Pretend Princess (Cordillera Royals Book 1)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
About the Author
Pretend Princess
Carolyn Rae
Williamson Press
Hurst, Texas, USA
OTHER BOOKS BY CAROLYN RAE
Romancing the Gold
Hiding from Love - Witness Protection Series Book One
Protected by Love - Witness Protection Series Book Two
Tempted by Love - Witness Protection Series Book Three
Royal Wedding Cake - The Royals of Monterra Series
Searching for Love – The New Horizon Series
Just the Two of Us - Barefoot Bay Series
Kindle Edition
Pretend Princess Copyright © 2017 by Carolyn Rae
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Williamson Press
Hurst, TX
ISBN: 978-0-9965873-3-4
Cover Art 2016 by Charlene Raddon, Cover-ops Cover Art
Interior Formatting by Rik - Wild Seas Formatting
Published in the United States of America
2 0 1 7 1 0 0 2 1 5 10
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my critique partners, Pepper, Jan, Carolyn 2, Chris, Dorothy, Sabine, KOD, and the DFW Writer’s Workshop, with thanks to Laree Bryant, Jane Lumsden, and Stacey Kuhnz for editing, and to NTRWA and DARA and Yellow Rose RWA for help and encouragement.
Chapter One
Patricia Parker’s heels tapped the marble floor of the foyer as she strolled beneath sparkling chandeliers. Women wearing exotic perfumes glanced her way, too well-mannered to stare. She pretended she looked just as good in her short, black cocktail dress and rhinestones as they did in shimmering gowns and glittering diamonds.
The lights dimmed. Sounds of the orchestra playing the overture to Carmen flowed through open doors. Surprised the small country of Cordillera, nestled against the mountains bordering France, even had an opera house, she hurried past the stragglers disappearing into the main floor of the theater.
“Allysa, wait. I must speak with you.” The deep voice rippled down her spine.
A touch on her arm made her turn to face a man with light brown hair, a well-trimmed beard and a determined chin. She took in his white uniform with gold braids and buttons and the two uniformed bodyguards flanking him. Her gaze moved up past his broad chest to meet deep brown eyes with amber flecks. She gasped.
Could it be?
Even in dim light, Prince Lawrence in the flesh was even better looking than pictures she’d seen on the newsstands at the airport last night. What should she do? Bow? Curtsy? Kiss his hand? His intense look made her feel like a fragile butterfly trying to escape a determined hunter with a net.
“Allysa, where’s your security guard? We have been worried about you. Where have you been?”
“Uh . . . sorry to disappoint you, Your Majesty, but I’m not Allysa.”
“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle. I can see that now. But the resemblance . . .” His deep velvety voice caressed her ears like a lover’s. “You look amazingly like my cousin. May I ask your name?” An engaging smile lit up his face, setting his dimple in deep relief.
“Patricia Parker, but my friends call me Tricia.” That sounded so lame. Couldn’t she have come up with something smoother, instead sounding chatty. Ill at ease, she felt the delicate chain strap of the pricy evening bag she couldn’t resist buying, slip down her arm. She reached to pull it back, but he was quicker.
He settled the chain on her bare shoulder, then met her gaze as if wondering if he’d been too forward.
His warm hand on her bare flesh sent tingles down her arm. His cologne floated past her, rich, exotic and manly. She clutched her sequined bag and took a deep breath. Every day she spoke in front of the class she taught at the university. What could she say? “Do they have performances here often?” She felt at loss to talk about anything else. Why couldn’t she make small talk with him? Although he had two bodyguards standing at attention behind him and one off to the side, he was just a man after all.
No, not like other men. He had an air about him. As if he expected women to crowd around him and everyone to follow his lead.
A broad smile brightened his face. His eyes shone with sincerity and warmth. Warmth directed toward her. Warmth sparking little fires of awareness like luminaries lighting up lawns at Christmas. He must charm all the women of Cordillera.
With a throaty chuckle, he leaned closer. “Smile.”
A sudden flash blinded Tricia momentarily. She caught a glimpse of a photographer scurrying away.
“Does that mean . . . will our picture be in tomorrow’s papers?”
He smiled. “Most likely. Every place I’m seen, and much of what I do, appears in the news. Of course, they never focus on the important things.”
“Like what?”
The prince looked as if he had said too much. “Oh, nothing.”
Tricia was intrigued. “No, really. I’d like to know.”
“I have the same problem as all royalty. The press does not take us seriously. They only note where I have attended the opening of a hospital or danced with an ambassador’s wife. I would like to have a headline, even if just a little one, that mentions my serious work.”
He towered over her, larger than life, making her catch her breath. “And what is that?” she asked.
