The Princess's Proposal

“I’m sure your staff briefed you on why I’m here. But for the record, I plan to establish a ranch north of Nuee City and breed saddle horses. It’ll be the South Pacific counterpart of a similar facility I own back in the States.”

As the governor of the islands of Isle des Anges and Nuee, her brother, Prince Michel, had to give royal assent before a foreigner could make an investment on that scale in Carramer, she knew. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to convince Michel to change his mind. “How far advanced are your plans?” she asked.

“Far enough. The land is already mine through a Carramer-based holding company. All I need now is royal approval to set up the ranch.”

Approval her brother had withheld from his own sister, she reminded herself, feeling her anger rise. “I suppose you want me to put in a good word for you with Michel,” she said, her tone unconsciously harsh.

He took a sip of the excellent French wine she had refused in favor of mineral water. “I should think you’d be more worried about what I might say to the prince than what you should say to him,” he said.

She was uncomfortably sure that she knew exactly what he was suggesting but she decided to make him spell it out. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”

He glanced around, but the guests nearest to them were engrossed in conversation and enjoying the seafood course that had been placed before them. “You know exactly what I mean…Dee.”

So he did intend to take advantage of what he had learned about her activities. Her spirits plummeted. “Kindly don’t call me that here,” she said, keeping defeat out of her voice with an effort. She hadn’t known quite how much she valued her vacations from duty until they were under threat.

“I gather no one knows about your little foray but you and me.”

“My personal staff know that I like to…keep in touch,” she said awkwardly.

“Is that what you call risking your beautiful neck for a few thrills?”

She drew herself up regally. “You presume a lot on very little knowledge, Mr. Jordan.”

His hand slid over hers in a fleeting but oddly possessive gesture. “It’s a bad habit of mine, especially with a lady whose beautiful a—anatomy I’ve had the pleasure of saving.”

“Crudely put but accurate,” she snapped. “Why do I sense that a simple thank-you isn’t enough to persuade you to drop the subject?”

“Because it won’t be,” he said so mildly that it hardly sounded like a threat at all. More a promise, she thought. Men like Hugh Jordan didn’t threaten. “Why did you refuse me when I asked for a meeting?”

“I didn’t—”

“Oh, the princes’ office gave me the official excuses, but in my experience we can generally do the things we most want to do. Therefore, you wouldn’t see me because you didn’t want to.”

It was bad enough being cut off in midsentence. Of the many people in her life, perhaps only her brothers would have dared. “Royalty has its obligations,” she said, annoyed at being second-guessed so accurately.

“Then Nuee’s prosperity should be high on the list.”

“Of course it is. It’s the smallest of Carramer’s main islands with the least resources.”

“One of them being native horses with the potential to be the world’s greatest saddlebreds.”

“Agreed,” she said.

“So why put up a fight?”

“Because I refused a meeting?”

His eyes gleamed. “A confession, princess?”

Too late, she saw the trap. “A question…and you haven’t answered it.”

He spread his long fingers wide. “Your brother tells me you’re the greatest living expert on Nuee’s native horses. With your expertise and my setup, we could conquer the riding world.”

“Why not the other way around?” she said softly.

His breath hissed between those inviting full lips. “So that’s what this is all about. You wanted that land for yourself, didn’t you?”

“It’s perfect for raising saddlebreds.”

“So why didn’t you buy it?” He swept a gaze around the banquet hall. He knew the value of the silverware alone would feed a normal family for a year. “It can’t be lack of money.”

“Try lack of a Y chromosome.”

He looked startled, as if the idea would never occur to him. “Because you’re female? Carramer isn’t that feudal.”

“It depends on one’s family.”

“Your brothers?” When she nodded, he said, “They must have good reason for keeping you out of the ranching business. Maybe they’re trying to protect you.”

“Spoken like a typical male,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

“The way you did this afternoon? What’s with you, anyway, princess? You could have been injured or killed sneaking out like that.”

She let her eyes flash regal fire at him and waited for him to quail. When he didn’t, she snapped, “I would have handled that drunken oaf. I did handle him, come to think of it.” She saw Hugh wince at the memory of her well-aimed kick. “And I never sneak.”

