Stolen Kiss From a Prince

by Teresa Carpenter

  KATRINA STARED AT the shocking headline. She had accompanied the twins as they saw their father off to a meeting, and Jean Claude had grabbed her hand and drawn her outside to ask how she was settling back into the palace.

  “Katrina, I’m so sorry,” Bernadette said. Behind her, Amanda ushered the boys inside with the help of the assistant.

  “No.” Katrina shook her head. “I am sorry. I brought this to your family.”

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself for the shameful behavior of the paparazzi.” Bernadette’s temper flared. “You have suffered so much, but you can’t give them power over you. Anyone who knows you will see it for the rubbish it is. For the rest, most people know these tabloids are more fiction than fact. Trying to fight them would only draw out the sensationalism.”

  “I know, but I hate that you and Jean Claude are drawn into my drama.”

  “Dear, if not you, it would be someone else. Jean Claude is the trifecta for the paparazzi. He’s a royal Prince, a world leader, a handsome celebrity. He will always be a prime target. As his goddaughter, that attention is extended to you.”

  Katrina knew Bernadette spoke the truth. Coming out of the shadows meant dealing with the press.

  Her mobile phone beeped indicating a text message. Meeting Bernadette’s gaze, Katrina reached for the phone. “Julian again.”

  The text read: ANSWER YOUR BLOODY MOBILE.

  On cue the phone rang in her hand. This time she recognized Julian’s number. Bernadette squeezed her shoulder and walked away, giving Katrina privacy. Sliding her finger across the screen, she tried for casual. “Hello.”

  “Katrina.” Relief and ire both infused the word. “I saw the tabloid this morning. Are you okay?”

  “Thank you for your concern. I am fine.” And she would be.

  “Bloody press can’t leave us alone. Why didn’t you take my call?” he demanded.

  “You did not call.” She took pride in the steadiness of her voice. “Marta did.”

  “You knew she called for me.”

  “I have found I am not inclined to wait for you.” Oh, that felt good.

  Silence sounded from the other end. “I do not care for this stubborn streak in you.”

  “Just because I refuse to be your puppet does not make me stubborn,” Katrina protested.

  “Woman, you are the embodiment of stubborn. And meddlesome, persistent, smart, giving, caring and sexy. I’ve missed you.” A huskiness added weight to his statement.

  Oh, she’d missed him, as well. So much. But she couldn’t let the pain sway her. “How is Sammy?” she asked instead.

  “Doing well. He likes Inga. He still asks after you. He wants to know if you’re ready to come home.”

  She closed her eyes against the want. “I am home.”

  *

  Julian threw down his phone and stood to pace. He was an intelligent man. So why did he still allow her to distract him? Why couldn’t he concentrate?

  A knock preceded his father’s entrance into his office.

  “Son—” Lowell took a seat in the more comfortable conversation area, forcing Julian to go to him “—I’ve heard of the tabloid article. How is Katrina doing?”

  “How should I know?” Julian played it cool. As he had done since she left, preferring to keep the fact he was slowly falling apart to himself.

  “Because you phoned her up as soon as you saw it.” Lowell rode the chair as if it were his throne. He nodded to Julian to sit. “I assume you spoke with her. Unless you lacked the intelligence to call her directly and had your secretary do it. In that case, she probably rejected your ass.”

  Julian ground his back teeth. He’d been in meetings, damn it. Which he would have happily have left to talk to her once she was on the line. He should be in a meeting now, but bollocks it all, he needed a few minutes.

  He picked up the extension on the table in front of him and instructed Marta to push his day back thirty minutes. He hung up on her protest that his flight to the Peace Symposium left in two hours. Putting thoughts of the symposium and the Europol vote that preceded it aside, he sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the leather armrest.

  “She said she was fine.”

  “Did she sound fine?”

  Julian considered his father’s question. How had she sounded? He had to think about it. He’d been too busy fighting the need to see her, to hold her, to analyze how she sounded. Now he did. A little shaky at first, but she’d grown in confidence.

  “She did actually.” Which drove him a little crazy. An unreasonable response. Why should he care if she missed him? “I told her Sammy wants her to come back,” he revealed.

  “Ah.” His father nodded as if unsurprised, and then he lifted a bushy eyebrow. “You mean you want her to come back.”

  “Not at all,” he denied. “We’ve been over this. My duty is to the country.”

  “Of course. It’s for the best. What does she have to come back to?”

  Julian rocked forward in his chair, buried his fingers in his hair. “I offered her a kingdom.”

  “Son—” the proximity of Lowell’s voice indicated his father leaned forward to speak quietly to him “—to Katrina a kingdom is more a detriment than an inducement.”

  “Sammy,” he said desperately.

  “Ja, she loves the boy,” his father agreed. “But Sammy wasn’t enough to keep her here, and he won’t be what brings her back.”

  “She loves me, too. I saw it in her eyes.” Those incredible, violet eyes that revealed every emotion. He’d seen everything in the deep blue depths, from disapproval, to amusement, to anxiety, to passion, and yes love. Which left him with the question, “If she loves me, why did she leave?”

  Lowell rose and patted him on the back. “Perhaps it’s what she didn’t see in your eyes.”

