The Simply Scandalous Princess. Michele Dunaway

you too, Harrison. I trust I’m finding you well?”

      “Of course,” he said, realizing too late that somehow she’d already gained the upper hand by again calling him by his first name.

      “Are you going to be present for this interview, Sir Devon?” As Lucia turned and faced the younger man, Harrison took a moment to study what Lucia wore. He’d heard she usually wore bohemian-type clothing, like flowing skirts and peasant blouses. But today was different. Like at the wedding reception, she appeared regal, refined. Her pale pink trouser suit celebrated the start of spring. The color suited her.

      “No, Princess. I was just leaving. If you’d please excuse me.” Devon bowed again and posted a hasty retreat.

      Lucia turned and faced Harrison. He managed to swallow, and somehow years of training kept his face immobile. That was until she turned on the charm and smiled widely again the moment they were alone. “Yes, I must say that it’s good to see you, Harrison. I’ve been looking forward to this interview ever since my grandfather called me and told me about it.”

      Harrison somehow managed an appropriate gesture to a seat. As Lucia sat down, her perfume wafted past him. She smelled like roses again.

      She looked expectantly at him. “So if you’re ready?”

      Inwardly Harrison groaned. Where Lucia was concerned, he doubted he would ever be ready.

      SHE HADN’T MEANT to be late. But someone had slipped down onto the subway tracks, delaying the trains uptown for a good half hour.

      Lucia settled herself into the chair as Harrison brought her a glass of ice water. Perhaps she should have taken a taxicab as her mother always insisted. After all, as the past two months had demonstrated, she was a princess, and therefore she could technically be a target of a kidnapping attempt. But still Lucia valued her anonymity too much to give it up yet.

      She thrived in New York City’s sea of anonymous faces. A people-watcher by nature, Lucia credited a lot of her creative genius to just watching the interactions of the everyday world. The panhandler holding the cup in Times Square had inspired a collection of dimpled platinum pins. The mother nursing her child on a Central Park bench had inspired a series of interlocking linked gold bracelets with birthstones.

      Even today, the successful rescue mission had been, in a sense, inspirational. New Yorkers working together—Lucia could already visualize the brooches of intertwined pieces of silver and gold metal.

      If only she and Harrison could work together. Couldn’t he feel the frisson of electricity that passed through their fingertips every time they touched, like now as he handed her the water?

      “Thank you,” she said.

      “You’re welcome,” Harrison replied. As he sat down across from her, she took a minute to sip her water and study him.

      What was it about this man? Ever since she’d first set eyes on him, from across the dance floor, everything about him had impressed her.

      She’d never been partial to short, military-style haircuts, but on Harrison, she couldn’t imagine any other thing. She’d never even thought she’d be attracted to a military man. They were too by the book, too punctual, too precise. But, with what little she’d learned of Harrison since the wedding reception, she couldn’t imagine him any other way.

      “I’ve rescheduled my four-o’clock appointment so we have all the time necessary,” Harrison told her.

      “Oh, I’m sorry,” Lucia began. Then she stopped. She was a princess. Of course he would reschedule for her. But she didn’t like the idea that he thought she’d deliberately been late. Perhaps she should tell him about the subway. She sipped her water and contemplated it for a moment. No, just like her mother, he’d probably disapprove of her public-transport choices. She kept silent.

      “I must ask your pardon for the nature of the questions that I’m going to have to ask, Princess,” Harrison said. “Some of them may be personal. You, of course, do not need to answer any that you do not wish to. This is not an interrogation.”

      “Yes, my grandfather explained it to me.” Lucia nodded. “He wants to determine my suitability. After my sisters, I don’t blame him.”

      Harrison arched his eyebrows. “You don’t? Excuse me, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

      “You can ask what you wish,” Lucia said. “And of course, I do not blame my grandfather, especially after what’s happened.” Lucia shook her head vigorously, which caused her hair to fall in her face. She brushed the blond strands back. “CeCe was pregnant, and Amelia already secretly married. I just hope I don’t disappoint him as well. Whereas my grandfather and I have not seen each other in years, I do care for him a great deal.”

      “Well.” Harrison coughed. “Your suitability is what we’ll try to determine. First, if King Easton does declare you his heir, I must know if you are willing to accept the full role and all it entails. Are you willing to be the queen of Korosol?”

      Was she? For a moment Lucia thought of her mother. Now that Charlotte had warmed to the idea of one of her daughters being queen, Charlotte had become like a dog with a meaty bone. Lucia knew that, in her mother’s eyes, she was it. Charlotte had been on Lucia’s case for days, warning her not to mess this opportunity up.

      Maybe for once she wouldn’t disappoint her mother in something. Whereas her mother might wish Lucia queen, Lucia herself still had doubts. “I am quite prepared to fulfill the role if King Easton chooses me,” Lucia said, proud she managed to deliver the words without a betraying quiver in her voice.

      “Then we begin,” Harrison said.

      Lucia simply nodded, and for one childish moment wished she had someone there to hold her hand.

      “Again, Princess, I ask your pardon in the nature of these questions, but I must ask you about your ex-fiancé Gregory Barrett and the allegations he made in Krissy Katwell’s column.”

      “That what, I’m a fast-and-loose woman? In his dreams.” Hackles rose on Lucia’s spine. Realizing what her outburst must have sounded like, she covered her mouth with her fingers. “Sorry, that’s not very princesslike, but whenever I think of him, well…” She shuddered with revulsion.

      “Why don’t you tell me about him?”

      “The man is a liar and a cheat.” Lucia leaned forward, suddenly desperate to have Harrison’s approval. “I was twenty-three when we met at some art gallery premiere one of my mother’s favorite charities was hosting. I’m not sure what the cause was.”

      “That doesn’t matter,” Harrison said. He reached forward and took a Cross pen and leather portfolio off an occasional table. “Please continue.”

      She watched his fingers and thumb roll the pen between them. “You’re going to take notes?”

      Harrison looked up, and Lucia saw the surprise he quickly masked, as if his reach for the items had been more of a protective device—a need to occupy his hands as if to calm nerves. “If you don’t mind. King Easton wants a full report.”

      Lucia thought for a moment. Did she make him nervous? She’d have to contemplate that more at a later time. “No, I don’t mind.” She bit her lower lip, and then she remembered that her mother had scolded her out of that habit long ago. She set her lip free. “Gregory seemed to be just the type a girl could bring home to Mother, and actually, I guess that’s what I found attractive about him. Mother and I don’t necessarily have the best relationship.”

      She turned to Harrison. “How does that happen?”

      “What?” Harrison asked. He stopped writing, and his hazel gaze connected with Lucia’s.

      “Well, two people are related by blood yet they seem to have absolutely nothing in common. I mean, look at you and Devon. He’s following in your footsteps and obviously worships you. I’m just trouble with a capital T to my mother.”

      Harrison