Betrothed to the Prince

He’d never considered red and wrinkled to be beautiful, but he did like the look of the woman. She interested him. She kept looking at him in the oddest way. It wasn’t just that she was attracted to him. Women usually were. But there was something more, something mysterious in her smoky green eyes.

She was very pretty, but it was a careless sort of beauty. The way she held herself, the way she moved, he could tell she didn’t think about her looks any more than she thought about the weather. There was an innocence about her, and yet at the same time, a sophistication, as though she knew a lot, but it was mostly secondhand information, experience gained from books and not from mixing with the masses.

“Funny,” he said softly, looking at the way her bronze hair lay against the smooth pale skin of her neck and wondering if she smelled as good as she looked. “You don’t look like a pastry chef.”

“I am not a pastry chef,” she responded automatically, looking up at him. It didn’t occur to her to say she was a princess. She never said things like that. If she had her way, the whole princess thing would fade from her life and no one would ever know about it again. Of course, being a princess was the very reason she was here, a fact she had practically forgotten by now.

“I saw Milla, the kitchen maid, in the hall and she said you’d come about the pastry chef position.”

Tianna gave him a long suffering look. “Milla was wrong.”

He frowned. Thinking wasn’t as painful as it had been a few minutes earlier, but it still wasn’t back with its usual zing. “What are you, then?”

“I’m a photographer.”

He groaned, dropping back down into the chair and stretching. “Not another photojournalist sniffing around for a story on the royals.”

“I’m not a photojournalist,” she assured him quickly. “I told you, I’m a photographer. I mainly concentrate on architectural photography. And I have no interest in photographing royals.”

“Good. Then we won’t have to kick you out on your ear.”

She bristled. “I’d like to see you try,” she said sharply, one hand on her hip.

“Oh. That’s right. I forgot you were the dangerous one.” His blue eyes glinted at her in a way that sent a new awareness skittering along her nerve endings. “Quite the little wild cat, aren’t you?” he said in a tone that made her sound downright erotic.

Her breath caught in her throat and color flooded her cheeks, but she lifted her chin and tried to ignore it. “I’m nothing of the sort. But I do know how to defend myself.”

“I’ll say you do. I’ve got the sore hand to prove it.” He shook the hand, deemed it basically unscathed, but looked up at her accusingly anyway. “That was quite a nice demonstration of the old thumb trick you put on this morning. What other escape moves do you have up your sleeve?”

She looked fully at him and for just a moment, their gazes seemed to connect, fuse, and sizzle.

“I…I think I’d better keep that to myself,” she said, feeling a bit muddled and looking toward the window, absently noting that the rain was coming down pretty steadily now. “The element of surprise is half the battle.”

“Here,” he said, coming to his feet. “I’ll show you a good one.”

“No thanks.” She turned away, shaking her head, but he moved too quickly for her.

“If someone grabs you, like this,” he said, coming up behind her and sliding his arms in, locking them just beneath her breasts, pulling her close in against him. “What would you do?”

She gasped. His face was next to hers, his breath tantalizing her cheek, his rough day’s growth of beard rasping against her skin. It had all happened so fast, she had to wait a beat or two to make sure she understood just exactly what was going on here.

“You snap back your right elbow and at the same time, you make a turn to the left,” he was advising, his voice silky, so very near her ear.

She could hardly breathe. He was holding her to his long, strong body and she thought she could feel every one of his muscles against her back. Her natural inclination was to do as he said and turn toward the left, but one second of clear thinking and she realized what that meant. She might be in his arms now, but if she followed his instructions she would be in his embrace and in perfect position to be kissed.

A lovely thought—if only she could believe he wasn’t doing this on purpose just to mock her. Which, of course, he was! She steeled herself. She wasn’t going to follow through and fall into his trap. Instead, she made another move her personal defense trainer had taught her and quickly raised her foot, coming down hard on top of his.

He yelled. She pulled out of his grip, whirling to glare at him hotly. Half-laughing, he was hobbling in pain.

“My God, woman, you’re lethal. I was just trying to show you…”

She raised her hands as though to defend herself. “Stay back!” she ordered him.

