The Princess's Proposal. Valerie Parv

“I should leave.”

      “Finish your coffee,” he urged. “We’re not in anyone’s way.”

      All the same she kept her head bent toward her companion as if they were deep in conversation. Among the press she had spotted a couple of the paparazzi who made the royal family their special targets. At least their attention was on another kind of princess for the moment, she thought gratefully, wincing as flashbulbs exploded around a glamorous young woman wearing a satin sash across a traditional leuer gown.

      “You’re on edge,” the American said when she jumped. “It’s hardly surprising. You should have your doctor check you over when you get home.”

      She looked up at him, mesmerized by his brilliant gaze. He was really worried about her, she thought. Tears prickled the backs of her eyes and she put it down to her recent brush with the drunk, but knew there was more going on here. It was so rare to have someone concern themselves with her as an individual, rather than because of her position, that she was touched in spite of herself. “It’s good advice.”

      “Then make sure you take it.”

      Another flashbulb popped, close to them this time. Miss Show Princess and her entourage had moved across the room to take advantage of the panoramic view of the fairgrounds beyond the lounge windows. It brought them to within a few feet of Adrienne’s table. Shaken, she pushed her chair back. “I really must go.”

      The American moved to her side to help her up but was jostled by one of the photographers, throwing him against Adrienne. Instinctively he reached for her, steadying her. Anyone might have done the same, but she was stunned by the eddies of awareness the contact set up in her. She put it down to her heightened vulnerability after her encounter with the cowboy, but that hardly accounted for the strength of her response. She looked up at the American in confusion.

      At that moment another flashbulb popped, then a whole barrage of them as Miss Show Princess paraded for the cameras. Adrienne used the moment to slip away toward the door, aware that the American was close behind her. “There’s no need to leave on my account,” she insisted.

      “I only came for the equestrian events,” he said. “I’ll see you home.”

      “No.” The word came out more forcefully than she intended, and she saw his expression turn cold. After he had done so much for her, she hadn’t meant it to sound so much like a dismissal, but she could see he had taken it as one. “I mean, my car’s parked right outside.”

      “Then I’ll see you to your car,” he said coolly.

      Thankfully, she had borrowed an unpretentious sedan from her assistant, who knew about her little adventures. Her staff might not approve, but their loyalty to her ensured that they helped her and kept her secret. “Thank you for everything,” she said as she got in. He nodded.

      He watched as she maneuvered the small car out of the tight space and drove off. About to turn away, he spotted a flash of crimson on the ground. Her scarf must have caught in the door and been pulled off when she closed it.

      He picked it up, and a faint whiff of her scent teased his nostrils—richly floral, like a balmy tropical evening, he thought. He tucked it into his jacket pocket. Nuee was a small island. It wouldn’t hurt to hang on to the scarf in case they met again.

      Chapter Two

      In response to a direct tap on her dressing room door, Adrienne said, “Come in.”

      It was her personal assistant, Cindy Cook. The leather-bound file she carried under her arm made an interesting contrast with her pale-blue ball gown. She bobbed a curtsy then stopped short. “You look wonderful, Your Highness.”

      Cindy had worked for the princess since they graduated from university together, so she wasn’t given to flattery for its own sake. Adrienne felt pleased that her new gown had made such a strong impression.

      It was a glorious emerald-green, the color being one reason Adrienne had fallen in love with it; the design was another. From the front it looked like a stylish sheath that outlined her slender curves before fanning into a miniature train at her feet.

      The back was a different matter. Cut almost to the waist, the dress was supported by a web of shoestring straps crisscrossing her bare back. With her glossy black hair swirled into a mass of curls high on her head and set off by an emerald tiara, she looked every inch the royal princess, she knew. Her alter ego, Dee, was nowhere to be seen.

      “You don’t think it’s too daring for a charity affair?” she asked Cindy.

      “The photographers will love it.”

      As an answer it was a clever evasion, Adrienne recognized. It probably was overly daring but it was too late for her to change now. In any case, she was in the mood to cause a stir tonight and wondered if it was an aftereffect of her bad experience at the show. She hadn’t told Cindy about the cowboy or the man who had come to her rescue, telling herself no lasting harm had been done. But had it? She felt so fragile that she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t even report the incident to anyone without revealing that she had gone out incognito.

      “The dress is by an Australian designer, Aloys Gada. Allie recommended him,” she told Cindy.

      Allie, or more precisely Her Highness, Princess Alison, was Lorne’s Australian wife. With her egalitarian ideals, she was like a breath of fresh air in the royal family. So was Caroline, the American woman Michel had married, Adrienne thought, smiling to herself as she recalled how Michel had been betrothed to Caroline’s twin sister in an ancient ceremony when they were children. They hadn’t expected to be held to the contract when they grew up, and it was Caroline that Michel really loved. But it had worked out well in the end, when Caroline’s twin schemed to get them back together. Like Lorne and Allie, Caroline and Michel were blissfully happy, and Adrienne couldn’t wait to become an aunt to their child in a few months’ time.

      “What are you thinking about? I’ll bet it isn’t tonight’s affair,” Cindy guessed, watching her royal employer.

      Adrienne drew herself back to the present. For a moment she had let herself fantasize about being happily married like her brothers, with a husband to admire her appearance instead of a paid assistant. Cindy was supportive, but it wasn’t the same, somehow. “I was thinking of someone I met today,” she confessed.

      The cowboy she dismissed as being of no consequence, a drunk who didn’t know any better. The American was another matter. He haunted her thoughts in a way that disturbed her for some reason.

      Cindy’s face dimpled into a smile. “A man?”

      “They do comprise half of the universe.”

      “Not this universe.”

      In spite of herself, Adrienne sighed, knowing Cindy was right. Before her assistant could ask about the man occupying her thoughts, Adrienne said, “We’d better get down to business. Who are the important names on the guest list tonight?”

      Opening her file, Cindy reeled off a list of mostly elderly local nobles. Adrienne nodded. “No surprises there.” Since tonight’s gala was in recognition of donations to the children’s charity she chaired, the princess knew most of the major benefactors already. It promised to be a dull evening, but she could endure it for the sake of the orphans, she told herself. “Any new faces?”

      “Anyone young, you mean?”

      Cindy knew her too well. “It would make a pleasant change.”

      Cindy scanned the list. “Hardly anyone our age. The youngest is a thirty-something foreigner, a Mr. Hugh Jordan, here to finalize an investment project with Prince Michel.”

      Adrienne felt a jolt and wondered at its source. “Is that why he got an invitation?”

      Cindy shook her head. “My note says he was the largest single donor to the appeal.”

      “No doubt