“So this isn’t the first time you’ve gone out alone and in disguise.” It wasn’t a question. It was certainty. He didn’t seem surprised when she didn’t deny it and went on in an angry voice, “Princess, it seems to me that you don’t know when you’re well-off.”

Confusion gripped her. She had feared he would use what he knew to gain some benefit, but instead he sounded angry on her account. This was getting much too personal. Luckily the next course was being brought in. “I’m glad we had this talk, Hugh, but I can’t monopolize you all evening.”

He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He might be a self-made man but his education, rough as it was, had included the rules of etiquette. Both of them owed some of their attention to the guests on either side of them. “There’s still my dance,” he reminded the princess before she could turn to the man on her left. He had the satisfaction of seeing her lovely eyes widen.

“Your dance?”

“As your appeal’s biggest benefactor, I get to dance with the princess at least once tonight.”

“I may retire early.”

“Even you wouldn’t buck the system that far.”

He was right, damn him. She still had a feeling he wanted something from her, something he hadn’t mentioned yet. She resolved to make it a short dance. “Very well, then, we’ll continue this later.”

He nodded graciously enough but muttered something that sounded like, “You bet we will.” With a resigned sigh, she turned her attention to the man seated on her left. He was a meteorologist, she remembered from Cindy’s briefing. She hoped discussing the weather would be easier on her blood pressure than talking with Hugh.

Even with her attention directed elsewhere she was aware of him, she noticed uncomfortably. As her companion launched into a long dissertation about the effects of the various currents on Carramer’s water temperatures, she nibbled around the edges of her food, mostly pushing it around her plate to give the appearance of eating.

When the lecture faltered, she dragged a snippet of information out of her memory. “I believe you’re also interested in the thermal mapping of tropical storms.”

The meteorologist colored with pleasure. “Your Highness is well informed.”

Efficient, too, in studying the briefing notes Cindy had prepared for her ahead of time. Adrienne inclined her head. “It’s kind of you to say so. Please, go on.”

This started a fresh wave of information that she absorbed with only half her attention. The other half kept shifting to Hugh who had his head bent close to a middle-aged blond woman on his right. Had Cindy mentioned her? She was somebody’s wife, Adrienne recalled, although right now she wasn’t acting much like one.

The woman was all but batting her eyes at him. Hugh didn’t seem to mind, lapping up the attention like mother’s milk. She wasn’t jealous. The woman was welcome to him, Adrienne told herself. He annoyed her, and not only because he knew her secret. He refused to treat her with the deference due her position, challenging and insulting her in a way no one else dared to do.

In fairness she couldn’t blame him for securing the land she had wanted for herself. That fault lay with her brother. But she did resent Hugh’s ready acceptance of it as his right, and his attitude that, as a woman and a princess, she needed protecting from the big, bad world.

All the same he intrigued her, possibly because she didn’t intimidate him. America had no royal family, she recalled, having shed their ties with their monarch centuries before. Yet Hugh’s attitude didn’t seem to come from lack of experience with royalty as much as from the depths of his own character. He would bow before anyone who had earned his deference, but not otherwise, she sensed.

The thought of dancing with him was scary and exhilarating by turns.

At the end of the elaborate meal she stood up, signaling a return to the ballroom, where her heart started to flutter in anticipation. Surely she couldn’t want to dance with Hugh Jordan? If he passed on what he knew, he could cause trouble for her with her brothers. By right she should keep as far away from him as possible. Yet her eyes sought him out with the same recklessness that sent a moth darting to a fatal flame.

“May I have this dance, Your Highness?” he asked formally as the orchestra struck up a waltz.

“Yes.” Strange how hard it was to force the single word out.

With a smoothness she hadn’t expected, he took her hand in his and led her into the center of the room. Pressing against the small of her back, his other hand felt fiery, the almost-backless dress no shield against his touch. She was relieved when they completed the obligatory circle of the room and other dancers joined them on the floor. Alone with Hugh in the spotlight, she had felt exposed and vulnerable.

“You look surprised that I can dance,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “Did you doubt that the foreign cowboy had it in him?”

