The Prince and The Marriage Pact

Brett had known about her mother’s liaison with the prince’s equerry. Would things have been different if he had married her mother? Since he hadn’t, and since Annegret had wanted Brett to love her for herself rather than for her family background, she had accepted the situation with as much poise as possible. She had waited until she was alone to give way to tears over the injustice of being judged on a factor so far out of her control.

In future she would think twice about becoming involved with a man—especially one so far out of her own social league. And if anyone had a problem with her background, she’d make sure to find out before her heart became involved.

Still, she hadn’t expected to find herself enjoying a private dinner with Brett’s counterpart here. “Have you considered that I might use a friendship against you, Your Highness?” she asked the prince.

He acknowledged her use of his title with a slight nod. “In my position, that’s always a possibility.”

“Because you’d do the same thing yourself?” She didn’t really believe it, but she wanted to see his reaction. For her TV show, of course.

He put his dessert fork down. “I don’t know who you’re mixing me up with, Annegret, but that’s not the way I operate.”

“Yet you admit to being attracted to me, knowing that the terms of the Champagne Pact mean nothing can come of it.”

“It doesn’t stop me from having friends, or feelings.”

“Only from doing anything about them unless the woman has blue blood.” Abandoning any pretense to herself that the show was the reason she wanted Maxim to know where she stood, she decided to put all her cards on the table. See how fast Maxim lost his desire for her friendship then. “You may as well know that my biological father was merely a courtier to the prince of Ehrenberg.” She stretched her arm out on the pristine tablecloth, the delicate veins appearing close to the surface in the glow of candlelight. “See? Not a trace of blue blood.”

Maxim slid his index finger over her upturned wrist, resting it a moment on her fluttering pulse. He suspected his own was just as fast. He told himself it was due to her confession that she hadn’t a trace of royal blood. Not that he had any intention of taking his interest in her further than friendship, he thought, before his hormones could kick in full strength. He suspected there was something else she wasn’t telling him.

“It’s a myth that royal blood is blue,” he said, far more calmly than he felt.

“So I’m told,” she stated flatly, withdrawing her arm. “It hardly matters, since my father never acknowledged my existence. He was equerry to Prince Frederick, Ehrenberg’s ambassador to Australia. My mother met my father when she worked at the embassy as a member of the diplomatic service. Soon after, she learned that she was pregnant, the prince was recalled to his country and my father went with him. She never heard from him again.”

Annegret’s matter-of-fact tone couldn’t quite conceal the hurt he heard in her voice. She might like to be seen as tough, but she wasn’t, Maxim would bet on it. The hurt sounded raw enough to be on her own account, as well as her mother’s. Had some man left Annegret herself in the lurch, awakening echoes of her mother’s bitter experience?

It hardly mattered to him, Maxim assured himself. He was attracted to her, but it didn’t mean he had to do anything about it beyond spending this evening in her company. For her sake and his own, he couldn’t afford to. The evening was probably a mistake, too, although he couldn’t make himself believe it.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

Her finger traced patterns on the linen tablecloth. “If we’re going to work together, you’re entitled to know something of my background.”

She expected him to reject her because of what had happened between her mother and father, he saw with sudden insight.

“You’d be surprised how much I already know,” he admitted, earning a raised eyebrow and a sudden wariness in her gaze. “You must have expected my security people to check out everyone on today’s guest list?”

He could almost hear her thoughts whirring, hear her thinking, You’re attracted to me, knowing who and what I am? She obviously didn’t know that royal history, even Carramer’s, was littered with heirs with far less claim to blue blood than her own.

“Ehrenberg has been closed to outsiders for almost three decades. Perhaps leaving your mother wasn’t your father’s choice,” he suggested.

She nodded. “I considered that, but the revolution didn’t take place until a month after I was born—plenty of time for him to at least get in touch. Give my mother his regrets. He didn’t bother.”

Maxim couldn’t explain that himself, unless her father was as amoral as Annegret believed. The prince didn’t care to be compared with such a man. “It doesn’t mean everyone connected with royalty is the same.”

