“He cares for you, too,” Yvette assured her.
“Not enough.”
“How much would be enough?”
Good question. What did she expect from Xavier? That he’d give up a career steeped in family history? Or turn his back on the country he put his life on the line for? Wave goodbye to a family he obviously adored?
As she watched, he parried and thrust, forcing Philippe on the defense. The stamina required for the sport astounded her.
“Too much,” she finally answered Yvette’s question, her throat closing around the words. “There’s too much to overcome. I knew that from the beginning.”
“If you knew this, why did you start something with him?”
Wow. Enough with the tough questions already.
“Because he was gorgeous, and fascinating, and attentive. He’s so far out of my league. I mean look at him.” She gestured to the floor where Xavier wielded a sword as if it were an extension of his arm. “But he made me feel special.”
“To him you are special.”
The second break came with a score of one to nothing, Philippe managing to make one hit.
Tense with the action on the floor and the conversation in the seats, Amanda sat straighter in her seat and turned her head to look at Yvette.
Amanda shook her head. “He had orders.”
“Which he jeopardized by spending time with you.”
“What? No.” That wasn’t right. She knew exactly what his orders had been. His words were burned into her brain. “He was supposed to keep tabs on me, find out what I knew about my father.”
“You think he pretended interest in you to facilitate his orders.” Again it was a statement, not a question. Her eyes were steady on Amanda’s when she said, “This is not Xavier’s way.”
“Yvette.” Of course his mother didn’t want to think her son had led a woman on. Everything he’d told her about Yvette spoke against such treatment.
“Amanda, my son is a professional soldier. He knows how to keep someone under surveillance and extract information without kissing them.”
Xavier was a professional. His seriousness and sense of duty were the first and last things you noticed about him.
“He is one of the youngest men to reach the rank of Commandant in the history of the corps. We are very proud of him. He has achieved this through his dedication to his career and to the crown.”
She knew all this, or at least wasn’t surprised by it. Everything his mother just explained was what was keeping them apart. Yet Yvette’s earnest expression indicated she was trying to tell Amanda something.
“I don’t understand.” She shrugged helplessly. “Every point you’ve made only seems to highlight our obstacles.”
“Exactly.” Yvette patted her arm as if she were the most clever of women. “Xavier is a soldier, so the question is why did he not do his duty as he should? I think because he could not. Because Xavier the man saw someone he wanted and he acted on that desire.”
A collective gasp from the audience snapped her attention back to the match. The last period had begun and Philippe was on the attack, pushing Xavier to the edge of the mat, the sword action more heard than seen. Xavier held his ground, forcing Philippe back with sheer brute strength and a feint that allowed him to gain an advantage.
“Breathe, child,” Yvette advised beside her. “It is not life or death.”
“It feels like it is.” Amanda took a breath. “Those are sharp weapons they’re using. Even with the masks and suits, it’s unnerving to watch.”
“There is much about being a soldier’s wife that is unnerving.”
Another shot to the gut. For a sweet woman, Xavier’s mother played hardball.
“I imagine that’s true.” But she hadn’t really given it much thought. Because much as she loved him, she couldn’t see the future for the obstacles in their way. Often soldiers’ wives had to give up everything to follow their man.
Keeping in touch with friends and family wasn’t as difficult as in past eras, but there was still sacrifice. All impediments aside, could she be a soldier’s wife?
The question deserved more than a second’s reflection but her gut answer said yes. She knew how it felt to long for something with all her heart and the loneliness of feeling as if part of her life was missing.
Yes, a soldier’s life involved risk, but life was full of uncertainties. In truth, you never knew how long you’d have with someone. She’d rather grab what time she could with her love and live life to the fullest every day, than shrink from the thought of loss and face eternal regret.
The match ended with a ring of steel as the referee called halt. Philippe’s one point made him the winner and the crowd cheered as the son bowed to the father in acknowledgement of the victory.
Sweat drenched Xavier’s dark hair, evidence of the workout he’d just had, but the wide smile on his face reassured her he’d enjoyed the match. And then he looked right at her, that brash smile still on his face, and waved. She froze, as heads turned in her direction, being acknowledged by the reigning champion was hardly low profile. Thankfully Yvette waved back, dispelling a lot of the interest.
But the persistent man continued to watch her so she gave a little wave. His grin broadened and then he was swept away as the emcee wrapped up the demonstration by presenting Philippe with a handsome plaque.
Yvette nudged Amanda with her elbow. “My man won.”
Amanda nudged her back with a smile. “I thought you didn’t care who won.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I have a slight preference. I love my son, but one thing I have learned over many years of marriage is to put Philippe before all others. When we are together, everything else falls into place.”
“That’s really lovely.”
Yvette’s smile held a rueful edge. “The truth is we are stronger together than apart. I will not lie, sometimes it is an effort. But it is always worth it.”
* * *
“Anda. Anda ball!” Devin called before launching his ball at Amanda.