And at the same time, the cook came bustling in through the outer doorway, her hair damp, her look very cross. She took in the scene at a glance, nodded at Tianna, and glared daggers at the man standing beside her.

“Young mister, you know the rules,” she said sternly, shaking a finger at him. “There’s to be no trifling with the help.” She all but stamped her foot and pointed to show him the way out of her kitchen.

“Trifling?” He glanced at Tianna and shook his head, laughing softly. “Don’t worry. This lady is definitely a no-trifling zone.”

His gaze met hers and held for a moment, then he turned his full charm on the cook.

“That you, of all people, should accuse me of trifling.” He had the confident smile of a man who had used charisma as his currency out of many a sticky situation in his life and was pretty sure it would work for him again, any time he chose to use it. “I was doing no such thing. I was merely keeping a visitor company while waiting for you to return and do your duty by her.”

The cook was still pointing. “If you want to practice your profligate ways, you’ll do so somewhere else,” she insisted. “I’ve got work to do here.”

The handsome charmer reacted with weary resignation.

“Aye aye, Cook.” He gave her a somewhat disjointed salute, then leaned toward her teasingly. “My mentor, my conscience, my guide. As ever, words of wisdom fall from your lips like petals from the rose….”

The cook colored and had a hard time not showing pleasure at his affectionate mockery. “Get on with you.” She swatted at him with a dish towel, but she was beaming in a way that gave full evidence to how much she cared for him. “And keep your crazy poetry to yourself.”

“Hey, watch that talk,” he said as he prepared to depart. “You know I have to maintain my reputation as a soldier. Don’t start spreading that poetry rumor.”

He stopped to drop a quick kiss on the cook’s cheek, then dodged another swipe with the dish towel as he made his way toward the exit. Tianna noted with a twinge of guilty satisfaction that he was limping slightly. He paused in the doorway, looking back.

“Goodbye, lovely lady,” he said to Tianna just before disappearing out the door. “I hope we meet again.” A fleeting smile, and then he was gone.

Tianna thought she’d probably seen the last of him and was disappointed in herself for caring. She had to admit, it would be tempting to let herself get a healthy crush on a man like that, to start thinking about the scent of roses and kisses in the moonlight. The only love affair she’d let herself attempt had ended badly and had seemed hardly worth the effort in the end. She had the feeling things might have been different with a man like this.

“He’s got a heart of gold, that one,” the cook confided once he was out of the room. “But he does tease so.”

Tianna smiled, her pulse still reacting to the man’s presence in the room. “Is he your son?”

The cook looked shocked. “My son? Heaven’s no. My dear, don’t you know who that is? Why, it’s Prince Garth, that’s who.”

Chapter Two

Tianna felt the room fade and pulse, and she barely avoided a gasp. “Prince Garth!” She put her hand over her heart. “But…but the little maid told me the prince had gone to Texas.”

“Oh, aye. She thought you meant Crown Prince Marco, no doubt about it. He was here last week.” She began to bustle about the kitchen. “No one thinks of Garth as ‘the prince.’ He’s always been the younger brother, you know. The rascal. The charming one.” She grinned affectionately.

Tianna sat, still dumbfounded, and growing more and more astonished as she thought over this latest wrinkle. So the man they expected her to marry really was a playboy and a carouser. Delightfully irresistible—and the last man in the world a woman would want to be married to. Hah! Just wait until she explained all this to her father. It looked like she would be able to put together a nice tight case for annulling this betrothal. And wasn’t that what she’d come for?

Actually, it was getting hard to remember what she’d come for. Too much was getting in the way.

The cook had turned back and was frowning down at her. “Well, now about your business. Come about the pastry chef job, have you? We weren’t expecting you quite this soon, but that’s all right. We’ll make do.”

Tianna turned to tell her the truth, but she was rattling on.

“Now, let’s see a bit of your talent. I’ve got some dough mixed for pies. Why don’t you roll it out and we’ll see what you can do with it. Try something creative.”

“I’m really not here for the pastry chef job.”

“No?”

