The Princess and The Masked Man. Valerie Parv

mask, and she had the most tantalizing mouth. Soft, quick to smile. In a less public forum, he would have been sorely tempted to taste her. Maybe more than taste. Just as well he was constrained by the crowd.

      When she took his hand and got carefully to her feet, she felt as light as his daughter, thistledown in a designer gown, a child masquerading as a princess. Except that there was nothing remotely childish in the smile she gave him as she curled her hand more securely around his arm. He felt his insides cramp in response.

      “People will talk, you know,” she murmured.

      He crossed his free arm over his chest and covered her hand with his, telling himself it was the gentlemanly thing to do. It had nothing to do with welcoming any excuse to touch her. “Do you care, Your Highness?”

      She gave a dismissive laugh. “If I let myself worry every time someone gossiped about me, I’d be a nervous wreck.”

      The only tremors he could feel in her were at his touch, possibly a product of his wishful thinking. “Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there? Where would you like to begin?”

      “My brother’s group, if you’d kindly help me over to them.”

      Would Maxim recognize him and expose his identity to her? There was nothing for it but to comply. The prince was chatting amiably to a group, all masked as Bryce was. He hadn’t been at the castle long enough to recognize many people, even without masks, so he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he concentrated on Giselle’s melodious conversation as she did her royal duty as hostess. Her presence had added an unexpected fillip to an occasion he hadn’t expected to enjoy in the least.

      The other guests were concerned about her, of course. Surprised to see her on her feet, Bryce gathered from their comments. “Clark kindly volunteered to help me get around,” she said in a mischievous tone.

      Bryce couldn’t see Prince Maxim’s frown of puzzlement as he tried to place the newcomer, but it was in his voice as he said, “Clark?”

      “My secret identity for tonight, Your Highness,” Bryce explained, feeling himself color under his own mask. Entertaining the princess was one thing. He hadn’t planned on taking the joke any further.

      “He came to my rescue when everyone else neglected me,” she went on.

      “The day you suffer neglect, my dear Giselle, the world comes to an end,” Maxim observed. To Bryce, he said, “Normally I can’t get near her for the men swarming around her.”

      “Perhaps when I’m able to dance,” she grumbled. “Today I can barely manage a few steps without assistance.”

      Maxim’s gaze went to her arm linked with Bryce’s. “You don’t seem to be suffering greatly at this moment.”

      He was right, she wasn’t. Her foot throbbed, but the mystery of her benefactor’s identity provided a welcome distraction. Maxim had given no sign that he recognized her escort, so her brother wasn’t going to be much help. She would have to figure this out on her own.

      Although she was consumed with curiosity about the imposing stranger, part of her wanted the mystery to continue. Behind the mask he could be any man she imagined, her Prince Charming if she so chose.

      She told herself she was being capricious, but decided it couldn’t hurt for one night. Soon she would be recovered enough to return to her royal duties. Added to the affairs of the trust, and her teaching commitments at the castle school, she would have little time for fantasy.

      And that reminded her.

      “I must arrange a meeting with you and Eduard, while he’s still in Taures Province.”

      “Could we discuss that another time?” Maxim asked mildly enough, although Bryce heard the steely undercurrent in his tone.

      Giselle’s head came up. “You’ve avoided discussing it elsewhere, so you leave me little choice. Eduard returns to Valmont in two more days.”

      Bryce let his glance follow Maxim’s to where a tall, dark-haired man was holding court. Eduard, Marquis of Merrisand, his prodigious memory supplied. He was so well known that no mask could conceal his identity.

      Maxim made an impatient sound. “If it helps, I’ve already spoken to Eduard about your desire to be appointed Keeper of the Castle.”

      “And?”

      Bryce heard the expectancy in her tone and wondered at it. Maxim presently held the dual titles of administrator of the Merrisand Trust and Keeper of the Castle. Giselle evidently hoped to take over the latter position herself. The Keeper was responsible for overseeing most of the day-to-day running of the castle, a big job for such slender shoulders, Bryce thought.

      “We agree that you’re well qualified, but Eduard is as constrained by the terms of the Merrisand Charter as I am,” Maxim stated.

      She turned to Bryce. “What do you think of a charter created two hundred years ago that excludes women from the position of Keeper unless they are married?”

      Bryce tried for diplomacy. “I’d have to know more about the circumstances.”

      She wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. “What would you like to know?”

      “For example, does the restriction apply only to women?”

      “Unfortunately it does,” Maxim interceded, sounding uneasy about the admission.

      Bryce knew how his daughter would feel about that. Evidently the princess felt the same way. He didn’t entirely blame her. He couldn’t see the point of squandering half the world’s talents through an accident of gender. Something he had been unable to make Amanda’s maternal grandmother understand, or they might have parted on better terms. “Can’t the rules be updated?” he asked.

      “According to the charter, any changes must be put to the people of Taures province in a referendum. If they vote in favor, the change takes effect five years and one day from the date of the referendum.”

      Too long for Giselle to wait, he gathered when he felt her tense on his arm. “Isn’t that a touch excessive?” he asked.

      “The charter’s history is complicated,” the princess said. “Perhaps you know that the Merrisand title was conferred on our ancestor as an insult, after he fell out with the reigning monarch of the period.”

      Bryce searched his memory. “Merrisand being a term for a fool’s paradise in Carramer folklore.” In an effort to stir Amanda’s interest in the move, he had suggested she research the castle’s history on the Internet. She had gleefully reported the fool’s paradise connection to him, sounding as if she thought the description still fitted.

      “As I understand it, the first marquis turned the tables on his brother by establishing a charitable trust to help children in need, then built this castle to fund the trust’s good works. What started out as an insult became one of the most respected names in the kingdom,” he went on.

      Giselle seemed pleased with his knowledge. “Our ancestor had the five-year moratorium written into the charter to make sure the monarch couldn’t meddle easily in the trust’s affairs.”

      “Those two really got along, didn’t they?”

      She sneaked a glance at her brother, whose attention had been claimed by another guest. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

      “Not a one.” After he was born his parents had tried for more children without success. Part of the reason for the intense interest his grandfather took in Bryce, he suspected. As his parents’ sole heir, he carried all of his grandfather’s expectations on his shoulders.

      “Then you don’t know how fierce sibling rivalry can get.”

      Although she couldn’t see it, he lifted an eyebrow. “Even among royalty?”

      “We’re still human. Oh.”

      He felt her sag in his