Saved by the Monarch. Dana Marton
the moment somewhat chaotic.
“Odd that she should choose to show up now to claim her due. At the worst possible time,” he said, hoping that the chancellor would have some insight about why she’d suddenly decided to come.
The man watched him for a moment. “I suppose there never is a right time to lose one’s freedom,” he responded simply, warm sympathy in his gaze.
Which was one of the many reasons all the princes loved him. He understood what went on inside a man just as well as he understood what went on inside the palace.
“I expect that things such as this are different for the young ladies,” the old man observed gently.
And Miklos felt a sudden shot of guilt for not having considered that she’d probably been planning this day and her wedding for a decade. If not two. Girls were like that.
“Maybe her arrival will save us. If the union goes well, if the people get behind this marriage, it might have the power to stop civil war yet.”
Miklos considered the truth in the chancellor’s words as he returned his gaze to the Valtrian Airline Boeing Airbus. The stairs were at the door and the red carpet rolled out. The ceremonial army guard stood to line her path to the limousine, keeping the paparazzi back. General Rossi had insisted on the guards to honor the occasion.
Like the chancellor, General Rossi had always been a major source of support for the royal family. He was the reason Miklos had entered the army. Rossi had been his mentor for longer than he could remember.
Miklos scanned the plane. “Tell me again why she refused the royal carrier?”
“She isn’t officially a princess and a royal person yet, Your Highness. Maybe she’s eager to enjoy the last few weeks of her civilian life. It might be better this way. People might appreciate seeing her for the first time as an average person. She could become the people’s princess and all that.”
Or not. England had had one of those. Everyone knew how tragically that had worked out.
“This better not be an indication that she’s going to buck protocol every chance she gets,” he said tightlipped, so that the cameras recording him from afar wouldn’t catch his words. “God knows what sort of liberal upbringing she received in America.”
She was twenty-nine, an age that suddenly seemed too young for him to comprehend. What could she possibly know about life? At least she would know all about Valtria and its royal customs and heritage. Her people would have seen to that. She would know what was expected of her. But would she do it?
Why wouldn’t she? He pressed down on an unexpected wave of unease. If she weren’t prepared to do her duty, she wouldn’t have come here.
Some movement showed at last at the plane’s door. The military band struck up Valtria’s national anthem. Two little girls dressed in white formal dresses appeared out of nowhere with a spectacular bouquet of Valtria’s signature purple roses, their national flower. Judging by the chancellor’s pleased expression, he had arranged that.
Miklos stood ramrod straight, not a twitch betraying his impatience. He wanted to be done with his official duties of meet and greet and get back to investigating just who’d been down in the tunnels with him earlier. He didn’t have to worry about Lady Judit feeling neglected. Her weeks were booked touring the palace and country with a receiving committee, meeting everyone who counted, interspersed with only brief visits from him. They would have enough time to get to know each other once they were married.
The airplane’s door opened, a flight attendant appearing first as she pushed the door to the side with a nervous smile on her face.
Followed by Lady Judit Marezzi—his future princess.
The first thing he noticed was that she was not, in fact, a girl. She was a stunning woman, a thousand times more beautiful than the snapshots in the chancellor’s reports. Waves of auburn hair reached to the middle of her back, glinting bronze in the sun. She was lithe, her movements graceful, her simple ivory dress accentuating her feminine figure.
His suppressed reluctance eased a notch.
Then he noticed the shock, surprise and confusion on her face as she looked at the receiving line. There was no greeting smile, no little wave, no pose at the top of the stairs for the cameras as was customary on state arrivals. In fact, she clutched her oversize handbag as if she were ready to bolt. Almost as if…
As if she hadn’t expected him to be there at all. Almost as if all this was a surprise to her.
WHEN IN ROME, DO AS the Romans do. Judi looked down the stairs, took a deep breath and moved forward, aware that a planeful of weary travelers waited to deboard behind her. Maybe Valtria always went all out for arriving tourists. She only wished, as she walked the red carpet, that when she’d been bumped up to first class she hadn’t received the first seat in the first row. She wouldn’t have minded if another passenger was first off the plane, somebody who’d been here before and knew what to do.
Then she reached the ground and two adorable little girls came to curtsy before her and hand her an enormous bouquet of the most gorgeous pale purple roses she’d ever seen. Cameras flashed, reporters shouting in various languages. She recoiled from them as she caught a few questions in English, “Why now?” and “What are your plans?”
Which pretty much told her that there was a misunderstanding of giant proportions going on here. Either that or she was on some hidden-camera show, but for the life of her she couldn’t think who would set her up like that.
She was a little cog working at a large company that made video games. In other words, a complete nobody.
A portly, official-looking man stood at the end of the red carpet in front of a black stretch limousine. He was smiling from ear to ear, looking at her, his outfit straight out of some Renaissance painting, wearing enough velvet to do Elvis proud. But it was the military official next to him who drew Judi’s attention. He looked vaguely familiar.
His dark eyes watched her with disquieting intensity. He was a head taller than the man in the funky robes and filled out his uniform in a way that could make a girl sigh. The way he carried himself meant he was the man in charge. He had a charismatic smile that made looking away from him nearly impossible. If all Valtrian men looked like him, she might have a pretty interesting holiday yet.
More men in uniform lined her path. If it weren’t for the red carpet, she would have thought this was all some sort of security measure and the handsome stranger the security chief. As it was, she figured there had to be someone important on the plane, a celebrity even, and tried to think back to her fellow passengers in first class. Then glanced back. The two guards who’d been standing just outside the airplane’s door when she’d stepped out were still there, holding everyone else back.
Her steps faltered right in front of Liberace and the army guy. Their smiles widened as they looked at her expectantly.
She was pink-eared embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m who you think I am,” she whispered to them and looked for a way to gracefully disappear. Sadly, a trapdoor on the tarmac did not conveniently present itself.
Liberace looked confused. Army guy looked as if he might have expected her to say something like that.
But before he had a chance to respond, Liberace inclined his head and said, “Your Highness, may I present the Lady Judit Marezzi.”
The air stuck in her lungs. And stayed there permanently when his Highness—his Highness?—took her hand and brushed a warm kiss over her knuckles. Oh my God, he was! She recognized him from media photos now, although the Valtrian royal family was never as big news in U.S. tabloids as the British. But because of her Valtrian roots, the few times they had been mentioned, she’d paid attention.
His lips were utterly masculine and bone-meltingly sexy, and might have twitched, whether with annoyance or amusement she couldn’t tell.
“Welcome back to Valtria. I hope your flight was pleasant.”