She pushed her half-finished dessert aside and reached for some ice water. “The headlines, and my own research for the program, suggest differently.”

“Affairs make better headlines than happy marriages.”

Unable to refute that, she stared into the glass. “True. My viewers enjoy scandal as much as anyone.”

“Are you hoping to unearth some scandal about the royal house of Carramer?”

Her head lifted and her gaze blazed a challenge at him. “I don’t go looking for it, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I also report good news when I find it.” Her tone suggested she rarely did.

“Then perhaps I can help you find some.”

“You’ve already promised me an interview.” He hadn’t in so many words, but Annegret couldn’t see any benefit in pointing that out. If he really wanted her to report objectively on his family, it was in his own best interests to cooperate.

He took a sip of wine. “I’m thinking of more than an interview. You’re familiar with the work of the Merrisand Trust?”

“It’s the charity you administer that raises funds to help underprivileged children and their families,” she said, fighting a sense of disappointment. If he was going to suggest she do a puff piece on his charity, she wasn’t interested. Not because she didn’t want to report good news, but because the trust had already been the subject of several documentaries. Her series was successful because she delved beneath the surface of her subjects.

“Next week, I’m launching a new ship that will provide cruises for the trust’s clients,” he said.

“Good for you.”

Although she spoke under her breath, he frowned as if he’d heard. “The vessel was built and placed at the disposal of the trust by the Soral Shipping Line.”

This time her flicker of interest was genuine. “Owned by the family who stand to inherit your crown under the terms of the Champagne Pact?”

The prince nodded. “Chad Soral is the head of the shipping line and the current claimant, if it should come to that. He’ll be presenting the vessel to the trust.”

Suspicion slid up her spine. “Why would you allow me to meet your rival?”

“Balance,” he reminded her imperturbably, and picked up his dessert fork.

Taking her cue from him, she did the same. The cumulative effect of the acidic dessert was dizzying to her senses. Nothing to do with the way Maxim was regarding her as his lips closed around a mouthful of his own dessert.

Her heart kicked in irritating contradiction. She wished he didn’t keep this room so warm, although she had only begun to notice the fact in the last few seconds. It had to be because she was excited at the prospect of securing interviews with the prince and his rival, she assured herself.

“Do you think Chad will agree to appear on my show?” she asked.

Watching her across the table, Maxim thought if she fluttered those impossibly long lashes at Chad the way she was doing now, he would probably agree to anything she asked of him. Max himself was tempted, and he wasn’t half the ladies’ man that Chad was. Of course, he wasn’t hampered by the limitations that ruled Max. Chad could marry anyone he wished without consequences.

Max knew he had resented this aspect of his rival’s life since they were at university together. In those days Max had fallen heavily for one woman in particular, the daughter of one of the lecturers, but Max had forced himself to grit his teeth and keep silent while Chad charmed her into dating him.

Seeing the way Max had looked at her, Chad had magnanimously offered to get out of their way. He could afford to, Max remembered thinking. If anything came of the relationship, the crown would become Chad’s. The man couldn’t lose. The prince had salvaged his self-respect by pretending to have no interest in the young woman. Curiously enough, Chad had also lost interest in her soon afterward.

Max wondered if Chad knew how tempted he had been to abdicate his responsibilities then and there and follow his heart. He hadn’t, of course. No matter what the personal cost, Maxim refused to go down in history as the last de Marigny to wear the crown of Taures.

Was history about to repeat itself now? Why had he tempted fate by suggesting that Annegret meet Chad? Getting in first before he could be hurt a second time? That made her far more important to Maxim than he wanted her to be.

“You’ll have to ask Chad about an interview,” the prince said, adding caustically, “He isn’t known for his shyness.”

She nodded in acknowledgment. “So I’ve heard.” Because she knew there had to be more, she said, “What do you get out of taking me along? Besides balanced reporting, of course.”

“Isn’t your company sufficient reason?”

Instant denial caught her by surprise. Not because she didn’t know her own worth, but because she suspected he didn’t. Not yet. In her experience, men like him operated according to their own agenda. Seduction was no more than a side dish accompanying the main banquet, and though her toes curled inside her shoes at the thought, she made herself ask what else he wanted from her.