His expression turned thoughtful. “They never mention I finished at the university with highest honors, or that I set up a student exchange program with several other countries. I also represented our country at trade negotiations with the European Union which will increase trade for Cordillera. At least that made the papers.”
“That must free your father, the king, to deal with your country’s domestic affairs.”
“My father died when I was a child. The king is my uncle.”
“Oh, I thought…I’m sorry about your father, but I don’t understand. I heard you’re in line for the throne. Doesn’t the king have a daughter?”
He nodded. “Unfortunately for her, male succession is the rule here. As the king’s oldest nephew, I will be the next ruler. But he is hale and hearty, and–”
“And that gives you plenty of time to play polo and travel.”
He
looked annoyed.
Probably shouldn’t have said that, but weren’t most princes like that?
“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle. I am involved in several worthy charities, including a vocational school for girls.”
“Oh. Excuse me, Your Majesty, I uh ....” Damn. She couldn’t think of anything to say. A quirk of his eyebrow and his slight smile made her think maybe he wasn’t as affronted as she’d thought.
“Since I am not the king, you don’t need to say Your Majesty. Your Highness is sufficient.” His devilish smile started a delicious stirring inside, like a bud about to blossom.
She took a step back, but he reached for her hand. He held it lightly as if to let her break away if she wished. As he pulled her a step closer, warmth from his body flowed over her.
She tried to pull away, but he kept hold of her hand. She glanced at his face, trying to read him. He grinned. “Can you at least smile this time?” He nodded toward another photographer about to snap their picture. Maybe the prince was only looking out for his public image. What the heck? Might as well play along. She smiled.
The flash went off, making her blink. After her eyes adjusted, she looked up. He’d released her, but his gaze still seemed interested. Good lord, was it possible?
Sounds of the orchestra tuning up rose above the buzz of conversation in the foyer. “So, Your Majesty, will we be linked romantically after this?” She clamped her lips together. That sounded loony and insecure. Her mouth would be the ruin of her yet. He probably dated only royal and noble ladies.
He smiled. “Not Your Majesty. Just Your Highness. My name is Lawrence.”
Tricia swallowed. She couldn’t even get that right. “Uh . . . Your Highness, I must get back to my younger sisters. I’m responsible for them while my parents are away. The minister of commerce and his wife most graciously offered us seats in their box.”
“I see.”
She turned and took a step. However, his touch warmed her shoulder. “Do not go back just yet. I doubt you will be considered my next conquest.”
She could feel the heat rise from her chest. Her face must be flaming. Why had she thought he’d be interested in her? She wanted to flee from his mesmerizing eyes and seductive voice.
He was too sexy for his own good. Probably had to use all his tact to turn away fawning females. Well, she wouldn’t be one. She pulled away. She couldn’t wait to get back to her seat.
His look was stern. “Do not leave yet.”
He had a nerve. She shot him a defiant look. “Where I come from, a woman doesn’t wait to be dismissed if she is ready to leave.”
He looked affronted. “I am definitely considered a gentleman by all citizens of Cordillera. However, I must correct your belief that your picture was taken because you are with me.”
She frowned. “Okay, I get it. I don’t mingle in your society, but you don’t have to rub it in.
* * *
Lawrence smiled. She was full of American impertinence, but spunky and adorable. Apparently unfamiliar with monarchy, she was a challenge. “The last photographer must have also mistaken you for Princess Allysa because you look so much like her. I, too, was fooled at first, even though we grew up together.”
The lights dimmed again, and music swelled. She backed away. “I must return to my seat. The opera will begin any moment.”
He grasped her hand again, his touch gentle this time. “Please. Don’t leave. I would like to invite you to dinner at the palace the day after tomorrow.”
She looked shocked. Of course, she would. She didn’t even know him. Had she heard the rumors the king had a mistress? He didn’t want her to think he was like that. What could he say to make a good impression?
She pulled her hand away. “I appreciate your invitation, but I already have another engagement. Please excuse me. I need to join my sisters.”
Well, that was different. Since when did a lady turn down a prince? The lights dimmed again, and sounds of the orchestra playing the music to Carmen flowed through the theater doors. A lady in a long dress and glittering jewels accompanied by a man in a tuxedo hurried inside. “Please allow me to escort you to your seat.” Fortunately, this time she nodded.
* * *
The press of the prince’s hand on Tricia’s back exuded warmth and a touch of possessiveness. Too bad, her parents had flown out this afternoon and left her in charge.
The faint scent of sandalwood teased her nose as he strode beside her. At the door to the box, he waved to the rotund minister of commerce and his wife. “Buenas noches Señor, Señora De Marco.” He flashed Tricia a brilliant smile. “Au revoir then, mademoiselle.” His fluent use of two languages reminded her Cordillera was sandwiched between France and Spain.