“Got it, yeah!” She made a big deal of catching the ball. In jeans and an aqua t-shirt, she enjoyed a few minutes with her brothers before she had to dress for tonight’s ball.
“Yeah!” Marcus crowed. “Anda, cach.” And he threw his ball.
“Goodness.” She opened her arms for the lob coming her way and ended up bobbling the two balls. In the end she threw up her arms and let the two balls tumble to the ground.
The boys giggled and scurried after the rolling balls. She plopped on the grass of the inner courtyard and watched her brothers chase balls and each other around the manicured lawn.
Each day she tried to spend some time with them. They loved being outdoors and this was a somewhat public spot where they could appear to cross paths. Their nanny sat nearby and a guard stood at a discreet distance.
A ball rolled close. She picked it up and tossed it from one hand to the other until Marcus came running. He stopped and held his arms up and she gently tossed it to him. It fell through his arms and he scurried after it.
She leaned back on her arms and waited for the next round of ball. Boot-clad feet appeared in her peripheral vision and she looked up the long, lean length of Xavier. Like the Secret Service back home, the Royal Guard wore black suits and ties, which allowed them to be less obtrusive in guarding the Prince or visiting dignitaries.
His shoulders appeared a mile wide. And though the formal look lent him an austere aura meant to intimidate, she remembered the hard body beneath the dark material and how it felt to be in his arms.
The hot intensity in his eyes made her think he was remembering the same thing.
Putting the dangerous thought aside, she patted the grass beside her. “Have a seat.”
This past week had been one frustratin
g moment after another as they played the part of lovers in public and platonic friends in private. Not that there were many private moments. Something she was sure Xavier deliberately arranged. Being alone with her was something he avoided at all cost.
But if she thought the invitation would chase him away, she was doomed to disappointment. He shrugged off his jacket, tossed it to the ground, and casually dropped down beside her. Like her, he watched the boys running wild.
“They are hard to resist, are they not?”
That quick emotion clogged her throat. “I love them already.”
“So, you are glad you came?”
“Yes.” No hesitation there. She’d found the family, the warmth of approval she’d always longed for here. She and Bernadette were already fast friends and the affection between her and her father grew daily. It made it hard to think of leaving.
“Thank you for convincing me to come.”
“You convinced yourself. You are a strong, smart woman. Brave in the face of change.”
“Wow. It sounds like you think a lot of me,” she teased to hide how his words warmed her soul.
“Aivier! Aivier!” The boys spotted him and came running. A foot away the two of them launched their little bodies in the air, hurtling themselves at Xavier. He caught the sturdy pair easily, tucking the pair under his arms and tickling mercilessly while the boys shrieked with laughter.
After a minute, he set them on their feet with a last tickle of their little bellies. Devin looked at Marcus and the two made another leap at Xavier. The game was repeated again, only this time they bulleted into her. Unprepared, she fell back under their weight, wincing as her hair fanned around her in the grass. That was going to be fun to comb out later.
Xavier loomed above her, ready to scoop the boys away, but she shook her head, thrilling to the screams of laughter and joy until her mouth felt tired from smiling so big for so long. Then she wrapped the boys close and whispered, “Let’s get Xavier.”
Their eyes got big and they rolled to their feet. With evil smiles on their faces, they tiptoed toward where Xavier sat with a content look on his face, momentarily distracted by the phone in his hand. It made for the perfect ambush. Sensing something at the last moment, he looked up in time to brace himself for the twin attack. What he wasn’t prepared for was for her to follow with a hard shove to his shoulders, and they all went tumbling to the ground.
The boys were instantly everywhere, digging in with their little fingers.
“I am not ticklish.” The words rumbled in Xavier’s chest under her ear. “But as I remember, you are.”
In a heartbeat, the target changed from being Xavier to being her. Fingers, big and little, dug into her ribs, making her giggle. For a moment the sight of Xavier looming over her with a look of satisfaction shot her back to her bedroom in San Francisco when it was just the two of them snug in her bed, making love.
And when his eyes flashed with heat, the sense of longing the memory brought reached clear to her toes. She ruthlessly pushed it aside.
Instead she focused on the toddlers. She fought but the three of them were too much for her, tormenting her until tears rolled down her cheeks and she cried out for mercy.
“Stop! Stop!” she gasped.
Xavier relented, rolling to his feet and plucking the boys off her with a fist in the back of their shirts.
While Amanda lay recovering, the boys’ nanny approached. She and Xavier exchanged words and he nodded. “It’s time for them to go inside,” he told Amanda. He kissed each boy on the cheek and then lowered them for her to give each boy a hug and a kiss.
The nanny took the boys in hand and led them inside. After watching to see the trio made it safely indoors, Xavier turned to offer her a hand.
Sad the happy interlude was over, she accepted and the hard yank he gave pulled her full into his arms.
