Читать книгу: «The Simply Scandalous Princess»

Chapter One

It wasn’t necessarily a dirty job, but someone had to do it. As always, Sir Harrison Montcalm, retired general of the Korosol Royal Army, was that man.

He glanced at his watch as he waited for the private elevator that would take him upstairs. One thing he always prided himself on was his punctuality. Never, in all his years of being a trusted adviser, had he been late for a meeting with King Easton, ruler of Korosol.

As Harrison stepped inside the elevator, he brushed off a piece of lint that dared to alight on the left sleeve of his custom navy suit. One other thing Harrison had always prided himself on was his appearance. At forty-five, he still kept his six-foot frame perfectly fit. Now, of course, it took him an extra half hour in the gym to keep trim, and he’d long ago given up worrying or caring anything about the graying temples that graced his dark brown hair.

As the constant companion to the king, Harrison knew his appearance was important. He was nearly always by the king’s side. Besides, if a seventy-eight-year-old King Easton could look fifteen years younger, Harrison figured he could too.

He contemplated that as the elevator silently whirred upward.

Not that he’d want to be thirty again. His son Devon would turn thirty in just two years, and Harrison was glad that Devon, a captain of the Royal Guard, hadn’t had the wild, careless youth that Harrison had had.

Getting someone pregnant at age seventeen and marrying her out of duty wasn’t a life he’d wish on anyone. Then again, duty was all Harrison really knew.

And it was duty, and a loving devotion to King Easton, that drove Harrison. He’d do anything for his king, and that included doing the upcoming job he dreaded. Even taking a bullet for Easton twenty years ago had been easier. He’d simply reacted, loyalty and duty instinctive.

He’d been knighted for his bravery, which had only committed Harrison further into the service of his beloved king.

Harrison glanced at his watch again. For some reason, today the elevator seemed slower than normal. He tapped his forefinger on the mahogany panel. He was overreacting.

He had to admit the truth.

It wasn’t his appearance, or his age, or his failed marriage that bothered him right now. No, what was bothering him was the upcoming job that King Easton wanted him to do.

For the first time in his life, Harrison wished he wasn’t the most trusted adviser and that someone else could fill his role. The upcoming assignment was a job that Harrison knew he would be uncomfortable doing.

Sure, he’d handled worse jobs, dirtier jobs, and even more dangerous jobs. But this job…For once he dreaded duty.

As Harrison stepped off the elevator, Eleanor, King Easton’s secretary, stood. “Right on time,” she said. “He said to send you straight in as soon as you arrived.”

“Thanks, Ellie.” The plush carpet muffled the sound of Harrison’s Italian shoes.

“You’re welcome,” Ellie answered in English. A slight accent tinged her voice. Although French was the official language of Korosol, while in America, the royal party spoke fluent English. Ellie nodded toward double doors that marked the entrance to the inner sanctum of the king’s American embassy office. A gold Korosolan seal adorned each of the heavy mahogany doors. “Between you and me, he’s particularly agitated today.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Harrison said with what he hoped passed for a reassuring smile.

He and Ellie had become good friends from working so closely with the king these past few years, and Harrison knew that underneath her dowdy skirts and her large glasses, Eleanor Standish had the makings of a knockout. It was probably good she hadn’t discovered it yet, he mused, or some young man would have snatched the twenty-six-year-old from Easton’s service. Right now, with the king’s health being questionable, the monarch needed to be Ellie’s full focus.

Harrison knocked on the door, the sharp staccato echoing as he waited for Easton’s “Enter.” Upon hearing it, Harrison walked into the king’s sanctum.

“Ah, right on time as usual,” Easton said. He glanced up from where he sat behind a large desk. As Harrison approached, Easton put a stack of papers aside.

Harrison executed a bow, one perfected over the years. By now Easton had stopped asking Harrison to perform it. He’d long ago learned that no matter how many times he told Harrison not to bow when they were alone, the younger man would always observe proper etiquette when greeting his king.

“Your Grace,” Harrison said. His eyes narrowed as his gaze studied the king. Easton looked a little paler today. Despite his advanced age, Easton still had a full head of gray hair. It may have thinned, but it still made him look younger. Today, however, Easton just looked tired and drawn. He even seemed slightly shrunken, not quite the six feet that still commanded a formidable but wise presence even when seated. Harrison made one more quick assessment of the king’s appearance. With the stress he’d been under lately Harrison wasn’t too surprised.