  *

  “Katrina, you look lovely,” Jean Claude said as he stepped into the lounge of their shared hotel suite. Looking smart and dignified in a tuxedo, he crossed the beige carpet of swirling leaves to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for agreeing to attend the gala with Bernadette and me.”

  “The Peace Benefit Gala is a worthy cause.” She swirled the skirts of her lavender ball gown. “And who does not like a party?”

  “You.” He squeezed her hand, drawing her to the comfortable couch to sit with him. “In the past you have avoided social occasions, or stuck to the shadows. Tonight you’ve agreed to step into the limelight with us.”

  “Bernadette explained your press secretary felt a public appearance with the three of us would help discredit the image projected in the tabloids.” She perched on the edge of the couch. If she sat back in this dress, she’d need a crane to get out. “I’m happy to help in any way I can. Especially as it is my—”

  “Stop.” He shook a finger at her. “It is nobody’s fault. The paparazzi do not need a reason. If they have nothing to report or sensationalize, they will make it up. As you saw earlier this week. Now that you are a public figure, you will be targeted more often. You cannot fight them...you can only put out the image you want to project and hope the world sees the truth.”

  A public figure? Her? It seemed surreal, but she supposed the fact she received her own invitation to the Peace Benefit Gala confirmed her celebrity. The international event was well attended by the rich and famous, from actual royalty to Hollywood royalty. She pleated the tulle on her skirt. “What if the world does not see the truth?”

  “Then that is their problem.” His hand settled over her restless fingers. “You cannot let the press rule your life.”

  “I know.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I have finally learned that lesson. It may just take a while to get used to it.”

  His gray eyes smiled. “We will help you as much as we can. Tonight all you have to do is smile and look like you’re having a good time.”

  “I can handle smiling,” she assured him. Looking happy might be harder to pull off. On the table her mobile phone vibrated. Probably Julian ag
ain. After talking to him two days ago, he’d persistently called, and she’d persistently refused to answer.

  She required distance to get over him. Speaking with him only made it harder to get her emotions under control. Love for him squeezed her heart. If not for him she would never have had the confidence to step out with Jean Claude and Bernadette tonight. Julian’s faith and belief in her gave her the courage to believe in herself, to command her own power.

  Tonight she was proud of herself. Despite her heartache, she must put Julian behind her and move forward.

  Bernadette swept into the room in a figure-hugging designer gown in a deep ruby red.

  “Darling—” Jean Claude rose gracefully and went to her “—you are stunning.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I will be the envy of every man at the gala.” He kissed his wife’s hand and wrapped it around his elbow before extending his other hand out to Katrina. “Shall we go?”

  Katrina gave her mobile one last glance, lifted her chin and joined Jean Claude and Bernadette on the pathway to her future.

  *

  Turned out looking happy came easily enough with Bernadette running an amusing commentary in Katrina’s ear as they arrived in the limousine and began the press gauntlet known as the red carpet.

  The television entertainment and media magazine professionals were all very positive and friendly, but it was still quite overwhelming. Katrina planted a smile on her face and stuck close to her friends.

  Bernadette kept looking over her shoulder. At first Katrina thought the other woman was just keeping tabs on her, but she finally realized she was watching for someone or something.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked the Princess between interviews.

  “Of course.” Bernadette smiled brightly.

  They were a quarter of the way down the red carpet, speaking with a British fashion personality about the designers of their gowns, when Katrina felt the heat of a masculine body slide in behind her and a man took possession of her hand. She knew instantly who it was. The way the fashion announcer lit up only confirmed her guess.

  “And we are joined by Prince Julian of Kardana,” the pretty blonde gushed. “How cheeky of you to sneak up on us. You look quite dapper this evening.”

  “Thank you. I’m happy to join my friends for such a worthy cause.”

  “Yes, it’s brilliant to see so many lovely people here supporting peace.”

  The chitchat went on for a moment more and then Jean Claude led their party off the dais. As soon as they were clear, he offered Julian his hand. “My friend, it is good to see you.”

  After greeting the Prince and Princess, Julian lifted Katrina’s hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her fingers. “I would choose to be nowhere else this night.”

  “Is this part of the plan?” Katrina demanded, pulling her hand from Julian’s. She stared daggers at Bernadette. “It would have been nice to have some warning.”

  “Julian called at the last moment and asked to join us. It seemed a nice touch to bolster the image we were going for. You would only have fretted if I told you.”

  Katrina was given no opportunity to respond as event personnel urged them along.

  She should have expected something like this. Bernadette was happily married. She wanted everyone to have a loving family like she did. And for some reason she believed Katrina and Julian belonged together. Maybe it was that sense of responsibility she’d spoken of earlier for insisting Katrina accompany Sammy and Julian back to Kardana.

  She felt surrounded by him. The reporters and cameras all but disappeared as she absorbed his heat, inhaled his scent, melted at his touch. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to her.

  At the first opportunity she intended to take a firm hand and inform him he couldn’t keep disrupting her life with his repeated calls and impromptu appearances. She’d finally conquered her fear; surely she possessed the strength to stand strong in putting their fling behind her.

