“Unlike law enforcement, soldiers only carry weapons when there is a need to do so.”
“What kind of weapons do you use?”
“When I guard the Prince, I carry a nine millimeter Glock. We are also trained to defend and fight against a knife attack.”
“What about a sword?” a girl chirped. “Prince Charming has a sword.”
His glance slid to the four-foot-long case Amanda held against her front as if hugging a part of him to her.
“Swords are not used in modern warfare, however, Pasadonia is a traditional country. Swords are a formal part of our dress uniforms, and all members of the militia are required to be proficient swordsmen.”
“Ohh,” the girl sighed.
“Cool!” a boy crowed.
“Swords are sissy.” A husky kid scoffed.
Giving the irritating child a hard-eyed smile, Xavier said, “As I stated, they are not used in today’s military.”
Amanda stepped forward. “Show him the sword.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t need to prove myself to a child.”
“Of course not,” she agreed readily. “Show him anyway. You can step behind the bug counter. The kids will be able to see but won’t be able to reach it.” She held out the case.
Xavier surveyed the situation. He spoke the truth when he told Amanda he had no need to prove himself to a child, but he did have a drive to please her. Still, the safety of all must be considered. He moved behind the glass cabinet she’d indicated to see if it would suit. It was high enough most of the children had to stand back to see.
Excellent. The kids, with the exception of his heckler, had been well behaved and several adults were stepping closer, showing interest, so it should be fine. He set the leather carrying case on top of the cabinet and unzipped it.
Amanda faced the children. “Commandant DeLuc has brought a sword to show you. This is a very old weapon and it is part of the collection on display at the Art History museum. Stay on this side of the counter. And no touching.”
He removed his jacket, handing it to Amanda before pulling out a pair of leather gloves and donning them to handle the weapon. With sure, precise moves, he lifted the scabbard free of the case.
Holding the scabbard straight out in front of him, he grasped the ornate hilt and pulled the sword free. Metal slid over metal with a sweet swish as the engraved sword was revealed.
A hum of approval sounded from the group. He carefully lifted the weapon and held it up for them to see.
“Awesome.”
“Look at the pretty jewels.”
“Shiny.”
“It looks really sharp.”
“Is it heavy?”
Finally a question.
“A little,” Xavier replied. “Remember this is a weapon and it can be dangerous if mishandled. This particular sword was made for Prince Jean Claude III. Our current Prince is Jean Claude VI.”
Setting the scabbard on the glass, he hefted the sword, enjoying the weight, the feel of it in his hand. A champion fencer, the tour had cut into his practice regimen. Handling the sword reminded him how much he missed it, how much he missed the workouts with his father.
He swallowed hard and concentrated on describing the sword instead of the sudden longing for home, for family. The distraction worked, and the moment of weakness passed. Catching Amanda’s gaze eased the last of the loneliness.
He addressed the need for safety and demonstrated a few moves, drawing a larger crowd.
It occurred to him the sooner he wrapped this up, the sooner he would have Amanda to himself. A surreptitious glance at his watch confirmed he had met his agreed-upon thirty minutes. He wrapped up with the story of how Prince Jean Claude III used this sword when he led his army of two hundred men against an invasion of Pasadonia in 1848.
“Supporters of Prince Carlos of Spain sought to gain land revenue for his bid to claim the crown by overtaking our valuable port. Jean Claude and his men defeated the larger army. Spain was denied access to the port and our goods for a year at which point Queen Isabel II reinforced her alliance by sending Prince Jean Claude a cache of a hundred guns. But it was a sword that won the assault.”
“How big was the other army?” the blond kid asked.
“The odds were nearly two to one.”
“And that’s all we have time for today.” Amanda stepped up and took control. “Please help me in thanking Commandant LeDuc for his wonderful presentation.”
A round of applause came from the gathering and several people surged forward with a barrage of questions. Xavier pasted on a smile and answered easily. Though it appeared some would like a closer look at the sword, he calmly and firmly packed it away.
He kept an eye on Amanda who was busy handing children off to their parents and restoring the presentation area to order. When she headed his way, he bowed formally to the last two lingering gentlemen and made his leave of them.
A huge smile on her face, Amanda wrapped him in a hug. “That was fabulous. Thank you so much.”
“A response like that almost makes putting up with that little puck worth it.”
She grinned and led him toward the exit. “I think you mean little punk.”
“This too.” He shrugged, nonchalant. “For you it was my pleasure. It felt good to hold a sword again.”
“You were very impressive.”
“It is a skill all soldiers in Pasadonia must perfect. There are many tournaments. I enjoy competing.”
“I bet you win, too.”
“I do, yes.” He helped her into her coat and whispered in her ear, “I would like to show you what I can do with my sword.”
CHAPTER FIVE
AMANDA LAUGHED AND uncharacteristically turned into his arms, looping hers around his neck. Her mother’s regret at not grabbing the chance she had to spend time with the man who’d so quickly caught her interest sparked Amanda to act spontaneously.