Easton hadn’t been in New York City for twenty years. That year had been traumatic for Easton. First there had been the failed assassination attempt. Then, following quickly on the heels of that tragedy, King Easton had had to travel to America to bury his youngest son, Drake. He had died when his private plane crashed.

Recently diagnosed with a rare blood condition of unknown origin, King Easton wouldn’t be in America now if he didn’t desperately need to name an heir to the Korosolan throne.

The trip so far hadn’t been successful. Easton’s first two choices, Drake’s oldest daughters, had both turned down the opportunity to be successor to the crown.

Harrison knew that Easton didn’t need any more stress on his already overfull plate.

“Sit down, Harrison.” Easton gestured to a chair. “I’m sure you suspect why I’ve called you here for this meeting.”

“I believe I do,” Harrison replied as he sat in the overstuffed leather armchair strategically placed in front of Easton’s desk.

He waited for the king to speak. When in private with Harrison, Easton abstained from using what he called his “public speaking persona.”

Easton nodded soberly and drew in a long breath before beginning. Then he cut right to the chase. “With CeCe and Amelia now being married, and refusing the crown, that leaves only my granddaughter Lucia.”

At Easton’s mention of Charlotte Carradigne’s youngest daughter, Harrison’s gut churned. Only years of practice allowed him to school his face into a neutral mask. He pushed the image of the beautiful blonde out of his mind. He didn’t need to think of Lucia. She’d already haunted him enough.

“Lucia is all I have left of Drake’s lineage to be queen,” Easton stated flatly. “I didn’t think it would come to this, but it has. I thought it would be simple, name CeCe and go home. As we know, that didn’t happen.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Harrison said. Then, because only he could take the liberties afforded to him as the king’s right-hand man, he said, “I know how disappointed you are that your plans went awry. But do you think Lucia is suitable?”

Easton sighed before replying, and Harrison saw at once how deeply the whole matter truly had affected his beloved king. “You know me so well, Harrison. In fact, I wonder if Drake had lived, if he and I would have shared the friendship we do.”

Easton’s hand shook slightly as he reached slowly for the crystal goblet in front of him. As usual, Ellie had already refilled it with fresh ice water.

Before continuing, Easton took a long drink. “To answer your question, I don’t know about Lucia’s suitability. I never would have questioned it, except for the tabloid article.”

“It was quite embarrassing,” Harrison agreed.

“Exactly. Krissy Katwell is a menace.” Easton named with distaste the tabloid columnist that kept digging up and exposing the Carradigne family skeletons.

“That woman is dragging the Carradigne name through the proverbial mud,” the king said. “This latest mess, interviewing Lucia’s ex-fiancé is reprehensible. She quoted him as saying my granddaughter is a fast-and-loose woman.”

Easton’s forehead creased and Harrison winced. Easton’s stress level had just visibly risen, making his face appear even more drawn. “Of course,” Easton continued, “the tabloid article leaves out the fact that the man was a gold digger only after the family fortune. Have you seen any unacceptable behavior?”

Only my own. Harrison shook his head. “I saw no inappropriate behavior on Lucia’s part at the wedding reception a month or two ago, sir. Even though she brought a rock musician as a date to CeCe’s wedding to Shane O’Connell, she displayed nothing but the utmost decorum. She behaved as any princess should.”

Except when she trembled in my arms. Harrison pushed that unsettling thought away. That memory was forbidden, and he didn’t need or want to remember that. Lucia Carradigne was strictly off-limits, and should have been that night as well. He should have known better, been more prepared.

Easton didn’t seem to sense his friend’s momentary discomfort. “Although at CeCe’s reception Lucia behaved properly, I can’t risk any more negative press. To my subjects, Krissy Katwell has made Lucia sound like, well, for lack of a better word, a tramp.”

“Surely not,” Harrison said, meaning the extent of the tabloid’s damage to the princess’s reputation with the people of Korosol.

Easton misunderstood, thinking Harrison meant the tabloid’s damage to Lucia personally. “Of course Lucia isn’t a tramp. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. I wish we could sue Katwell for libel, but this is America, not Korosol. What my people must be thinking is beyond me.”

Harrison kept his mouth shut. He knew that Easton knew exactly what was occurring in Korosol, and as usual, that Easton had his fingers firmly on the pulse of his people’s views.

Easton straightened up against the back of his leather executive chair. “I need you to investigate Lucia, Harrison. I know I told you to do it earlier, but now it’s truly a priority. Time is of the essence. I must be certain that she’s fit to be queen of Korosol. I must be sure she doesn’t have any other so-called skeletons hiding in her closet, that she’s not pregnant, like CeCe was, or already married like Amelia was to Nicholas Standish.”

