The Princess's Proposal. Valerie Parv
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had asked to meet her. But she told her brother she had no intention of sharing her hard-won expertise with the stranger so he could enjoy all the benefits.
Michel had thought her response petty. He was probably right but she didn’t care. Now Hugh Jordan had finagled his way into her charity dinner, anyway. His donation to the appeal was so substantial that there was no way she could avoid meeting him tonight.
“I’ll bet Hugh Jordan smokes cigars and only talks about price movements on the stock exchange. And he’s probably this big,” Cindy said.
As her assistant pantomimed a huge girth, Adrienne was forced to laugh. “And no matter how stuffy or boring he is, you’ll charm him into giving an even larger donation to your beloved children,” Cindy added more seriously.
Adrienne let her eyes flash acceptance of the challenge. “I’ll consider it a personal obligation.”
Cindy dealt with the rest of the details in her usual efficient way, then closed the file. “That’s everything you need to know for now.” Adrienne stood up and felt herself sway slightly. Cindy looked concerned. “Are you all right? Perhaps you overdid things by going out this afternoon.”
Adrienne heard the disapproval in Cindy’s voice. Her assistant made no secret of disliking her employer’s habit of going out incognito, even though she had lent the princess her own car for the purpose.
“I’m fine. I probably just need to eat something before I go down.”
“I’ll have a tray sent up right away.”
She was as good as her word, but Adrienne couldn’t bring herself to eat much before she made her entrance into the ballroom. She took her place at the head of the room as the orchestra played the Carramer national anthem, “From Sea to Stars.” No matter how many times she heard it the music still stirred her blood.
As her experienced staff organized a receiving line, Cindy moved to Adrienne’s side ready to discreetly prompt the princess with any names and personal details she might need. She wasn’t needed a great deal. Adrienne considered herself lucky in having a good memory, and now she greeted each person by name, asking after their partners, children and any other concerns that came to mind.
Then she felt herself go cold from head to foot.
“Mr. Hugh Jordan, rancher from San Francisco,” Cindy murmured, thinking Adrienne’s hesitation meant she needed help identifying the next guest.
“Your Highness, this is indeed a surprise,” the man said, his rich, deep voice laced with irony. From the glitter in his remarkable blue eyes, Adrienne gathered that the surprise wasn’t any more pleasant for him than it was for her.
Far from being the paunchy, stuffy businessman she and Cindy had envisioned, Hugh Jordan was tall, muscular and undeniably good-looking. Even in the relative anonymity of a tuxedo, she recognized him instantly. Mr. Hugh Jordan, rancher from San Francisco, was the man who had come to her rescue at the fair.
Like the other guests he touched her hand in a token handshake, but instead of releasing her immediately as protocol required, his strong fingers curled into her palm and a shiver ran through her. “Small world, isn’t it,” he said softly.
Only years of royal training enabled her to keep a bright smile on her face, although her features felt as if they might crack at any moment. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jordan.” Her heart was beating so rapidly that she felt lightheaded, but not by so much as a flicker of an eyelash did she let herself acknowledge their previous meeting.
For a fleeting moment a shadow of a doubt crossed his face, and she saw him mentally comparing the princess in front of him with the woman he’d encountered earlier. In her designer gown with her hair expertly dressed and a fortune in diamonds and emeralds adorning her head, neck and earlobes, she knew she looked very different from the woman he’d met earlier. Could she convince him it was a case of mistaken identity?
Then he returned his gaze to her face and his eyes hardened. She felt her heart sink. Convincing a man like Hugh Jordan that he was wrong wasn’t an option, she saw.
“The pleasure is mine, Your Highness,” he said in a tone so smooth and hard it reminded her of volcanic glass. “I look forward to spending some time later this evening discussing our…mutual interests.”
Before she could summon her voice to reply, he released her hand and moved on, forcing her to deal with the next guest and giving her no time to collect herself. Only part of her mind was on her duty, she found. What did he mean—discuss their mutual interests? He had come to Carramer to negotiate setting up a ranch on Nuee, the ranch she herself had wanted to establish. If the American thought he could take advantage of their earlier encounter to involve her in his project against her will, he was in for a disappointment.
The idea was so distasteful that she rejected it instinctively. She recognized an element of wishful thinking in the hope that he wasn’t the type to do such a thing. Just because he had come to her rescue didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t use it to get something he wanted. Her position made her an ideal target, she knew.
Hugh Jordan had stumbled on a secret known only to her immediate staff. How would he use the information? The question nagged at her all through the ritual of predinner drinks. Usually she enjoyed circulating among her guests, showing her appreciation for their generous support of the children’s charity. Tonight she was so agitated that Cindy put a hand on her arm and steered her aside.
“Are you feeling all right, Your Highness?”
“What makes you ask?”
“You’re on your second glass of champagne already. That isn’t like you at all, especially when you’ve eaten so little.”
Adrienne looked at the goblet in her hand, surprised to find it almost drained. She had drunk it without being conscious of it. Cindy was right. Usually she restricted herself to mineral water before meals and a single glass of wine at dinner. “Thanks for noticing. I guess I’m a little distracted tonight.” Shaken, she handed the glass to Cindy.
Her assistant set it aside. “You looked a bit shell-shocked when I introduced Hugh Jordan. Do you know him?”
“Tonight was the first time we’ve been introduced.”
Cindy accepted the literal truth without question. “Just as well, because as the appeal’s largest donor, he’s seated on your right at dinner. He’ll be coming to escort you in at any minute.”
Adrienne’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the man who captured her attention even across the considerable expanse of the ballroom. Again her heart started its uncomfortably fast beating at the sight of him. Wearing hand-tailored evening clothes, he managed to look more like one of the cold-eyed lawmen she’d seen in films about the American West. He was a head taller than most of the other male guests, and she saw him methodically scan the crowd until he located his quarry—her.
He started toward her like an aimed bullet, the crowd making way for him as if Hugh and not Adrienne had been royalty. She sensed his disapproval from a dozen feet away, and it cut through her like a knife. “Is there time to change the seating arrangements?” she asked Cindy in a low voice.
Cindy checked her watch. “We’re due to sit down in four minutes. I’d have to ask the kitchen staff to delay serving dinner while I reshuffle the seating.” She sounded frayed and Adrienne knew if anyone else had suggested it, her assistant would have told them what she thought in no uncertain terms.
“Don’t bother, then, everything will be fine,” she assured her assistant. It wasn’t fair to burden her with a problem Adrienne had to admit was of her own making. She lifted her head and fixed her best princess-smile to her face as the source of her tension reached her side. “Mr. Jordan, I’m told we’re to be dinner partners.”
He offered her his bent arm, and she was proud of hesitating only fractionally as she tucked her hand into it. “All things considered, you should call me Hugh,” he growled. “I already know the name you prefer