His breath ruffled her hair, distracting her. “You obviously know your way around a banquet hall and a dance floor, and you’re smart enough in business to impress Michel. So why pretend you’re a hick cowboy?”

“Because it’s what I am. A street kid, a foundling, call it what you like. I wasn’t born with your advantages.”

She tensed involuntarily. “You mean belonging to the royal family?”

“I mean belonging to any family. I didn’t have a family until I was fourteen years old, but you have since birth. Maybe that’s why you don’t appreciate it.”

His harsh tone made her wince almost more than the grip on her hand which had tightened as he spoke. “What makes you think I don’t?”

“Why else would you run away from everything you are for the sake of a cheap thrill or two?”

“You could never understand,” she said bitterly.

“I’m not sure I want to, princess.”

“Must you keep calling me that?”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “Would you prefer Dee?”

“I’d prefer you let me go. We’ve done our duty now and…oh.”

She felt herself sway, held upright only by his arm around her. “Are you okay?”

“Just a little lightheaded. I’ll be fine if I can get some air.”

Still half supporting her, he led her through a set of French doors opening onto a wide terrace lit by flaming torches. By their flickering light he found a stone bench and pressed her onto it. “You didn’t eat much in there, did you?”

“A little.”

“And I’ll bet you didn’t see a doctor when you got back, either.” Her look gave him his answer. “Don’t you realize you could be in shock after what happened at the show?”

“But I’m not,” she insisted.

To her chagrin, his strong fingers pried her eyelids up one after the other and he inspected her pupils as he might have done a horse he intended buying at auction. “Your eyes are clear and your color is good. Next time eat a little more before hitting the dance floor.”

She was tempted to remind him whose fault it was she was there in the first place, but she was too distracted by the feel of his palm against the side of her face and had to fight a stupid inclination to lean into it. “I’m just tired,” she ventured.

“And willful and dangerously reckless,” he added. “At one time I’d have given my right arm for a brother who cared about me as much as yours do, and you don’t have the sense to appreciate them.”

No one had ever spoken to her so bluntly, not even her brothers. She drew herself up shakily. “Kindly remember to whom you are speaking.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said softly, touching a finger to her chin and tilting her face up a fraction more. “It’s the only thing stopping me from doing what I wanted to do this afternoon at the show.”

She could hardly speak. “What’s that?”

“Kiss you senseless.”

Her breath snagged in her throat as she felt her arousal build. It seemed inconceivable that Hugh could have such an effect on her with a few words and a touch, but he had. “You don’t even know me.”

He shrugged dismissively. “Call it chemistry, but it’s the way I feel. I spent most of the time between the show and coming here wondering how to find you again.”

“And now that you have?”

He glanced around but the others were still dancing. They had the terrace to themselves. “I find you’re so far above me that I can’t reach high enough to touch you.”

“Are you sure?” She stood up so their faces were as close to level as his extra inches in height would allow. Her stiletto-heeled shoes didn’t help nearly enough.

It was all the invitation he needed. With an indrawn breath he slid his arms around her and found her mouth. His lips were as commanding as she’d imagined, shaping hers to some hidden agenda of his own.

There was nothing hesitant in the way he gathered her against him and merged his mouth with hers. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pressing her closer, letting her feel his body heat as the rich masculine taste of him filled her mouth.

If she’d thought she was aroused before, it was nothing compared to the fire racing through her by the time he released her. She felt so shaken that it was an effort to slip her mask of royal reserve back into place. “Satisfied now?”

He seemed far less moved by the kiss than she was, and the discovery rankled for some reason.

“Let’s say it’s a start.”

“It can’t be any such thing,” she said haughtily. “This is insane. If I was feeling better…”

“You’d do exactly what we just did,” he supplied with infuriating coolness. “You wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss you.”

But in his case it meant a lot less, she saw. Wanting to hit back, she said, “It’s done now. Over.”

Slowly he shook his head. “Oh, no, princess, it isn’t over by a long shot. There’s still the matter of your reckless behavior to be discussed, and another matter I intended to bring up with you.”

“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously.

“It will keep. Right now, you should rest—and have your doctor take a look at you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, how soon can I see you again?”

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