Harrison’s facade never changed as he looked at Easton. He’d heard this before, and Easton’s repetitiveness only emphasized the seriousness of the situation. “Yes, sir. This is a wise move on your part, and it’s a job I’m qualified to do.”

“She’s a smart one, my granddaughter Lucia,” Easton said with a slight, reminiscing smile. “She reminds me of her father. Headstrong. Independent. Dating the wrong types.”

Harrison merely nodded. He’d put off the inevitable, and now he had no choice. He’d have to be face-to-face with Lucia. Again. Facing her would be worse than facing a bullet, and he knew from actual experience how that felt.

“Harrison—” Easton’s voice called Harrison back to the present “—I truly believe that all Lucia needs is to find her true calling, as Drake did when he met Charlotte and fell in love.”

A faraway look came over Easton’s face. “I had such fears for Drake, but after he met Charlotte they were all for naught. He gave up his inappropriate playboy lifestyle and settled down. He became the perfect father and businessman. Just look at what he did with DeLacey Shipping.”

Easton placed his arms across his chest and leaned back farther in his chair. “I feel Lucia will be the same way. All she needs is guidance and direction. Like Drake, she’s the youngest child. I’ve found that the baby of the family often becomes spoiled. Since no one really bothers them much, they often do whatever they want. Maybe it’s because by that point parents are too tired from fighting with the older ones, or in this case, one parent died when the children were young. Regardless, my youngest granddaughter has become quite successful in her own right. Her jewelry is lovely, just look at the brooch she gave CeCe and the pendant she gave Amelia.”

“They were beautiful,” Harrison agreed. Here at least was a neutral topic, one that didn’t spark emotions he shouldn’t feel. “And she did provide the most exquisite pieces for that woman who just won the Golden Globe for Best Actress. What was her name? Kimberly something?”

“Exactly.” Easton nodded. “Lucia has so much undeveloped potential. She moves easily amongst celebrities, the upper crust of society, and even what we’d refer to as the common man. With a little guidance, and if she has no secrets, I believe that she could make a perfect queen for Korosol.”

Harrison nodded his agreement, unnaturally wishing to shorten the meeting. Normally, once their business was concluded, he and Easton would talk on miscellaneous topics, sometimes for hours. “I will step up the investigation immediately.”

“Good. When I first came to America in February I made it quite clear to the Carradignes that one of them would be my heir. Now it’s April and I’ve wasted enough time. Lucia knows her two sisters were my first choices. Now that they’ve declined, obviously Lucia knows she’s next. So, I’ve requested her to come to the embassy tomorrow at three.”

“Tomorrow,” Harrison echoed. He’d see her tomorrow. His mask slipped. “So soon.”

“Is that a problem?”

Harrison blinked and focused. He’d spoken the words aloud, which was totally uncharacteristic of him. “Tomorrow is fine.”

“Good. I don’t have any more time to waste.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Harrison replied. Tomorrow he would see her again. He stiffened. He had a job to do, and he knew he must remember that. Lucia Carradigne was only a job; that was all. Harrison again focused on Easton. Instead of dismissing him, Easton was still speaking. Harrison tried to pay attention.

“Do yourself one favor,” Easton said. “Be honest with Lucia about what you are doing. Tell her you are investigating her. Tell her that if I name her, you will help school her in Korosolan etiquette and customs. Our culture is different from her American upbringing. If I choose her, I don’t want her changing her mind. Tell her anything she needs to know to be a suitable queen.”

The words came out automatically, although in his mouth they tasted like sandpaper. “I can do that,” Harrison replied. I hope.

Easton broke into a wide grin, as if for the first time in a while he’d heard good news. “Excellent. Besides, this will be the perfect time for you to get to know Lucia. If my plan works as I desire, I’ll get my heir to the throne and you’ll have a daughter-in-law.”

Harrison felt as if someone had punched him in the solar plexus. Ever since CeCe’s wedding over a month ago, it had been apparent to everyone that Easton was playing matchmaker. However, until now, he had never actually voiced the words that he wanted Lucia married to Harrison’s son.

Harrison swallowed and somehow managed to answer without revealing how unsettling the thought of Lucia being with Devon was. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Perfect. Report back to me tomorrow on how the first interview went. I want to know everything. Now, call Ellie in here. I’m feeling rather tired, and I believe I’ll go back to Charlotte’s apartment and rest.”