“No. I’m…”

It was going to be hard to explain what she was here for at this point—and why she hadn’t talked to Garth when she had a chance. Her day was careening wildly out of control. It was probably time she made herself known to everyone and tried to get some order back into things. “Actually, you see, I’m Princess Katianna of…”

Unfortunately, her words were drowned out by the sudden wail of the infant. The cook whirled and stared at the basket on the table.

“A baby!” Cook’s gaze fell on the basket. “Ah yes, Milla said you’d brought your baby. We really don’t have facilities for babies here. You should have asked first, you know.”

Tianna considered tearing her hair out, but thought better of it. “She’s not my baby,” she said evenly. “I found her in the yard.”

Cook rolled her eyes. “What nonsense,” she said, and bent over the little thing, cooing to it.

Tianna bit her lip and silently counted to ten, then drew herself up and gazed coolly at the woman. “I assure you, I’m telling the truth.”

Cook glanced up and seemed to recognize her growing irritation. “Well, that’s as may be. But then where did this baby come from?”

Good question. If only someone would answer it! Stifling the urge to scream, Tianna gave her a quick explanation of how the estate had been left unguarded and open to the world when she’d arrived. The cook finally seemed to accept that, though reluctantly.

“Oh yes, we’re so shorthanded right now, things are falling to wrack and ruin,” she said, shaking her head. “You know, they usually leave their babies at the guard gate. We never even see them up here. And you say you found her right out in the garden?”

Tianna frowned. “Are you telling me strange babies show up here all the time?” she asked.

Cook shrugged. “Well, not all the time. But it’s been known to happen. Single girls hoping we’ll take the tykes in and raise them as royals. Surely you know about the legend of Baby Rose. It’s an old Nabotavian story.”

She didn’t, but she wasn’t in the mood for a story right now. “You think this one was left by a desperate young girl?” she asked, looking down at the dewy little face and wishing she didn’t feel such a strong emotional pull every time she did so. The baby was starting to fuss again and she pulled it up into her arms without thinking twice, patting her little back and whispering sweet nothings against her silky head.

“No doubt about it.” The cook turned and spoke to the kitchen maid. “Milla, call the orphanage. Tell them we’ll be sending another baby over.”

Tianna looked up, frowning. She hated to think of letting this little angel go. “Don’t you think we should call the police? And perhaps, Children’s Services?”

“Children’s Services? Oh my, no. We’ll call the Nabotavian Orphanage, that’s what we’ll do. They’ll take her. We Nabotavians like to take care of our own.” She frowned at Tianna. “Aren’t you a daughter of the Rose nation, my dear?”

“Yes, of course I am.”

“Been in this country a little too long, though, haven’t you? Started to think like an American. Just like my young prince. It’s a good thing we’ll all be going back soon.” She shook her head. “We’ve almost lost our heritage, I do declare.”

“So you’re preparing for the return?”

“We’re at sixes and sevens, my dear. All this moving back to Nabotavia has the entire staff in an up-roar.” She looked overwhelmed by it all. “The housekeeper left a week ago to manage the preparations at Red Rose Palace and she took some of our best workers with her. She left Mr. Harva, the butler, in charge, and he immediately ran off with the pastry chef. Now I’m left to try to keep things from falling apart here, and heaven knows I have my hands full.”

The little maid returned at that moment, walking into the kitchen with a bouncy step. “The orphanage can’t take her. They’ve got chicken pox. They can’t take anyone new for at least four days.”

“Oh my heavens! What’s next?” The cook turned to Tianna, shaking her head.

Tianna looked from the cook to the baby and back again. Hesitating, she recognized that she was at a crossroads. She could hand the baby back and identify herself, and everything would change. She would be the princess and escorted to the other side of the house where she would be given a beautiful bedroom for the night and probably not see this baby again.

Or she could let them think she was a mere job seeker and stick around for a while. She looked down into the baby’s face. The lower lip was trembling and the huge blue eyes were clouded. A wave of protective affection seized her. The child felt so soft and snuggly and she smelled like something fresh and new—which was exactly what she was. But she was also so helpless. Tianna hadn’t been quite this young, but she had known what it was to be helpless and lost. She didn’t wish that on anyone, especially not this innocent. Someone had to make sure nothing bad happened to her. And since she’d had plenty of experience helping with her sister’s baby, she supposed she was the one to do it.