She gasped and looked up ready to—
“We have an audience,” he whispered, angling her slightly so she saw Carlo and Elayna walking together through the courtyard.
“I still say neither of them likes me,” she muttered, feeling the dagger of their glares in her back.
“You exaggerate. Neither has reason to dislike you.”
“Elayna does.”
“She knows that it is over between us.”
“Huh. Knowing and accepting are two different things. And Carlo always looks at me with suspicion in his eyes.”
“That is Carlo. He senses there is something more to your visit and is frustrated that he is not in the know. Ignore him,” he advised, his breath a caress across her cheek. “He cannot hurt you.”
“It’s not just me,” she protested. “I don’t want to cause trouble between my father and his people.”
“Do not concern yourself. Your father knows how to deal with his people.”
Carefully putting her back to the narrowed eyes of her nemeses, she pulled free of his unnerving embrace.
“I should get ready for the ball.”
“Of course.” He bowed his head in acknowledgement and bent to retrieve his jacket. “I will walk you inside.”
She wanted to protest, but welcomed the distraction. With him at her side she was too bothered to wonder at her reaction to his impromptu embrace. She’d been ready to do something, but was it to lash out or latch on?
Rattled by the enforced intimacy and her shifting emotions, half the time she didn’t know if she wanted to hit the man or kiss him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BERNADETTE SENT A young maid to help Amanda prepare for the ball. She knocked just after Amanda climbed into her filmy undergarments.
A bit disconcerted she tried to send the girl away, but Collette insisted the Princess would be most displeased if she failed to assist Amanda in looking her best for the ball.
She held up a makeup case and a curling iron. “I do very nice things for the hair.”
Hair was the magic word. Amanda opened the door wide and let the girl in. She’d been wondering what to do with her unruly mass of hair.
First Collette helped her into her dress and then Amanda sat and let the girl do her very nice things. She asked Amanda a few questions about her tastes, nodding at the honest answers then went to work.
“Oh my.” Surveying her reflection in the mirror, Amanda caught her breath at the stunning picture she made. Strapless, the fitted bodice of the dress consisted of ruched panels with one panel at the breast and one over the hip, encrusted with silver beading. The back laced up like a corset and the skirt fell from the hips to the floor in a glimmering sweep of liquid silver. A short train gave the skirt a satisfying swish.
The makeup was subtle except for the mysterious shadowing Collette had given her eyes. And her hair Amanda sighed. She’d swept the mass up into a sophisticated French twist, but of course there was too much hair, so from the top of the twist on down, the rest cascaded down her back in flowing curls. Tonight she truly felt like a princess.
“Collette, you have magic fingers. Thank you.”
“It is easy when I have such beautiful hair and skin to work with. You are truly lovely.” Collette finished packing up her tools and gave her a smile. “If you please, the Princess asked me to show you to the Blue Room when you were ready.”
“Of course.” Amanda checked her clutch and then followed the maid from the room.
“Enjoy the ball,” the girl said a few minutes later after showing Amanda to a parlor beautifully appointed in shades of blue.
Not wanting to wrinkle her dress, she walked over to admire a painting of blue water lilies only to realize it was a genuine Monet. She blinked, experiencing an Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole moment. But then this whole week ranked as an out of reality experience.
She lifted her chin and drew her shoulders back, standing straight
and tall. She’d handled it.
“Amanda.”
Swinging around with a soft swish of her skirt, she found her father had joined her in the room. He wore a dark suit with a military cut and gold braiding over the shoulders, and his royal crest on the arm, looking every bit the prince he was.
“Papa,” she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “How handsome you are.”
“My dear, you take my breath away.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him for a hug. She sank into the embrace, feeling both safe and cherished. This she realized was what she’d missed her whole life, a simple moment of closeness, a silent exchange of affection.
“I am so happy you came—” he pressed a kiss to her temple “—that we have had this time together.”
“Me too.” She stepped back, putting a finger to the corners of her eyes to catch the tears threatening to fall, before they could ruin her makeup. “I was just thinking how unreal much of this week has been. But the welcome you have all given me has been very real, very warm. Thank you.”
“No thanks are necessary. You are family.” He walked with her to a settee. “Amanda, I want you to know you are welcome to stay here. I will speak with my advisors this week and plan an announcement that you are my daughter.”
“Oh. Really?” Flustered, she prattled with no thought behind her words. She took a breath and looked into his eyes. “I hadn’t considered that option.”
“I hope you will.” He set a black velvet case on the table, to hold her hands. “I wish to acknowledge you as my daughter. You will never be in line to rule, but you will be an honored citizen.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Except Thank you God, she’d never be in line to rule. She thought of her grandmother’s ultimatum versus the warm welcome, the sense of family she’d found here. If she returned to the States, she may mend her relationship with her grandparents, but if she stayed, it was probably finished.
And then there was Michelle and Elle. Leaving them behind was unthinkable.
The Making of a Princess Page 14
