well, you’re not going to survive the streets of New York City if you don’t fit in,” he warned her.

“I understand perfectly.”

Half an hour later, Mark stared at her in disbelief. “I thought you said you understood the concept of a disguise. Those tight-fitting jeans are sure to catch the attention of every male under the age of eighty!”

She blushed. Okay, so the jeans were tight. She’d borrowed them from Celeste, who had no derriere at all to speak of. Now Mark made her feel like a stuffed sausage in the jeans.

Sending a scorching look his way, she grabbed another outfit from the closet and marched back to the bathroom. This time he couldn’t complain about the fit of her slacks. The Valentino haute couture black pantsuit had been hand tailored to her body. The understated elegance made it a perfect fit with the silk chartreuse blouse.

Opening the door, she posed against the doorway with chic nonchalance.

Mark was clearly not impressed. “Why don’t you just put a sign around your neck saying I’m A Rich Princess, Kidnap Me.”

This Marine was really starting to aggravate her now. “What kind of disguise are you proposing? Marx Brothers glasses and a mustache? Perhaps you’d like me to wear a Charlie Chaplin costume and swing a cane around?”

“Nothing that drastic will be required, although you are getting a little closer to what I’m aiming for here. Tone down the sex appeal.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Tone down the sex appeal.”

“I’ll have you know that this suit was designed by Valentino.”

“I don’t care if it was designed by the pope, it makes you look too…” He made a motion with his hands.

Was that some kind of Marine sign language? “Too what?”

“Too good. Tone down your looks. Here, while you were in the bathroom I checked in my bag. I’ve got some sweats you can borrow.”

“Sweats?” she repeated as if he’d said a dirty word.

“Sweatpants and a sweatshirt.” He held them out for her. They were navy blue. Seeing that she made no effort to take them from him, he added, “They’re clean. I washed them before I packed them.”

“How reassuring. What’s that lump on the sweatshirt?”

“It’s a hood. We’ll put a baseball cap on your head, maybe add a flannel shirt, and presto, you’re no longer a princess.”

“No, I’m dressed like a bum.”

“Listen, Princess, we’re not aiming for any fashion awards,” he growled. “Our goal is to get out of here without being noticed.”

“And you don’t think someone dressed so disreputably in such an elite hotel isn’t going to garner attention?”

She had a point. Mark wasn’t pleased to have to admit that. He hadn’t been thinking clearly since he’d seen her in those skintight jeans. “All right. So wear the jeans and the T-shirt Celeste got from the gift shop.”

“You said I looked fat in those jeans.”

He gave her a startled look. “I did not.”

“You said, and I quote you here, that the jeans were ‘tight fitting.”’

“Yeah. So?”

“So that means I’m too fat for them.”

He rolled his eyes. “It means that you looked too good in them.”

“That’s not how it sounded to me.”

“Look, I’m not going to stand here and debate the issue with you.” He tossed the discarded T-shirt at her. “Put this back on along with the jeans and this sweatshirt. And tuck your hair under this Yankees baseball cap.”

“You’re a baseball fan?”

“Of course. I suppose you prefer cricket or polo maybe?”

“Actually I love basketball, but the NBA hasn’t been the same since Michael Jordan retired.” She had the pleasure of seeing his startled expression before she closed the bathroom door.

Vanessa did the best she could with what she had in hand. She’d discarded her jewelry but felt naked with nothing around her neck, so she put on the St. Christopher medal her mother had given her when she was a child. Studying her reflection in the mirror, she didn’t recognize herself. Which was a good thing, right? Anton, her security guard, wouldn’t recognize her either then.

Vanessa definitely wouldn’t win any fashion contests. She’d deliberately omitted her normal beauty routine and had opted for a natural-colored lipstick as her only makeup.

Opening the bathroom door, she informed Mark, “This is my final outfit. I’m not changing clothes again.”

“You’ll do.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Let’s go. I believe you mentioned something about a fast-food restaurant on that list of yours. You feel like eating tacos or burgers?”

“What about clothes? I can’t walk out of here with the things on my back and nothing else.”

His hand dropped to his side and his mocking smile returned. “Of course you can’t. Why don’t we pack up the royal luggage, and then we’ll go to Burger King?”

“Stop making fun of me.”

“Then stop being ridiculous. I already put some of your stuff in my bag. The more you carry the harder it is to slip out unnoticed.”

“You touched my things?”

She made him sound like a pervert who’d been pawing through her lingerie drawer. He was just following orders here. “Look, all I did was take some necessary items of clothing.”

“Show me.”

“Fine.” He yanked the zip open on his duffel bag and showed her what he’d packed.

“That won’t do.” She pulled out the sheer pink underwear and silk shirt. Marching over to the dresser, she proceeded to select other lingerie.

“We don’t have all day,” he growled.

She hesitated, still distracted by the thought of him touching her most intimate apparel. The image made her hot all over.

In the end, Vanessa wasn’t sure what she stuffed into his duffel bag, it certainly wasn’t much. Some sensible underwear, a few tops. She decided she could buy the rest. She had some American money with her.

“Are you ready, Princess?” he inquired mockingly.

“Yes, Captain, I am. Are you?”

“A Marine is always ready for whatever comes,” Mark automatically stated, but inside he was thinking that this mission was already turning out to be far more complicated than he’d anticipated.

Chapter Four

“Now what?” Vanessa whispered as she stood beside him next to the door leading from her bedroom to the hotel hallway. “Do you have a plan?”

“Of course I have a plan. I’m a Marine Corps officer. That’s what we do. Plan.”

“So what is the plan?”

“While you were getting dressed, I asked Celeste to order lunch for you. Room service should be coming along anytime now….”

“Actually the food is cooked by the royal chef in the hotel kitchen, and then a valet from the royal household brings up the meal. It’s royal protocol. To prevent anyone from tampering with the food.”

“What, no royal taster?”

He was half kidding but she replied, “He stays with my father at all times and doesn’t travel with me.”

Boy, did she live in a different universe than he did. Cracking open the door just a tad, Mark looked down the hallway. The elevator doors opened.

“Ah, here he comes. Get ready to move on my command.” Carefully closing the door, he waited as the valet went past that doorway to the main door leading to the elaborate suite. That’s where Anton was stationed. From there the royal guard had a clear view down both sides of the hallway. “We need to slip out while Anton’s attention is on that valet. Celeste said she’d distract him. I sure hope we can trust her.”

“I trust her with my life,” Vanessa said.

Mark wasn’t accustomed to trusting anyone other than a fellow Marine with his life. Sure he’d trust his own family, but they were all Marines, too. “Let’s go.” He hurried her through the door and down the hallway to the elevator.

Vanessa’s heart beat faster as adrenaline flew through her body. She was doing it, she was making her great escape! Her adventure was about to begin. She couldn’t wait.

Her hand was clasped in Mark’s as he kept their pace leisurely and deliberate. Running down the hall was sure to garner unwanted attention.

Never had a hallway seemed so long. Finally they reached the elevator doors. Vanessa tried not to grin like a fool. Freedom. She could almost taste it.

Eyeing the reflection in the mirrored panel above the elevator’s call button, Mark suddenly swore under his breath and tugged her into his arms.

“Play along with me,” he whispered urgently, his lips almost touching hers. “Anton is watching us. I have to kiss you, so pretend you’re hot for me and kiss me back.”

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