She braved a kiss, and sighed into his ready response. Then, because they were still too close to the museum, she grabbed his free hand and began walking again.
The fact her mother ended up pregnant and alone was something she chose not to dwell on.
“You’re flirting, and I love it.” The glance she shot him held a twinge of shyness in spite of her best efforts to appear confident. “But I know a distraction when I hear it. Tell me more about your fencing. And your family. They must be very proud of you.”
“Can a parent be too proud?” he asked ruefully. “That would be my mother. She is my biggest fan. My father encourages her, making sure she knows of all my public events.”
Amanda cringed for him. “Does she embarrass you?”
“Do I wish she were less verbal, yes. Am I embarrassed, no.” He stopped next to his luxury rental car, held the door open for her. “My family is very demonstrative. My sister and I learned early in life that support and love would be lavished on us. If we protested, it became even more exaggerated. Best not to fight it.”
“How lovely,” she whispered as he rounded the hood of the car. To know such approval, such love. He’d had to fight it off while she pulled apart every sentence her grandparents uttered trying to find one word of praise or affection.
She had a moment of disquiet as she contemplated how different they were. Not only did they come from different worlds, their life experiences were so dissimilar how could they hope to find common ground?
And then he slid into his seat and reached for her hand. He brought her fingers to his mouth for a warm kiss as admiration lit his light brown eyes.
“Where would you like to go for dinner?” he asked, his breath warm against her palm.
When he looked at her like that, when he touched her, all qualms disappeared. Just being together was enough.
; “Amanda?” he prompted.
“Oh.” What had he asked? Oh yeah, dinner. “Let’s go to the wharf and play tourist. In fact, as a reward for coming to help me at the museum today, I want you to pick anywhere or anything you want to do in San Francisco and I will be your personal tour guide, my treat.”
“This is not necessary. I am proud to represent my country to the youth of America.” He started the engine, flashed her a wry glance before pulling into traffic. “Even the little puck.”
“Punk,” she corrected. Again.
“This too.”
“You’re funny. Why do you keep calling him a puck?”
“A puck is a small, round object you would like to knock around, yes?”
“Xavier!” she exclaimed, her tone chiding. “So your mother comes to your fencing tournaments. What about your father?”
“My father also attends the tournaments, but as a competitor. He is the best, and he taught me. I can beat him, but he makes me sweat. He holds many records and he will receive a prestigious award for his accomplishments as well as a commendation in a couple of weeks for his many years of service to the crown at the annual Hommage aux Forces.”
“A couple of weeks? So you’re going to miss the celebration? That’s sad.”
“No. I will return to Pasadonia for a week to participate in the festivities.” A frown creased his brow. “I will miss you. That is sad.”
The news saddened her as well. To distract them both she changed the topic.
“So, what would you like to do? We can do Alcatraz, or stay in San Francisco and do Chinatown, Lombard Street. Or we can skip town and do Napa Valley, the redwoods, or Yosemite.”
He squeezed her hand in appreciation. “Since you bring it up, I have always wondered about Alcatraz. But you must have been there many times and would be bored.”
“No. I’ve only been a few times. Plus this is for you. It’s a date. On Thursday, it’ll be you, me, and The Rock.”
* * *
My days are now defined by the time spent with JC and the time waiting to see him again. I love our time together, his sense of humor, his kindness, his sense of adventure. He’s so smart and mature for his age as his is often the voice of reason in the crowd.
And we’re always in a crowd. His friends are so zealous with him you could mistake them for bodyguards. How he laughed when I told him that. And then he stole me away for precious alone time.
I’m not so fond of his control. He’s a master at stopping before we go too far. He’s so hot, and it feels so good when I’m in his arms. I want him and it hurts to think he doesn’t want me enough to go all the way.
Maybe it has something to do with the sadness I sometimes see in him. He does a good job of hiding it most of the time but there are moments when he grows pensive and I can see it in the grimness of his mouth, the shadow in the back of his eyes.
I know it has to do with his family, but he rarely speaks of them and I hate to pry when his reluctance to share is so clear. Still, I wished I could help more. The best I can do is be there for him and take his mind off whatever upsets him so.
My friends and I have invited the guys on a picnic to celebrate the 4th of July—we obviously miss home more than we let on to each other—and I’m hoping to convince JC to go all the way. I’m ready for some fireworks of my own.
* * *
Amanda tucked a red ribbon into her mom’s diary to mark her place and set the book on her white wicker nightstand. She understood her mother’s joy and her frustration.
Amanda’s heart resonated in woman-to-woman kindredship when her mother mentioned how JC defined her time. It was as if Haley spoke directly to Amanda in matters of love.
Not that she loved Xavier. She clicked off the bedside light and drew the covers up to her chest.
She was smarter than that, but she couldn’t deny the man owned her thoughts. She was either with him or thinking of being with him.
As for the frustration? There were definitely times when Xavier was way too much of a gentleman.