“I…well, I suppose I could help….”

“And what is your name, child?”

Her chin lifted. “Tianna Rose.” It was the name she went by in daily life, and would do for the moment. No one would connect it to the Katianna Roseanova-Krimorova who was betrothed to the prince.

“Ah, a Rose, are you?” The cook nodded knowingly. “Related to the royal family by any chance?”

Tianna met her gaze levelly but she wasn’t prepared to outright lie. “Perhaps.”

“Ah, yes. Everyone likes to claim a little relationship here and there.” The cook smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure you have the usual references. Well, we can put you to work, I think. Somebody is going to have to take care of this baby, and I don’t dare let Milla do it. She’d probably leave it out in the yard again.” She smiled hopefully. “What do you know about the nanny business, Tianna Rose?”

For Prince Garth, driving his Porsche was a major part of the joy of life. Sleek and silver, his car purred like a giant cat and was so responsive to his handling, it reminded him of a sensual woman. Maybe that was why, as he drove up the winding driveway, returning from an afternoon of boring meetings in town with lawyers and business managers, his thoughts went to the lovely woman he’d met that morning in the gazebo.

He could still feel the way her curves had fit against his body and the memory stirred his reactions in a way that made him laugh at himself. She was certainly a tempting bit of luscious femininity—which should put him on guard, as he’d recently sworn off women altogether.

Women! They never played fair. Even those who agreed to ground rules from the beginning—vowing to keep things light and playful, swearing there would be no hearts involved, ended up wanting commitments and long-range promises in the end. And if you rebuffed their come-on advances, they usually found a way to make you pay.

He was still reeling from his last scandal involving a woman he hadn’t even kissed. She’d told the tabloids a wild tale of sex in public places and orgies on yachts and all because he’d stopped taking her phone calls. Sometimes you couldn’t win for losing.

On the other hand, he hated to think of how many women he’d hurt over the years. But their hearts seemed to break so easily. He’d finally come to the conclusion that it was better just to stay completely out of the game. After all, he was betrothed. He didn’t need to search for a mate, so why not give up women for the time being?

Still, the lovely yet dangerous visitor intrigued him. She’d said she was a photographer, yet all evidence suggested she was here to apply for the pastry chef position. Hopefully, she was going to be preparing tempting confections for him from now on. That thought made him smile again. Leaving his car out front for Homer, the chauffeur, to deal with, he went straight into the kitchen and greeted Cook with a peck on the cheek.

“There you are,” she said in a harried fashion. “Will you be having your dinner here tonight, then?”

“Yes, I think I will.” He glanced around the kitchen but didn’t catch sight of the woman he was searching for.

“Good.” Cook gave him a baleful look. “You’ve been out gallivanting too much lately. It’ll do you good to stay at home for a change. Any guests?”

“No.” He peered around the kitchen, noting Milla shelling peas and a thin stranger cleaning off a counter. “What happened to the new pastry chef?”

Cook nodded in the direction of the slender woman. “There she is. She’s hard at work.”

Garth did a double take and frowned. “No, I mean the other one.” He turned to the older woman in alarm. “You didn’t hire her?”

“Oh, that one.” She waved a hand in the air. “Tianna, you mean. Yes, she’s still here. She agreed to be nanny to that baby that was found in the yard, at least until the orphanage can take her—or someone shows up to claim her. She’s probably up in the nursery right now…”

But Garth was already on his way, whistling as he went. Tianna. So that was her name. A lovely and typically Nabotavian name, a lovely and typically Nabotavian girl. Against all his better judgements, he was looking forward to seeing her again. Although he had a rather inflated reputation as a playboy, he had never actually dallied with the help. It wasn’t his style. But then, the help had never been quite so beautiful before. There was always the exception that proved the rule.

He was feeling rather debonair as he knocked a quick rhythm on the nursery room door.

“Come in,” her voice called.

He straightened his tie and turned the knob, a provocative smile at the ready. But when he opened the door, instead of the welcoming look of surprise he expected, he found himself gazing into a face that, though still beautiful, was set in a look that said “trouble.”

