Emma knocked and peeked in. "Good morning, Your Highness. I just wanted to be sure you were awake."
"Emma, come in."
"Yes, Your Highness." She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
"Thank you for the suit."
"It was nothing, Your Highness."
Chloe smiled softly. "No wonder she adored you so much." She didn't have to say who; they both knew.
"She did?" Emma blushed and grasped the doorknob, as if to escape. "I mean, thank you, Your Highness. We'll be landing soon, so I came to suggest that you take a seat."
"Oh, okay." She thought she should class that up a little, and added, in a more dignified tone, "Thank you, Emma."
"Your Highness." Emma closed the door softly behind her.
Chloe wasted no time; she didn't want to keep anyone waiting on her. She hurried back to the bathroom for one last check of her French braid, which she still wasn't sure she'd gotten symmetrical.
She made only one mistake. It hadn't dawned on her to knock on her own bathroom door until she pulled it open and rushed in to find she was sharing space with William.
And he with no more than a fluffy white towel wrapped around his hips.
"Oh!"
Tall, dark, and handsome in a suit, he was quite stunning out of one.
"Excuse me, Your Majesty."
She should have shut the door before she embarrassed herself further, before she could sweep over his body with an admiring gaze. His hair was damp, his torso bare, his chest broad and smooth. It was quite obvious the broad shoulders she'd noticed yesterday hadn't been enhanced by any padding in his jacket. The only control she could muster at that point was to refuse to let her gaze wander over the towel and beyond.
"Leonard came in a short while ago and told me it is time to take a seat," he said, with a hint of a smile breaking through the dark shadow of morning whiskers.
"Yes, Emma did, too." She wondered how she even came up with such a coherent reply when she should have been backing out the door faster than the plane was flying. "I mean, she came and told me the same thing. In my room," she babbled.
"Are you all right, Your Highness?"
"Hmm? Yes, yes, I'm fine." She pasted on a smile. "Why do you ask?"
Something she probably shouldn't have asked, she noted, as his smile widened and his eyes twinkled.
"No reason," He held out his hand to her.
She stared at it. It was large, strong-looking, tanned. A ruby, set in gold and surrounded by diamonds, adorned his ring finger. It looked very regal and official, not at all like a wedding band. But then, what did she know of royal jewelry? Absolutely nothing. She hoped it wasn't customary to curtsy and kiss his ring or something first thing in the morning. Emma had never mentioned anything like that, but then, Emma hadn't planned on the king at all.
She jumped when William leaned toward her and took her hand in his. When he pulled her toward his room, she dug in her heels.
"All right, then, we will go into your room," he said.
Which meant he stepped right up to her, put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around toward the door through which she had come. She walked forward; she really had no choice with him guiding her like that and, before she knew it, she was sitting in an upholstered chair, knee-to-knee with him in an adjacent one.
His towel slid upward as he sat, then gapped open over one thigh, revealing sturdy muscle and more tanned flesh than her shaky composure could handle at the moment.
"Oh, there you are, Your Majesty," Leonard said tonelessly as he passed through the bathroom and into Chloe's room. He stood very erect, his arms parallel to his body. "Will you be needing anything else?"
"Not until we land."
With William's eyes no longer on her, Chloe let her gaze drift lower, beyond the towel's edge, over his knees, down to his bare feet and back up again. She'd never admired a man's legs before. Heck, she'd never admired any part of a king before, but she was ogling most all of one now.
He seemed perfectly comfortable with his near nakedness. Did he parade around in front of his queen this way? Did he have a queen?
"Find yourself a seat somewhere," he told Leonard.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She snapped her eyes back up into decent territory, only to find she was too late. His grin said he knew perfectly well where she'd been.
The plane bumped down gently and started to taxi.
"There, now I can shave." William rose, headed for the bathroom, but then turned back to Chloe. "Is there anything you need in here first? I can wait." He held out his arm in an invitation for her to brush past him.
She bolted to her feet. "No. Thank you." She glanced around the room as she searched for the nearest exit. "I'm going to go...out now."
Just when she was almost to the correct door and into safer territory, he spoke again. "Your brother said he was sorry he cannot be at the airport to meet you."
"Mmm, okay." She pulled the door open without looking back.
"And Leonard informs me that the airport is packed with people from Ennsway waiting to see you after so many years."
Packed?
She hesitated on the threshold to see if there was a punch line to this news. Although what could be worse? She wanted to dip her toe into this princess role and get used to it slowly, and it seemed she was about to be get a quick dunking.
She needed questions answered, like was the king married? She needed tutoring, as in how to greet a crowd of people at the airport. She needed Emma right behind her, whispering instructions in her ear, all the way to the castle.
And she'd thought she was in over her head when she saw William in nothing more than a towel.
William leaned over the vanity and peered into the mirror, pulling his face this way and that as the electric razor buzzed his whiskers away. He preferred a blade, but not when flying, for obvious reasons. If an occasional air pocket did not cause nicks, then the way Princess Moira had looked at him would have.