As she voiced the question, the prince’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Very well, I hope to employ your skills as a filmmaker to benefit the Merrisand Trust.”

She refused to acknowledge the stabbing sensation as disappointment. It was no more than she had suspected. “I don’t do corporate work,” she stated.

“Not even in exchange for an exclusive story on the Champagne Pact?”

The feeling of being cheated deepened. “Blackmail, Your Highness?”

“Call it a quid pro quo, an even exchange of favors.”

“The trust has been documented on film several times already.”

“Not for many years, and not by you.”

She crumpled her linen napkin on the table. “How do you know I’d do a good job?”

“I’ve studied your work. I find it original and insightful.”

The thought of him demanding a private screening of her shows provoked a warm glow she resisted. “Even though I lack balance?”

“You’ve admitted you’re biased on the subject of royalty. You may change your opinion once you’ve seen something of royal life from the inside.”

Her opinion wouldn’t change, as he would soon find out. The certainty didn’t stop her from asking, “What do you have in mind?”

The question betrayed more interest than she intended, and she saw his eyes take on a speculative gleam. “Considering my proposition, Annegret?”

“I don’t have much choice, if I want a story on the Champagne Pact.”

“We always have choices,” he reminded her smoothly. “In spite of how it might sound, this isn’t blackmail. Under duress, you’re unlikely to give me the result I want.”

“Which is?”

His brow furrowed with thought. “There are some who feel that charitable trusts such as Merrisand are an anachronism in the modern world.”

Like royalty, she heard, although he didn’t say it. Unwillingly, she acknowledged a frisson of excitement creeping through her. “You want to show that they still have a place,” she suggested.

He nodded. “Precisely. I want you to make a documentary piece tracing the trust’s evolution from dispenser of royal favors to a modern-day force making the world a better place.”

He really believed that was what he was doing, she thought, noting the fervor in his words and expression. He was a man of passion, as she’d suspected. That it was directed toward helping the less fortunate was more disturbing.

Because it argues with your preconceptions about him? she asked herself. She shook off the question, channeling her mind into more practical areas. “I don’t have time to get a crew together before the launch.”

“Nor do I expect it. Consider the cruise as a chance to develop your ideas about where the project might go. We’ll discuss your plans and formalize arrangements afterward.”

He was talking about this as a done deal, she noticed, well aware that she was already thinking along similar lines. She was torn between annoyance at the smooth way he had manipulated her into doing his bidding, and the thrill of meeting his challenge.

How had he managed it? He is the prince, she recalled the nurse at the infirmary saying, echoed later by one of his footmen. Was it really so simple? Were certain people gifted with skills and abilities beyond the ordinary, or was she in danger of becoming as much a victim of the royal mystique as her mother had been?

The thought made her bristle. “How long is this cruise supposed to last?” she asked, more roughly than she’d intended.

He didn’t seem to notice as he finished his dessert and folded his napkin. “I’ll be aboard for two nights. The inaugural cruise lasts for a week, so you can stay on as long as you wish.”

She resisted the urge to gulp. Two nights aboard a cruise vessel with the prince was more than she had bargained for. She had already taken a dinner cruise on Merrisand’s Summer Harbor and knew how seductive the moonlight and the waves could be. Add Maxim to the mix…

Stop it, she ordered herself. His proposal ensured that she would have plenty to keep her occupied while she was on board. In any case the prince would be occupied with his duties and the official guests such an occasion invariably involved. She would be lucky to see him for more than a few minutes each day. And that wouldn’t bother her.

For some time now, rumors had floated around the network that her show might be replaced in the schedule next season. The cruise would provide her with the perfect opportunity to line up a blockbuster opening show to ensure that the series was renewed. In addition, Maxim had just handed her a plum assignment that most producers would give their eyeteeth to be offered. Nothing else mattered to her.

She blotted her mouth with the snowy napkin, determined to ignore the riot of sensations pouring through her. This was business. Never mind that she would be cruising the blue waters around Merrisand with the most fascinating man she had met in a long time. Hadn’t she already learned the folly of such thinking?

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