“There you are!” she exclaimed.

He stopped in his tracks, but at least she didn’t have her dukes up this time. “What did I do?” he asked, completely at sea.

She gave him a look that said, “If you don’t know…” and rose from the rocking chair with the baby in her arms.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home,” she said distractedly. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised at her tone but happy to see she was every bit as lovely as he remembered. Her soft burnished hair set off a face that was finely boned, the lips full, the green eyes luminous and framed in thick dark lashes. He liked the look of her and he was already speculating what her touch would be like.

“I had some meetings to attend to. And very tedious they were, too. Why? Did I miss something?”

Did he miss something!

Turning, she carefully laid the sleeping baby down in its antique crib, giving herself a moment to compose her emotions. Trailing a finger across the downy head, she felt a surge of affection for this helpless creature that was beginning to seem automatic. She looked so beautiful tucked under her lacy covers. It was official now. Tianna was her defender and protector. She would do whatever she had to do to make sure this child was safe and well taken care of.

Luckily, the nursery was fully stocked with baby supplies, as it had only been a short time since Prince Marco’s two children had passed through on their way to their larger bedrooms. Milla had been sent into town to get formula and baby food, but disposable diapers and baby blankets filled the cupboards—everything a well-connected baby would need. And this sweet baby might just be a little more well-connected than everyone had first believed.

Turning, she looked at Prince Garth. She’d been sitting here for the past few hours working herself up into a lather over this situation and it wasn’t going to help if she started ranting at him. At any rate, now that they were face-to-face, she knew he wasn’t the monster she’d been painting in her mind. Surely he would do the right thing.

“Have you done anything yet to find the mother of this baby?” she asked carefully.

He seemed puzzled by her question but he answered readily enough. “Don’t worry about that. The authorities will handle it. The orphanage finds the mothers very quickly. The mothers and babies are usually reunited within days.” He shook his head. “They do this because of the Rose Baby Legend, you know.”

She paused, biting her lip. This legend had been mentioned twice. It had to be peculiar to East Nabotavia, because she didn’t remember ever hearing of it before. She supposed she ought to get the full back ground before she made her case.

“Why don’t you sit down?” she suggested, gesturing toward a chair set facing the rocker. “I’d like to hear about this Rose Baby Legend.”

He looked at her and almost laughed. She was talking to him as though…hell, as though she were a princess. Actually, he was used to people treating him with casual equality. After all, he’d spent quite a few years in the U.S. Army after graduating from West Point, the last few as a lieutenant colonel. But this was different. He was in his own home castle and Tianna was an employee. By now she surely knew he was a prince. It was very strange that she didn’t seem to feel a need to treat him like—well, at least like the boss. A neutral observer might have come to the opposite conclusion and figured he must work for her.

“You’re Nabotavian, aren’t you?” he asked as he sank easily into the chair. “Surely you’ve heard the story.”

“I may have heard it once, but if I did, it didn’t stick with me.” She sat down in the rocker and leaned forward. “Why don’t you fill me in?”

“The Rose Baby Legend. Okay.” He frowned, calling up the old story from the past. “It started about a hundred years ago in Nabotavia. It was a time of great instability in the kingdom—as usual. The queen—my great-grandmother—had given birth to three boys and then found she was unable to have any more children. She desperately wanted a girl. In fact, supposedly she’d fallen into deep depression because, as she said, the boys would all be taken from her by war and she deeply longed for a daughter who would stay beside her always. Everyone in the country knew about her sorrow. Then one day, while walking in the rose garden, she found a baby girl, wrapped in a rose-colored blanket. She adopted her, raised her as her own, even to the point of calling her a princess. She was my great aunt, Princess Elna. True to the queen’s desires, she never married, staying with her adoptive mother to the end.”

“Wow.”

“Yes. You don’t see that kind of gratitude much these days, do you?” He gave her a crooked grin. “I don’t really remember her, but I’ve always heard a lot about her. She affected the lives of all she came in contact with. She was the first one to start a nursing charity for the poor. She founded the original Nabotavian orphanage. The whole country loved her. She was considered a sort of royal saint.”