The Making of a Princess. Teresa Carpenter
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can’t stop thinking about him. He makes me happy. And we haven’t even been alone; always we’ve been in a crowd of friends though we’ve spent hours talking. And today he stole a kiss.
Stole? Why do I say that when I wanted it so badly? And he actually made my toes curl. I’ll never look on that term as a cliché again.
Amanda laughed, relating with her mother as she read on.
The next time he asks me out I’m going to agree. It may be foolish to pursue a relationship when I’m here for such a short time. Mother would say so. But feelings this strong deserve a chance. If I know it’s not for forever then I should be safe, right?
I haven’t journaled for years but I needed to put my thoughts in order, and this helped. Maybe it will help, too, to read about my romantic adventure when summer is over and I’m back home in the position mother has chosen for me. Or since I’m being brave here, it’ll give me courage to be brave there and seek a position of my own choosing.
Amanda read the next two entries but her mother’s “prince” had had to pop away on business and it was mostly angst about her original decision not to go out with him, and how she wouldn’t make that mistake again if she did, please God, get to see him again, and he still wanted to see her alone.
A lesson learned to grab opportunity when it hammered on your door.
Closing the book, Amanda checked her alarm and then switched out the light. Thank goodness for Michelle, and the push she gave Amanda at the preview event. Otherwise she’d be like her mother, wishing and regretting what might have been instead of remembering a fabulous kiss.
With a sigh she closed her eyes and let her mind take her back to Xavier’s embrace.
Xavier wore his dress uniform for his talk at the museum. His role as senior security officer for the exhibition called for discretion so he and his men wore black suits with white shirts and a black tie adorned by a tie pin of the Royal Republican Guard crest.
But for this event the he figured if he was speaking on being a royal guard he should look like one. The pants were navy with a gold-banded red stripe down the outside of the leg; the jacket was stark white with black epaulettes and red braiding looped over the right shoulder. Medals and ribbons earned through the course of duty decorated his chest to the left.
At home he’d wear his dress sword sheathed at his side. As this was a peace mission, he’d left it locked up in his quarters at home. In its place he’d borrowed one of the simpler weapons from the collection and carried it in a long leather case.
The Children’s Museum of Art and Science sat on the edge of Golden Gate Park. A two story red brick and towering glass building, it married the romance of art and the clarity of science.
Inside, a woman seated at the information desk directed him up a flight of stairs and to the left.
“Oh the kids are going to love you.” She chortled. “I might sneak up and have a peak myself.”
He thanked her and bowed, earning another trill of delight. The corner of his mouth curled up as he took the stairs. American women were so easy to charm.
He found Amanda surrounded by children ranging in ages from about six to ten. She sat in their midst holding a copy of the Little Engine That Could, explaining the mechanics of a steam engine.
The kids were totally into the lesson. And it quickly became clear they were trying to trip her up. But she stayed on point and answered all their questions, patient and in control.
“Why do they call it a choo-choo train?” One youngster asked.
Amanda reached down and picked up a large picture of a steam engine. “Well, see in this diagram how the steam vents out into the air?”
“Yeah,” the kids called.
“When this valve opens, the steam escapes in a rush of pressure making a choo-ing sound. As the train starts, this piston,” she pointed to the diagram, making sure all the kids could see, “is moving very slowly, but once the train starts rolling the piston gains speed and the exhaust is released faster and faster and each time it goes choo, choo, choo.” “Thoo-thoo train,” declared a little boy missing his front teeth.
“That’s right.” Amanda looked up and spied Xavier.
Her face lit up, showing her delight in seeing him. His gut tightened as an answering pleasure swelled in him.
But he had no time to worry over the warmth of his reaction to her interaction with the kids. She was a natural with them, a clear indication she’d make a good mother someday.
Noticing her attention had strayed, the children followed her gaze to him.
“It’s Prince Charming.” A little girl gasped.
Mon dieu. The Lord save him. He supposed he did look a bit like the cartoon character in his uniform. The Lord knew he never wanted the pressure that came with the crown.
Duty and friendship put him close enough to the Prince to see what he dealt with on a daily bases. The demands—everyone wanted something from him—the politics, the economy, the public appearances … it was never ending, and it all fell on the Prince’s shoulders.
“He does look as handsome as Prince Charming, doesn’t he?” Amanda saved him. “But Prince Charming is a character in a book. This is Xavier Marcel LeDuc, Commandant of the Royal Pasadonian Republican Guard. He’s a real Royal Guard to the Prince of Pasadonia.”
“Wow.” The exclamation came in one voice.
Xavier bit back a grin and bowed to his audience. The little girl who called him Prince Charming melted to her knees. He met Amanda’s gaze and she winked at him. That did win a smile.
“It is my pleasure to meet you,” he said to the small crowd of children. “Miss Carn has kindly asked me here to talk to you about my profession.”
“Yes.” Amanda took control. “Everyone take a seat. We’ll let Commandant LeDuc speak for a few minutes and then you can ask some questions.”
Taking his hand, she led him to the front of the group then she squeezed his hand and left him to it.
“Wait. Hold this.” He pushed the leather carrying case into Amanda’s hands.
She gasped a little at the weight. “What is it?”
“Visual aid. I borrowed a sword from the collection, but I did not realize it would be such young children.”
“Oh my, that would be an impressive show and tell.” She bit her lip as if considering the idea and then shook her head.
“You’re right, they’re too young. They’d want to touch.” She grinned. “You can show me later.”
He deliberately put the thought of showing her his sword from his mind as he turned to his task. Looking at the young faces he realized he needed to keep this simple.
“Pasadonia is a small country in Europe, and instead of a president we have a Prince. This lovely young lady called me Prince Charming, but in fact I’m the person who guards the Prince.”
“Like the secret serve guys?” One of the older boys asked. “I saw them in a movie.”
“Yes, the Secret Service is an agency responsible for protecting the President and other important dignitaries. I am a soldier. In Pasadonia there are two branches of the military, one is civil defense and the other is responsible for protecting the royal family.”
“If you’re a soldier, how come you don’t have any weapons?” a husky kid with spiked blond hair and freckles demanded. “The policeman who talked to us had a gun.”
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