Chapter Two

      Prince Ludwig Johann Ambrose George of Kublenstein, known to the public and the press as Prince Johann, and to a select few as Hans, leaned back against the stiff leather seat of the train to study the woman before him.

      She was very attractive, though she was doing everything she could not to show it. Her glossy dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid in the back. He couldn’t help but imagine taking her hair out of the braid and running his fingers slowly through it. It would be soft, he knew, and probably smelled of flowers. He focused on her eyes, looking for the vivid blue he’d glimpsed there when her glasses had slipped off. They were intelligent eyes. That was what he liked about them. In fact, her face was nice altogether. Straight, unremarkable nose, strong chin, prettily curved mouth, smooth skin.

      It was difficult to tell about her figure, since she wore a rather bulky sweater and baggy jeans, yet it didn’t matter. She was a pretty girl, there was no doubt in Hans’s mind, but she clearly didn’t know it.

      Overall, though, she looked quite different from the women he dated, he thought idly. There was nothing ostentatious about her. Hers was a quiet, understated beauty that appealed to him on every level.

      Her personality was another thing. She was more outspoken than he was used to, bolder. Very pleasant but there was a strength beneath the surface that gave him pause. After all, was an American—were all women raised in America so outspoken? The thought concerned him since he had just hired an American woman, sight unseen, to be the English teacher and caretaker for his two daughters.

      Of course, the woman he’d hired—Anastasia Barimer—had impeccable references. There was considerable reassurance in that. She’d worked at the exclusive girls’ school that his late wife and mother-in-law had attended—one of the most prestigious schools in America. In hiring her, he’d fulfilled his late wife’s single wish for her daughters—that they wouldn’t be packed off to boarding school thousands of miles from home as she had been. Though there had been a lot of distance between Hans and Marie, physically and emotionally, he had enough respect for her to comply with the simple wish she had had for their daughters’ education.

      Pendleton School for Girls had a lot of respect for Marie, too, and he knew they would never send someone unsuitable. Yes, he reassured himself, he’d done the right thing by hiring an American for his daughters.

      And for the future of the monarchy. His people wanted to further international relations. He had several ideas of how to do so, but it would also be a good idea for his daughters to begin learning English from a native. They’d had some lessons, of course, from Frau Markham, but her knowledge of the language was limited. The new teacher would be able to teach them all of the nuances of the language, the idioms, the colloquialisms, all of the things they’d need to know as ambassadors for their country. Truthfully, he could use the practice himself. His plan was that they would only speak English in the house while the teacher was there.

      He’d planned it completely and saw little to no room for error. He only hoped she wouldn’t be as headstrong as this Annie seemed to be.

      He also hoped she wouldn’t be as young. And as…appealing.

      Not that it mattered. He hadn’t wanted Annie to stay and talk during the train ride because of her looks. He’d asked her because he thought she might have some interesting opinions on his country. The fact that this was her first time here made her an ideal person to get a fresh outlook on Kublenstein. That and the fact that she apparently didn’t recognize him.

      He’d spent the last week traveling alone—without bodyguards and secretaries—living among his people, in small villages and towns, and listening to their concerns about their country. The one thing that had come up over and over again was the fact that Kublenstein wasn’t an international player. Most of the world hadn’t even heard of Kublenstein, and those who had regarded it as a quaint little throwback vacation spot. But the people of Kublenstein wanted a voice in the European Economic Community. They wanted to be a force in exports and have the respect of the world for their watchmaking and their chocolates, in particular.

      After hearing all of that, and agreeing with it, Hans could hardly pass up the opportunity to talk with an open-minded foreigner.

      “What is it you do in America?” he asked her, telling himself that his interest was purely clinical and that he was, effectively, gathering data for his interview. Information like the curve of her mouth when she spoke or the brightness that seemed to emanate from behind her eyes would have to be dismissed as irrelevant.

      She paused and her chest rose gently as she took a breath. “School librarian.”

      “Ah.” He nodded. For some reason it surprised him, though he didn’t know what he’d expected. “A librarian. So what made you decide to come to Kublenstein? Did the students at your school study it?”

      She paused thoughtfully. “Well, some have heard the story about the little peasant girl who stopped the war for a day.” Legend had it that a little girl had found a wounded enemy soldier on her front porch during a World War I battle and had assisted him despite the pleas from both sides to return to the safety of her home. While she was out there, no shots were fired.”

      “That’s just a myth.”

      “Isn’t there a statue built to her in the town square?” Annie asked, reaching for her tour book.

      “Yes, but the story is exaggerated.” He was troubled. “Is that all American students learn about Kublenstein?”

      “Well…” She didn’t want to offend him, so she didn’t point out that it was very few students who even knew that much. “It’s a very small country.”

      That attitude always annoyed him, even though it was true. “Smaller than some, yes, but bigger than others.”

      “It’s more of an underrated place than small, I think,” Annie amended. “The only time I can remember any mention of Kublenstein at all was in a history class, and that was just a passing reference that had something to do with Switzerland’s neutrality. But I think it is a charming place.”

      “Charming,” he repeated, rolling the word out as if to decide whether he liked it or not.

      She pressed her lips together then looked at him seriously. “Oh, yes. Charm means a lot to me. I don’t visit a place because of how far apart the borders are, I go for what’s inside.”

      He looked at her with interest. “And what do you think you’ll find inside Kublenstein?” He’d only known her briefly, but he already knew enough to realize such a question could be dangerous when posed to such an honest young woman.

      She gave a wry laugh. “I really don’t know. But other places in Europe are bound to be loaded with tourists. Like Paris. I was just there and it was mobbed. But take a place like Lassberg, that you don’t hear much about, and you probably can have the place to yourself.”

      He