“You are feeling—”

“Fine.” Easton abruptly cut off Harrison’s statement of concern. “I have a few years left in me, and I refuse to believe that whatever this disease I’ve contracted is incurable like the doctors maintain. Now, fetch Ellie for me, and I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Harrison rose and executed another perfect bow before turning and leaving Easton’s office.

Upon seeing Harrison, Ellie rose and immediately went into the office. Harrison stepped into the embassy’s private elevators and pushed the button. He was staying in the staff apartments on the fifth floor, and the light glowed ominously, as if sealing his fate.

He’d known this “investigation” was inherent, and for once, he’d put it off. Easton had had to ask twice. Although the monarch didn’t seem to mind, Harrison had procrastinated. He never hesitated. He always took the initiative, even finishing tasks early. But not this time.

His reasoning was simple. He couldn’t tell Easton everything. He couldn’t tell him the truth. For how could he tell his king, his boss, his friend, that he’d already compromised his position? It had happened over a month ago, the very moment he had first set eyes on Lucia Carradigne at her sister’s wedding reception.

CECE’S WEDDING.

As usual, work had come before pleasure. Thus, Sir Harrison Montcalm had missed all the glitz and glitter of the society event of the season—the wedding of CeCe Carradigne and Shane O’Connell. He hadn’t minded. He loved his job.

Therefore, he had been at the embassy checking to see if there were any rumors from Korosol or within the local Korosolan community about Markus’s activities. Harrison relished this job. Deep in his gut Harrison never had liked the king’s grandson. Harrison’s dislike ran so deep that he suspected Markus was responsible for his parents’ deaths over a year ago, a suspicion brought to him and Easton by some of Byrum and Sarah’s friends who had been on the safari at the same time. It was an awful suspicion to have, but Harrison knew how much Prince Markus wanted the throne. But had the king’s grandson stooped to murder? Harrison was determined to find out.

So duty had come before pleasure and Harrison had arrived at the wedding reception after it was already in full swing, long after the dinner plates of the multiple courses had been whisked away. He’d arrived just in time to watch Devon get rid of the very uninvited Krissy Katwell.

And then he’d seen her.

Whoever she was, she was beautiful.

He’d never been partial to blondes, but her dark blond hair perfected her radiant skin tone. The silken strands hung in loose ringlets around her face.

Her smile was wide and wonderful, and just seeing her direct it at someone else had the power to stop Harrison’s heart.

Her ball gown’s color challenged angels in its brilliance. The striped, form-fitting gown in the Korosolan colors of royal blue and silver only accented her radiance. What little makeup she wore only enhanced her natural beauty.

Even from where he stood on the edge of the dance floor, he could see that her eyes were green. How he could see her eyes from ten feet away was incomprehensible, but somehow Harrison could see, and he just knew.

From afar he basked in her glow, feasting on her beauty like a thirsty man seeing water. For a moment time seemed to stop, and frozen there he knew he’d never felt this way before.

She seemed to sense his scrutiny, for she turned her head and ran her gaze quickly over him. He felt the electric shock from just her look. Then the waltz turned her graceful body away from him.

As the connection broke, Harrison shook himself. Way too young, he told himself simply. Whoever she was, from the way she moved and looked he guessed her to be not more than twenty-six. He had a son older than that.

“Excuse me.”

Harrison started as a soft, feminine voice floated over to him. He turned slightly, and there she was. In heels she stood just about eye to eye with his six-foot figure. Up close, her willowy grace was pure beauty, and he blinked just to see if she was truly real or simply the vision of a lonely man.

She touched his sleeve, her fingertips light as feathers. “Would you care to dance?”

Would he? He shouldn’t. Excuses rose to his lips. “I…”

“Please,” she said softly, her voice a mere silken whisper. “From your uniform I know you’re Korosolan, and I would be so grateful. See that man coming this way?” She gestured a manicured finger toward a man headed in their direction. His bright red hair offset his freckles and contrasted with his ill-fitting tuxedo. “That’s Larry Zimmer, and no matter how many times I say no, he can’t get the picture. Would you perform the duty of helping a lady in distress?”

“I would be honored to,” Harrison said. Under the guise of duty, he took the arm she offered. A frisson of desire shot through him as he guided her to the dance floor.

She linked her hands to his. “Thank you,” she said as another waltz began.

Harrison struggled to make light of the moment as he led her around the dance floor. “So you would rather dance with an old man to escape a young one?”

