The Princess and The Masked Man. Valerie Parv

couldn’t bring himself to promise anything while his gaze kept being pulled on invisible strings to where Giselle sat among her admirers.

      Among a crowd of glittering people, she seemed to glow. Everything about her, from her crowned head to her slippered feet, shone with a brilliance that threatened to dazzle him. The mask prevented him from seeing all of her face but he had seen her picture often enough to know that her skin was flawless and porcelain toned, her opalescent gaze deep enough for a man to drown in.

      He felt desire stirring, and warning bells rang in his brain. It didn’t escape him that her lack of availability might be the reason he felt so strongly attracted to her. Coward, he told himself. Fixating on a woman he couldn’t have was one way to avoid getting back into a game he had sworn he had given up two years before.

      He hauled in a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something noncommittal to Elaine, but she spoke first. “It’s almost midnight. I should see if the princess needs me for anything.” She replaced the champagne glass on a waiter’s tray. “Thanks for the dance.”

      Bryce inclined his head in agreement. “Thank you, Elaine. I’ll see you around the castle.”

      But she was already weaving her way through the crowd to Giselle’s side. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him.

      Elaine was exactly the sort of woman he should be interested in, he told himself. She was attractive, with a good sense of humor and the patience of a saint to put up with his inattention tonight, and she was obviously interested in him. She had even shown an interest in Amanda. What more did he need?

      Fireworks, that’s what. Candlelit dinners. Nights on satin sheets. The whole romantic ball of wax. The kind he’d known with Yvette, when they were starry-eyed with the wonder of love and the joy of their beautiful girl child.

      At first they hadn’t known anything was wrong, blaming the demands of a young child on Yvette’s constant feeling of lethargy. When it persisted, she’d consulted doctor after doctor, being referred to one specialist after another. None could say with certainty why stray proteins were cluttering up her blood, and what it meant.

      Not that a precise diagnosis would have made much difference. Over the years, despite valiant efforts at treatment, she had grown progressively weaker until she had begged him to make the doctors stop trying. Contrarily, once they did, she had rallied, giving him a glimmer of hope that she might recover against all odds.

      When she started to spiral down again, he had sought out alternative therapies, from vitamin treatments to people who could supposedly heal by touch, anything and everything. For a short time her condition would seem to improve, only to continue once more on her inexorable downward path.

      Even then, they had managed to snatch happiness from despair. Yvette had never been one for self-pity, and she had loved romance. He remembered bringing her a single Carramer orchid, a perfect specimen in a vivid cerulean hue that reflected her eyes. They had filled with tears of pleasure at the sight of the bloom.

      At an earlier, happier time, they had picnicked with Amanda in the rain forest on the slopes of Mount Mayat, not far from the Nuee Trail, where young riders pitted themselves against the mountain in a rite of passage to adulthood.

      Watching a group of riders set out, Yvette had spoken of her dream to one day ride the trail as a family. He wasn’t sure if anyone else had done that, and his excitement had quickened at the prospect. Not of conquering the mountain, but of sharing the adventure with the two most important people in his world.

      Amanda had taken her first steps that day, he recalled, his mouth curving in nostalgia. The moment had been as much a rite of passage for her as riding the trail had been for the teenagers. He could still see his golden child pushing herself to her feet on the blanket and stumbling toward her mother, her baby eyes wide with astonishment at her own achievement.

      That night he and Yvette had celebrated the milestone with a truly spectacular lovemaking, afterward wondering if they had created a brother or sister for Amanda. He had enjoyed ten magical years with Yvette, filling them with laughter and romance in spite of everything, because they had been determined to make it so.

      After that, how could he settle for less?

      The long and the short of it was, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. The pain accompanying the memories was too sharp. Unthinkable to put himself through it a second time.

      A pang gripped him. How had he gone from thinking about a mother for Amanda, to dreaming of romance, and being gripped by needs so strong he could practically taste them? Not because of Elaine, he knew. There was only one woman in the ballroom capable of making him feel like this, and she didn’t even know she had done it.

      He suspected that Princess Giselle would be horrified at his thinking. She had her own romantic agenda, and he wasn’t part of it. In spite of the rumors about her and Robert Gaudet, Bryce had caught her disapproving reaction at hearing that she could only become Keeper of the Castle if she was married. Much as she obviously coveted the job, the princess didn’t strike him as a woman who could be forced into anything.

      It didn’t stop him from wanting her.

      Giselle’s equerry rose from a deep curtsy. “It’s almost midnight, Your Highness. I came to see if there’s anything you need.”

      “Very thoughtful of you, but there’s nothing for the moment. Have you enjoyed the ball?”

      “I’ve had a great time. From the talk around me, this is the best Spring Ball ever.”

      “I’m glad to hear it.”

      She saw Elaine’s glance go to her bandaged foot. “I realize it hasn’t been fun for you, but…”

      “It’s all right, Elaine. I may not have been on the dance floor but I’ve talked my head off tonight.” With the ease of long practice she stifled a yawn before anyone saw her. “Speaking of dancing, you seemed to enjoy the last waltz.”

      She saw her assistant color under the mask. “I had a fascinating partner. He wouldn’t give me a single clue to his identity.”

      Me neither, Giselle thought, stifling her disappointment along with another yawn. She had hoped Elaine might have learned something about her mystery man.

      He wasn’t her mystery man, she reminded herself. He was either a friend of Maxim’s or Eduard’s, or a castle employee and she would have her answer as soon as the masks came off. No mystery about him.

      “He did say he’s new to the castle,” Elaine volunteered.

      All Giselle had to do was access the castle’s security files and find out who had been given clearance to attend tonight’s ball. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She could eliminate the guests she knew by sight, and those who had, contrary to custom, told her their names. She had been assisting her brother to administer the Merrisand Trust since she was twenty-one. Few names on the guest list would be totally unfamiliar to her.

      “He has a ten-year-old daughter, but I’m willing to bet he isn’t married,” Elaine said.

      Annoyed to feel a sudden sharpening of interest, Giselle asked, “What makes you think so?”

      “He told me he’s out of practice at dancing, and he came to the ball alone.”

      She told herself she was only interested for her equerry’s sake, not her own. She had known Elaine since they were both teenagers, so they were as close to being friends as Giselle’s position allowed. She didn’t want to see the other woman get hurt.

      “His partner may have stayed at home with their child,” the princess suggested, not liking the agitation that accompanied this idea.

      Elaine chewed her lip. “It could explain why he didn’t seem eager to see me again, although I dropped a few hints. Not even to meet when the masks come off, so he can find out what I look like. Perhaps you’re right, he already has a partner.”

      “Perhaps.” To her frustration, Giselle found