As she slid into a seat at the rear of the box, the prince, so alive, so confident, and unbelievably charismatic, lingered in her thoughts. Was she a fool for not responding to his invitation?
A sense of unreality settled around Tricia as she slipped into her seat. Six-year-old Cindy pulled at Tricia’s skirt. “Was that the prince?”
Becky held a finger to her lips. “Of course, it was. Didn’t you see his picture in the paper last night?”
“Yes, but I thought he’d wear a crown. Wow, a real prince.” Cindy’s face sparkled with animation. “I think he likes you.”
Tricia laughed. “That’s ridiculous. He was just being a gentleman and escorting me back to my seat.”
Fourteen-year-old Becky looked wistful. “I wish he’d smiled at me like that.”
A round of applause wafted up from the auditorium. Tricia placed a finger to her lips. “Shhh, someone’s about to sing.”
Moments later, a tall, dark-haired man in a scarlet uniform stood beside her, startling her. “Señorita, I must speak with you,” he said, his voice low.
Puzzled, she looked up at his face. “Yes?”
He leaned closer. “I am Alfredo Goya, aide to Prince Lawrence. Señor DeMarco, would you please excuse Señorita Parker for a moment?
Tricia rose. Was the prince going to issue another invitation to the palace? She stepped into the hallway.
Mr. Goya bowed. “His Highness, Prince Lawrence, wishes you and your sisters would accept a ride to your home after the performance. I assure you he will be on his best behavior.”
Mr. Goya’s last comment gave her pause, but here was her chance to see what the prince was really like. Surely, nothing unseemly would happen in a short ride to the house where her parents had been staying. “Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.”
Mr. Goya left as quietly as he’d come. Opposite the box where she sat was a larger one with red velvet drapes embroidered with a crown and a monogram. Inside sat a tall man, whose august presence awed her. Two security guards stood at the back. Beside the king, sat a blond woman in a purple velvet evening gown, its low neckline topped with a glittering amethyst necklace. She wore matching earrings that dangled.
As the familiar music of Carmen filled the air, Tricia glanced across the corner of the small theater to the box, where the prince sat with the king and queen. She borrowed the opera glasses from Señora DeMarco, the minister of commerce’s slender wife, and raised them to her eyes.
Prince Lawrence held a program, but he was looking at her. And then he winked.
He was not only aware of his charm, but he knew how to use it. And even though she’d sidestepped his invitation, she bet he’d try again to talk her into it. That could be interesting and exciting … and totally nerve-wracking.
* * *
After the opera, Tricia stood with her sisters outside the theater. People stared at her, making her nervous. As a gleaming white limousine pulled up to the curb, a petite woman in a black cape with a hood approached Tricia. “Your Highness, I’m sorry to bother you, but it would be most gracious of you to speak to the king about equal job opportunities for married women.”
Tricia stood there, speechless. They really did think she was Princess Allysa.
A tall man weari
ng a suit coat over pants that didn’t quite match hurried up to the woman. “Collette, do not bother the princess. Come, it’s time we went home to our children.”
As they walked away, from an open window of the waiting limousine, the prince remarked, “Protesters again. There always seem to be some around.”
A soldier in a red uniform stepped out and held a door open.
Wow,” Cindy exclaimed. “That car is humongous. Is the prince really going to give us a ride home?”
“Yes.” Tricia answered.
Cindy reached out and ran her fingers over the car’s smooth finish. Becky grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled it back.
Prince Lawrence stepped out of the limousine, and Tricia introduced her sisters. She waited for the girls to climb in, then made a move to follow.
A soldier closed the door. Alarmed, Tricia said, “Wait. I need to sit with them.”
The soldier shook his head and opened another door. “Señorita, please sit in here.”
She slid into a creamy leather seat. The prince followed and sat across from her. A glass divider separated them from her sisters.
The prince’s welcoming smile made her feel more at ease. “Now tell me about yourself. What brings you to Cordillera? I would like to know what music you listen to, which movies you enjoy, and what books you read. Do you have any hobbies?” He leaned back, his look focused on her face. He seemed really interested in her as a person.
“That’s a lot to cover in one ride.”
His dark eyed gaze met hers. “You fascinate me. The assured way you move. Your look of vulnerability when I invited you to dinner and your courage in refusing my invitation. I admire that. Now tell me what you do.” Surprisingly, he didn’t seem like a self-important playboy at all, but he was definitely pouring on the charm.
She leaned back. “I teach at a university in Texas, but I came to Cordillera to visit my family. My parents are missionaries here, but they are away at a religious conference, so I am looking after my sisters.”