As if she found his comment funny, her smile widened. “What old man? You mean my grandfather? We danced earlier.”

Harrison returned her smile with one of his own. “I meant…”

“I know what you meant,” she said simply. Her green-eyed gaze held his. “But I figured you needed an excuse. If not, you may never have asked me.”

He wouldn’t have, either. “You’re right,” he admitted.

“I know,” she replied. “So I helped you along.”

Was this woman magic? She’d somehow seen right through him.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. And he was. For holding her felt as if he was holding a slice of heaven.

As the music shifted pace, he drew her a little closer. She smelled like roses, and her skin felt like the softest silk. There, during the moments on the dance floor, Harrison found himself feeling younger, feeling more alive than he’d been in years.

His fingers once grazed the small of her back, and an electric tremor shot through him as her eyes darkened to jade.

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” she said.

Speak again, Harrison thought, for to my ears your words are like the purest music.

“As are you,” he replied instead.

She simply acknowledged his return compliment with a slight inclination of her head.

Time never stops for love, Harrison thought as the musical number drew to an end.

“I believe he’s gone,” he whispered as he guided her off the dance floor.

“He is, but I’d still like to dance with you,” she said. “Perhaps this next number?”

“There you are!”

Harrison turned as King Easton came up to him. Being the same height, and after working with the king for such a long time, Harrison wondered why he hadn’t noticed the particular color of Easton’s eyes before. They reminded him of…

“I see you’ve met Lucia.”

Harrison turned to see whom Easton was referring to.

“Hello again, Grandfather,” Lucia replied. She kept her fingers lightly on Harrison’s arm. “Are you enjoying the reception?”

“Absolutely,” Easton replied. He gestured, and Harrison watched as his son, Devon, came forward. “Here she is, Devon. She was dancing with your father. Now take her out on the dance floor. Lucia’s too young to spend her time with all us elderly types.”

Harrison grimaced. How old that made him sound!

Lucia gently removed her fingers. “Thank you for the dance,” she said politely.

Devon gave her a low bow. “May I have this dance, Princess Lucia?”

“You may, Sir Montcalm,” she said as she took his arm.

Harrison watched her go. She glanced back over at him, and then as if remembering her role, she slid into a neutral facade and followed Devon’s lead.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” King Easton asked. “While I’m partial to CeCe’s beauty because she’s so much like my beloved Cassandra,” Easton mentioned his deceased wife, “one has to admit that Lucia has an innate beauty that is all her own.”

“Indeed,” Harrison somehow managed to agree noncommittally. The woman he had been dancing with was Princess Lucia!

“They make such a perfect couple.” Easton nodded with a contented smile. “Don’t you agree?”

Harrison looked at where his son held Lucia. She’d bowed her head, and was listening to something he said. A pang of jealousy shot through him. He tamped it down. His duty was, as always, to his king. “They make a good couple,” he stated, although his heart wasn’t anywhere near the words.

“I think so,” Easton said, obviously pleased that Lucia and Devon were beginning their second dance. “Ah, there’s Charlotte. Please excuse me, Harrison.”

Harrison bowed as the king moved away. Then he turned and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He’d had nothing to drink all evening, for Harrison never drank while in any type of royal capacity, but for tonight he’d make an exception with one glass.

After all, when the woman of your dreams is designated for your son, a little champagne can’t hurt.

“Shall we dance again?”

He tensed. He’d know her voice anywhere; already it had imbedded itself into his consciousness and into his soul.

“That wouldn’t be proper, Princess Lucia,” he replied, his tone deliberately cool.

“Proper?” Lucia frowned. Then a small tight smile came over her face. “Ah, Sir Harrison Mont-calm, man of duty, is back in full armor.” She saw his surprise. “Your son spent most of his time talking about you, and your many accomplishments.” She lifted a glass of champagne from a waiter and drained it in two gulps.

“Well, Sir Harrison Montcalm, I’m sure someone will fill you in that I’m not always proper. In fact, my date is that rock musician over there. I only brought him because it would annoy my mother, and keep her from playing matchmaker.”

With a thump, Lucia placed her empty champagne flute on a nearby table. Harrison winced for the flute.

“While I know all the correct etiquette, I find most of it boring and plain dull,” Lucia said.

She stepped toward him, her voice lowered for emphasis. “For some reason I thought you were different. I felt a connection between us, something I can’t exactly explain. I wanted to explore it, for whatever it was, I thought it was special.”

How her words hurt. Harrison so wanted to tell her that yes, he had felt it too. But duty came first. It always did.