The Making of a Princess. Teresa Carpenter
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He knew what he wanted and took it.
And she gave, leaping into the embrace with wonder and enthusiasm. Arms locked around his neck, she reveled in his strength, in the feel of his hands on her. Her toes actually curled as she sought purchase for her shaky legs.
A car passed them on the opposite side of the street. The intrusion of reality into their world caused Xavier to lift his head. Gently he feathered kisses across her cheek and whispered sexy words in her ear.
“Tu me fais oublier moi-même. You make me forget myself.”
“Me too.” Necking on the street? Her grandmother would freak. But Amanda couldn’t bring herself to care. All she could think of was more.
“I must say goodnight.” With obvious reluctance, he saw her safely seated. And then he stepped back and raised his hand in farewell.
She pressed her hand to the window and made herself drive away. She blew out a breath that lifted the bangs off her forehead. Oh boy. She was so lost. Absolutely gone. He made her feel alive, feminine, desirable.
She knew she was setting herself up for heartbreak. He’d be leaving in a few weeks and her life was here. There was no future to this relationship.
But better heartache than regret. She was tired of being afraid to trust. Tired of letting fear rule her. She felt safe with Xavier. And she longed to explore the chemistry that sizzled between them. She didn’t want to look back and wish she’d had the courage to grab life and live it to the fullest for the time they had together.
She was going into it with her eyes open. But oh yeah, she was going for it.
Xavier strolled back to the museum, his gaze locked on the vehicle carrying Amanda Carn into the night. When the car turned from his sight, he fixed his gaze forward and tried to calculate exactly how big a mistake he’d just made.
For the first time, man and soldier were at odds as desire warred with duty. He liked this woman, he wanted her physically, but if she was of the royal family, his duty was to protect her against all threats, including himself. With the addictive taste of her still on his lips, he recognized the challenge that represented.
Inside he did a final walk through of the entire museum, as was his habit, ending with the exhibit rooms.
He knew his duty, lived and breathed it day in and day out. Duty was what kept the soldier from kissing her when she so obviously wanted a kiss as much as he wanted to get his mouth on her. The shadow of hurt as she moved away drew the man in him forward as he sought to erase her pain.
And his.
Now may be the only time he had with her, this time of uncertainty while the DNA test was pending. Once her identity was confirmed, she’d be forever out of his reach. And after seeing her next to Vivienne’s portrait again tonight and hearing her mother had been in Pasadonia, he had little doubt a royal connection would be made.
Satisfied the facility was secure he gave his men final instructions and signed out at the security desk.
“Did your date enjoy the private show?” the duty officer asked congenially.
“Yes,” Xavier answered evenly. “She works for one of the local museums so she appreciated the value of the collection.”
“Huh,” the guard made a disappointed noise. “She looks a lot like one of the portraits. I thought she might be visiting royalty.”
“No,” Xavier denied firmly. “She’s just a beautiful woman and a friend.”
That was his answer. Until notified otherwise, Amanda was just an attractive woman he wanted to get to know better. The soldier’s orders were to keep her close, to obtain information.
The man intended to do just that.
CHAPTER FOUR
AMANDA LET HERSELF into her apartment still floating high on that goodnight kiss. She’d replayed the date over and over in her head, reliving the best night of her life.
Dinner at The Top of the Mark proved a feast for the soul. Thirty-four floors in the sky, the revolving restaurant provided a panoramic view of the city. She felt like she was eating among the stars, making the four-course meal a gourmet dream.
And that wasn’t even the best part. Xavier elevated the experience to a whole new level. Attentive and charming, the conversation flowed so smoothly time flew.
She kicked off her shoes and set them neatly in the closet as she remembered the trip to the museum where he gave her a personal tour of the exhibit he protected so zealously.
The jewels and costumes took on extra meaning as he spoke of the events, both violent and celebratory, where they’d been worn or used. Coronations, balls, and battles—the entire collection represented a way of life far beyond her imagining. It seemed the thing of fairy tales, but grittier, with all the trials and tribulations of real life, of real people.
And his kiss. Oh my.
He made her feel as if she’d never been kissed before. And she hadn’t, not by a man of his experience. And yet it wasn’t practiced. It was totally personal, totally focused, totally intense.
He’d made her toes curl, her skin tingle and her body shiver in the best possible way. With longing and need.
Stripping in the bathroom, she placed her dress in the dry cleaning, her lingerie in the hamper.
She’d never needed before. Not that her experience was vast. Sure she’d kissed a few guys, but she’d only had one lover, and it had been pleasant enough, but it turned out he was more interested in a good grade from her grandmother than in Amanda.
Big mistake on both their parts.
In the shower she admitted this thing with Xavier may be a mistake as well. She’d let anger at her grandmother propel her into a date she was leery of. And already it would hurt more to walk away from him than it had to leave the jerk who was only after academic acclaim. She missed being with Xavier, wanted to call and see if he made it back to the hotel okay, if they were taking good care of him, if he liked her as much as she liked him.
Her lack of experience rose up in a tide of insecurity as she wondered if he found her immature. She hoped not. Couldn’t believe he did. Those kisses were in no way juvenile.
Enough already. Any more rehashing and she’d revert to grade school mentality and sock him in the arm the next time she saw him. She needed something to occupy her mind or she’d never get to sleep tonight.
A knock sounded at the door. She frowned, unaccustomed to getting company so late. A glance through the peephole showed her manager. She opened the door.
“Amanda. You had a delivery today. I heard you come in so I thought I’d bring it up.”
“Thanks, Mr. Vey.” She took the box and bid the man good night.
Recognizing the box that contained her mother’s diaries, Amanda carried it to her bed and opened it. Inside she found a note from Grandmother.
Amanda,
Your grandfather believes your disappointing behavior the other night was the result of distress. You can thank him for this.
Grandmother.
Even as she read the note, Amanda didn’t know if she could believe it or not. Was this another example of Grandmother ascribing her own feelings to Grandfather, or had he really put his foot down?
Eager to get to the journals, she decided to brood on the issue at another time. Instead she started pulling out books. She pulled one out and flipped to the first page. And found the first reference to her father.
I never believed in love at first sight until I met him, my prince. I know, it’s childish. But that’s how he makes me feel, as if I’ve found my Prince Charming. Maybe it’s because I’m in Europe where castles abound and royalty is a reality.