She was supposed to be a virgin. King Albert, her father, had practically guaranteed it.
A virgin would be shy around a half-naked man.
His hand jerked, and the razor pinched the skin beneath his nose. "Ow."
Leonard's face appeared in the wide mirror beside his. "Is everything all right, Your Majesty?"
"Fine, Leonard."
He was less than half-naked, he was barely covered.
A virgin would have blushed and turned her eyes away.
"Ow. Damn!"
Leonard's face gave nothing away. "Trouble, Your Majesty?"
William set the razor on the marble with a thud. A good, solid thud to get his mind off the princess's experience with men—or lack thereof—a d onto delivering her to her father before his afternoon nap. "This blasted thing is dull."
"Sure it is," Leonard mumbled.
"Speak up, man."
"I said I will see that it is taken care of today. Perhaps Your Majesty is unhappy with Her Highness?"
William combed his already combed hair and brushed past his secretary. As usual, his suit had been laid out by his valet, and all William had to do was get dressed. He did not even have the luxury of another task to take his mind off Princess Moira.
Leonard continued, "I could call King Albert's secretary and see if the old man is having second thoughts."
"That will not be necessary." As a matter of fact, William was having second thoughts of his own. They had to do with the heat he had seen in Moira's eyes. Perhaps she was not so meek after all. Perhaps instead of his educating a shy virgin on their wedding night, they would both enjoy a more passionate encounter. Perhaps, even, ahead of schedule.
"I just thought if Your Majesty is displeased with Princess Moira, and if her father is willing to void the contract—"
"Over my dead body!"
Leonard's cheek twitched as he restrained a smile. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
William seldom rushed to or for anything; he was a
king, and his world waited on him. But today he dressed quickly and rushed to the lounge, and he knew it was because he was in a hurry to see Moira again. To see if she still had heat in her eyes or if she would successfully mask it. To see if she still looked as stunning in red silk as she had earlier or if the soft look about her was due to just waking up. To see if he was as distracted in her presence as he had been in the past fifteen minutes without her.
* * *
If the airport in Santa Barbara was small, the one in Baesland was downright minuscule, a speck on a map at most, a dot on the side of a green mountain. The terminal had only one gate and no other planes in sight. There were, however, scores of people crowded near the entrance to the building. After the door of King William's jet opened, Chloe waited just inside, eager to see her new home, anxious about proper etiquette. Sunlight streamed in and bathed her in its heat. Children shouted, "There she is!" and "I saw her!"
Emma hovered just behind Chloe's shoulder, a little to one side, and quietly offered advice. "You may wave if you like, Your Highness, but wait here for His Majesty. You'll follow him down the steps."
"Okay." Chloe tested a small wave and got cheers in response.
The crowd on the tarmac below swelled to hundreds of men and women, old and young, and children.
"Shouldn't they be in school?"
"This is a historic occasion for them, Your Highness. They were given a holiday to come greet you."
They held signs reading Welcome Home HRH and We Love You, Princess Moira. They waved banners and small Ennsway flags with their distinctive red, gold, and green diagonal stripes.
"I was told they've been here since before noon."
"Noon?" Chloe glanced at her wrist to check her watch, but she'd handed it over to Moira with the rest of her possessions. It seemed a princess didn't need a watch. "I thought it was morning."
"It is mid afternoon," William replied.
As she heard his deep voice, Chloe turned and watched him stroll through the lounge toward her. She was much happier to see him fully dressed in dark pants and a jacket, his white shirt collar open at the neck, than to see him in a towel. He looked no less manly, and her heart still skipped two beats when she recalled his smooth chest.
"Though it probably feels like morning to you, due to the time difference." William glanced out the door to the tarmac below. "My, look at all the people."
Chloe and Emma had had a few minutes to chat before his appearance. According to Emma, William was a bachelor king, with no announcements of a queen anticipated in the near future. "Though one never knows about the negotiations that go on behind closed doors," Emma had added.
Chloe took note of William's height, his dark good looks, the self-assurance he exuded just standing there, and imagined that every princess in the world hoped for such negotiations on their behalf.
"Shall we?" William asked.
Chloe, puzzled as to why he was asking her instead of stepping forward as Emma had said he would, nodded her agreement.
He extended his arm toward the stairs, definitely indicating that she should go first.
She hesitated.
"You have nothing to fear," he offered quietly. "Your people love you."
"Your people" had a nice ring to it, but that wasn't the part bothering her.
"And I will be right behind you."
That was. Behind her back, she latched on to Emma's hand. "Oh, no, I couldn't, Your Majesty. You go first."
And I'll keep Emma right behind me.
"But I insist, Your Highness. Your people would never forgive me for stealing this moment from them."
Emma nudged Chloe gently in the back, and she deduced that she really had no choice without looking fearful or childish, neither of which appealed to her.
'Well, thank you, Your Majesty. That's mighty nice of you." Another nudge. "I mean, how thoughtful."
Chloe thought she could feel Emma rolling her eyes behind her, but, of course, that wasn't possible. Emma never rolled her eyes.