It made her cheeks burn just to admit that. And still she longed for him. They met up most days and yet it wasn’t enough.
Tonight he’d had an event so she hadn’t seen him today. But tomorrow was Thursday, finally, time for their planned trip to Alcatraz. She rolled her eyes in the darkness. Could there be any place less romantic?
Still, she couldn’t wait. She’d have him to herself all day.
Her phone rang. With Xavier on her mind, she flung out a hopeful hand. She knocked into something and even as her fingers wrapped around her phone, she heard her mother’s diary hit the floor.
She told herself it was disappointment not dread she felt when she saw Grandmother instead of Xavier’s name on the small screen.
“Hello Grandmother.” Amanda sat up on the side of the bed and turned the light on. Her clock read 9:50. It was unusual for her grandmother to call so late. “Is everything okay?”
They’d spoken only briefly earlier this week when she called to thank Grandmother for sending the journals.
“Your grandfather and I are fine. I know it’s a little late, but it’s well known you city girls keep late hours.”
Amanda let that slide as she bent to retrieve her mother’s diary from the floor. She flinched a little, knowing her grandmother would be upset if she knew Amanda had been reading one of the journals.
Lying, even by omission, did not sit well with her. She’d been the victim of her grandmother’s well-meaning lies and half-truths too many times. But though honesty was important to her, she saw no reason to hurt the other woman.
“I’m giving an extended lecture tomorrow,” Grandmother came straight to the point. “I’d like you to come film it for me. It starts at nine. You can come by the house and have breakfast with your grandfather first. We’ll expect you at seven thirty.”
It was a typical request. Typical last-minute timing. And Amanda usually jumped to comply. The need to please was so ingrained she rarely thought twice. Not this time.
“I’m sorry. I have plans tomorrow.”
“Oh.” The nonplussed response came down the line, but Grandmother quickly regrouped. “Well, I’m sure you can reschedule. I really need your help.”
“I can’t this time. Maybe Grandfather can do it? His last attempt wasn’t half bad.”
“It wasn’t good either. I need you to do this for me, Amanda. It’s an important lecture, the last in the series. Now be a dear and rearrange your plans.”
“I really can’t.” Wouldn’t. “I’m sure someone in communications can help you, especially if you offer credits for the project.”
Silence screamed disapproval for several long moments. “If you’re working, of course I understand, but I thought this was your rotation for a free day.”
Amanda bit her lip. It would be easy to let her grandmother think it was work, but though her day with Xavier was a reward for his speaking at the museum, it was too much of a stretch to call it work.
“Actually, it’s a date.”
Again a punishing pause dictated Grandmother’s displeasure. “I can’t believe you would put indulgence before duty to your family.”
“Grandmother, you know I enjoy helping you, but the university has audio visual people that can help you. I like this guy, and I’ve already rescheduled with him once.” To help her with the reception she’d abandoned him last weekend.
“I must say your grandfather will be quite disappointed in you Amanda. Obviously moving to the city has changed your priorities. I urge you to contemplate your choices so you make better decisions in the future.”
“Grandmother—” The line went dead in her ear.
Amanda drew in a deep breath and let it go in a discouraged sigh. For all Amanda never seemed to please her grandmother, the
demand to try was unending.
Angry with herself for letting Grandmother get to her, Amanda brushed away futile tears. Wishing life had been different, she carefully set her mother’s diary on the nightstand.
* * *
Unsettled and looking for calm in routine she went to the kitchen to refresh her glass of cold water from the refrigerator. Back in the bedroom she set the glass on a coaster and climbed back into bed.
She was reaching to turn out the light when a knock sounded at the door. Well, wasn’t she the popular one tonight? Grabbing her lavender robe with white swirls, she pulled it on over her mid-thigh white nightie and tied the sash.
Seeing Xavier on the other side of the peephole, she swiped at her cheeks, wiping the last evidence of tears on her robe.
Genuine happiness put a smile in her greeting as she opened the door. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“I hoped I would catch you still up so I might see your beautiful face.”
“You’re so sweet.” She reached for his hand and tugged. He cleared the threshold, then stopped.
“The benefit is for a good cause, and was quite a success. However, you were not there. I stepped out for a breath of air and found myself in your neighborhood. I decided to stop by for a good-night kiss.”
“Oh.” She flushed in delight and stepped back, tugging on his hand again. “Then you should come in.”
His eyes gleamed but he shook his head and held his ground. “I better not. I must get back.”
“Of course.” She fought to contain her disappointment. “I’m glad you came.”
“Hey.” He cupped her cheek in one large hand and ran his thumb under her eye. “You are upset.”
“Not anymore.” She ducked her head, a heavy fall of strawberry blond hair falling forward to shield her. But she didn’t want to hide from Xavier, to waste this time with him. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin to give him a shyly bold smile. “Not once I get my kiss.”
“Then I must oblige.” His hand urged her up as he lowered his head and took her mouth with his.
The Making of a Princess Page 5