  Julian bent his head to whisper in her ear. “You may take me to task once we are inside.”

  She sent him an arch look over her shoulder that didn’t quite connect with his eyes. “You can be certain I will.”

  So she smiled some more, talked endlessly about her gown, and carefully remained noncommittal to any questions regarding her relationship with Prince Julian. A task made easy as he fielded all inquiries with a brash smile and misdirection.

  Finally they reached the entrance and the receiving line. She greeted the dignitaries with somber courtesy and happily accepted a flute of champagne once she entered the ballroom. The bubbles tickled the back of her throat and sent a pleasant fizzle tingling through her.

  Julian’s hand at her waist constantly reminded her of his presence. A circumstance she needed to deal with immediately. She wasn’t an actress. She had no hope of fooling the entire assembly of celebrities and world leaders into believing they were a couple.

  “Time to chat.” She grabbed his hand and drew him through the throng to French doors leading to a balcony lit by miniature lights threaded artfully amongst the crawling ivy.

  He came willingly, practically pushing her out the door. She turned to him, but he was already yanking her into his arms. No time to protest before his mouth slammed down on hers. He ravished her with tender demand, taking the kiss deep. Equal parts possessive and obsessive, he pulled a response from her that had her arching onto her toes seeking to get closer to him.

  Or maybe that was just her wanting more of him, reveling in his embrace, sinking into the feeling of safety, and home, and the rush of her blood through her veins as sensation built on sensation and she longed for more.

  He nipped her bottom lip. The tiny sting of pain brought her back to her senses. And still it took a moment to gather the strength to push him away.

  Finally she created an inch between them. That’s all he’d allow, drat the man. And her breasts still brushed his chest with every inhalation as she fought to regulate her breathing, but the space existed, bringing with it the ability to think. Inch by inch she’d gain more.

  Her sanity demanded it.

  “Why are you here, Julian?” She met his gaze for the first time since his arrival. He looked happy, more at ease than she’d ever seen him. She gritted her teeth. How like a man.

  “I’m here for the Peace Symposium. The Europol vote, remember.”

  “Oui. I meant why are your here at the gala? Balls are not your thing.”

  “You are here,” he said simply. “We are on a date. I took your advice today.”

  “We are not on a date,” she informed him emphatically. “What do you mean? We did not talk today.”

  “Only because you refused to answer my calls.” He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “You are so beautiful. A blind date, then. I’m courting you. I meant the advice you gave me about voting with my conscience on the Europol police initiative. I gave my argument and voted accordingly.”

  “You cannot court me. I rejected your proposal.” The urge to hug him had her inching backward. “I am glad you decided to vote from the heart. It was the right thing to do. I can see the peace it has brought you.”

  “Any peace you see is because I’m with you. Do you realize we never officially dated?” He eliminated the ground she’d gained. “I must court you to change your mind. Turns out others agreed with me, and the initiative was recalled for further refinement.”

  “And you are celebrating by harassing me?” She took a full step back and came up against the bracket of his arms. Why did he have to make this so hard? Anguish leaked into her next plea. “You need to let me go.”

  “Never.” She was in his arms again, being softly kissed.

  What did he mean? Her heart swelled. With fear? With yearning? She couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

  “Do not play with me, Julian. Not about this. It is too important.”

  “Why would you think this?” He caught her chin on the edg
e of his hand, coaxing her into meeting his gaze. “Have I ever lied to you?”

  She failed to recall a single instance.

  A symphony added background music to their little drama as the dancing began inside. The lilting notes of Strauss’s “The Blue Danube” started the event off with a waltz.

  He held her close enough to mimic the dance, but neither of them moved as she scanned his face for a clue to his plan. She saw earnestness and sincerity, but dare she believe he cared?

  “Come home,” he demanded, all playfulness gone. “You belong in Kardana. With me. With Sammy.”

  “I love Sammy, but he cannot be why I return to Kardana.” Bernadette was right, only Katrina could give her power away. She deserved to be wanted for herself, not for her child care capabilities.

  “Then return for me,” he directed her. “I know this thing with the press is my fault. I should never have brought you to their attention. I thought I was so smart, but I only hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  “Do not be. If I brought one thing home with me from Kardana, it is a realization that everyone has been right. I have been playing ostrich, hiding my head in the belief if I couldn’t be seen, I couldn’t be hurt.”

  “You’re stronger than you think.”

  Wrong. But she refused to live in fear anymore.

  She was done living in a prison of her own making. Done hiding.

  “You believed before I did.” Taking back her power allowed her to see he’d been right. “I should have trusted Jean Claude, had more faith in myself.” She did not care to be fodder for the press, but she no longer feared her violation would be splashed across the tabloids for all to see. “You have given me a peace of mind I would never have otherwise. For that I thank you.”

  “I’m glad. The lord knows there’s no peace to be found without you. I need you, Katrina. I can’t think clearly without you.”

  “That is only because you are unused to anyone challenging you,” she advised him. “You will get over it.”

  “I don’t believe I will,” he muttered. “I need you to challenge me, to help me think. To give me the patience to deal with all the people.”

  “There is only one reason why I would return to Kardana.”