Chloe stepped through the doorway onto the portable landing. Should she pause and wave? Should she descend immediately, so as not to hold up the king? What would a real princess do?
In the end, she paused briefly and waved a genuine, friendly, American wave. It seemed to be the right thing to do, as the crowd cheered and waved back.
"Are these people all from Ennsway?" she asked Emma over her shoulder.
Only it wasn't Emma who was there.
"Some are from Baesland," William murmured above her ear. "My people also have anticipated your return."
What would Moira say if she were here?
It wouldn't be so hard to figure out, if William wasn't standing so close, if his arm didn't brush against her shoulder, and if he didn't smell so darned good from whatever herbal shampoo was available in this part of the world.
"How nice." It sounded stilted and phony to her, but seemed to go over well with William.
* * *
William did not listen to what Princess Moira said so much as he watched her body language. The way she reached for her secretary from time to time, at the door of the plane, at the bottom of the steps, then again as she approached the Mercedes limousine, showed that the princess clearly relied too much on Emma. It was not good for anyone to have so much influence over a member of the royal family.
"Sit by the window so everyone can see you," Emma said, and the princess did so.
The driver left the airstrip slowly, due to all the people. They surrounded the limousine and walked beside it, all smiles and waves. The princess waved and smiled back. William lowered his window, and noticed that the princess glanced at her secretary before she lowered hers also.
"You do not mind the wind?" William asked.
She smiled, as if she knew a secret. "No, not at all."
And as hundreds of people lined up to see her, she continued to smile, in spite of the delay.
Outside the airport, the driver slowed to a snail's pace and announced, "I do not think we will make it to the castle by three o'clock, Your Majesty."
William resigned himself to that fact.
"What's at three o'clock?"
"Your father naps daily at three. He had hoped to see you beforehand."
The princess continued to touch every hand that made it through the window, large or small, clean or questionable. "And we won't make it in time?"
"No, Your Highness."
Parents crowded close to the car and held their children up so that they could see, or be seen, better. They chattered in Ennswayan, their native language. The driver slowed even more and muttered, "Crazy people, they'll get their toes flattened for sure."
"Then perhaps I could get out and meet some of them," she suggested.
William thought it would be quite rude if he showed how truly surprised he was at her suggestion. "As you wish, Your Highness. Driver, stop the car."
Her secretary opened the door and preceded the princess out onto the road. William got out on his own side. He was a very hands-on king, no stranger or figurehead to his subjects. They approached him as always, with pleasant greetings in either English or Baeslese, and an outstretched hand.
Knowing her father and brother as he did, William had not expected such warmth from the princess. She did not stare at the patches on their pants and jackets. Neither did she shy away as they pressed closer.
A small, round woman, with a tattered blue scarf tied over her hair, grasped Moira's hand and spoke profusely and at great length.
The princess smiled at the woman and said, "Thank you. I'm happy to be home." She repeated it over and over as she walked along the paved road, the limo keeping pace with her.
Some people grasped her hand and, when they heard her speak English, said, "Welcome, Your Highness."
A child held out her arms for a hug, and the princess crouched down—it looked to be a tricky maneuver in her snug skirt and high heels, which were not designed for walking, much less crouching—opened her
arms and obliged. After that, every child wanted a hug, and the parents melted back and smiled proudly.
William was pleased.
From time to time, the princess glanced at the mountain beyond, or at the flowers that grew in abundance in front of every shop, and William thought she took it all in as if she were a stranger to this land. A tourist. He tried to imagine what it would be like to return after being gone over half his life. Sixteen years ago, he had been eighteen and had taken an interest in the kingdom that would eventually be his. But at twelve, the age when Moira left, he had been more interested in falconing than progress and ribbon-cutting ceremonies.
A young girl, about four years old, approached with tears on her cheeks and muddy pawprints on her gold sweater and pants. She sniffled and looked uncertain whether to cry or to speak to Her Highness.
The princess held out her arms to her.
The child, with curly red hair and green eyes, hugged the princess, then quickly stepped back and pinned her with an earnest gaze.
"What is it, sweetie?"
"You won't send my puppy away, will you?" the child asked in her own language, which William understood clearly.
The princess brushed the child's cheek dry with her own thumb while she listened to whatever Emma whispered in her ear. "Of course I won't. And you won't cry about it anymore, okay?"
Emma translated to the child, whose eyes lit up.
"You must have a very special puppy. Will you bring him to visit me sometime?"
The child's mouth dropped open in surprise. She was the perfect mirror image of her mother standing behind her. She nodded vigorously.
"Good. Then I'll expect you."
And William's heart warmed as the princess stood up, shook the mother's hand and continued to move along the road. She was quite different from her brother. In a good way, even if she had become uncomfortable with the language of her people and allowed Emma to speak for her. Perhaps, William dared to hope, she would be of advantage to him in ways other than the size of her kingdom.
He would invite her riding later. It was an activity she'd always loved. As he'd hoped, they could begin their partnership with an easy friendship.
Princess In Denim Page 4
