Not-So-Perfect Princess: Not-So-Perfect Princess. Melissa McClone
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rotors.
Almost there.
A combination of excitement and nerves made Jules want to tap her toes and twist the ends of her hair with her finger. She kept her hands clasped on her lap instead. She wanted to make her family and country proud. Her mother, God rest her soul, too. Presenting the image of a princess completely in control was important, even if doing so wasn’t always easy.
She glanced out the window. Below, on the water, a Sun Fast 3200 with a colorful spinnaker caught her eye. She pressed her forehead against the window to get a better look at the sailboat.
Gorgeous.
The crew sat on the rail, their legs dangling over the side. The hull planed across the waves.
Longing made it difficult to breath.
What she wouldn’t give to be on that boat sailing away from the island instead of flying toward the stranger who would be her husband and the father of her children … But she shouldn’t wish that. Jules had a responsibility, a duty, the same that had been thrust upon her mother so many years ago. Marrying Prince Enrique had to be better than being stuck in patriarchal Aliestle for the rest of her life. At least, she hoped so. If not …
Jules grimaced.
“You okay?” Brandt’s voice asked through her headset.
She shrugged. “I think I’m cursed. When my godparents offered gifts at my christening, one of them must have cursed me to a life of duty with no reward. A loveless arranged marriage.”
And an unfulfilled yearning for adventure and freedom.
“Look out the window,” Brandt said. “You’re not cursed, Jules. You’re going to be living on a vacation paradise.”
Crescents of postcard-worthy white sand beaches came into view. Palm trees seemed to stand at attention, except for the few arching toward the ground. The beach gave way to a town. Pastel-colored, tiled roofed buildings and narrow streets dotted the hillsides above the village center.
She glimpsed rows of sailboats moored at a marina. The masts, tall and shiny, rocked starboard and port like metronomes. Her mouth went dry.
Perhaps cursed was the wrong word. All these sailboats had to be a good sign, right? “Maybe life will be different here.”
“It will.” Brandt smiled, the same charming smile she’d seen on a cover of a tabloid at the airport in Spain. “Your fiancé will be unable to resist your beauty and intelligence. He’ll fall head over heels in love with you and allow you to do whatever you wish. Including sailing on the ocean.”
She wiggled her toes in anticipation. “I hope that’s true.”
“Believe,” he encouraged. “That’s what you always tell me.”
Yes, she did. But this situation was different. Jules knew nothing about Prince Enrique. She’d been so busy preparing for her departure she hadn’t had time to look him up on the internet. Not that she had a choice in marrying him even if he turned out to be an ogre.
For all she knew he was old with one foot in the grave. Okay, now she was overreacting. Her father had always matched her with younger men because he wanted grandchildren. This match shouldn’t be any different.
Jules hoped Enrique was charming, handsome and would sweep her off her feet. She wanted to find him attractive and be able to love him. She also wanted his heart to be free and open to loving her in return.
Her concern ratcheted. Prince Richard and Prince Niko had been in love with other women. If Enrique’s affections were attached to a girlfriend or mistress that wouldn’t bode well for their match reaching the altar or, if it did, love developing between them.
Jules shifted in her seat. “I do hope this island has up-to-date ideas about women.”
“It has to be more contemporary. Aliestle has been asleep since the Middle Ages.” Brandt cupped one side of his headset with his hand. “Listen, I hear Father snoring now. The tyrant could wake the dead.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Jules’s mouth. “Too bad we can’t wake him.”
“Along with the entire Council of Elders.”
Nodding, she stared at her brother who was more known as a playboy crown prince than a burgeoning politician and ruler. “When you’re king, you’ll change the way things are done.”
Brandt shrugged. “Being king will be too much work.”
“You’ll rise to the occasion,” she encouraged.
He gave her a look. “You really think so?”
“Yes.” Her gaze locked with his, willing him to remember their previous discussions and their plan. Okay, her plan. “You will bring our country into the twenty-first century. If not for our younger brothers and subjects, then for your children and theirs. Especially the daughters.”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. And I’ll help.” The bane of his existence was being crown prince. Brandt wanted all the perks that went with being royalty without any of the responsibility. One of these days he was going to have to grow up. “Once I marry someone outside of Aliestle, Father’s reign over me ends. I’ll be able to represent our country to the world and gain support to help you enact reforms when you are king, even if the Council of Elders is against them. We must change Aliestle for the better, Brandt.”
He didn’t say anything. She didn’t expect him to.
“We are approaching the palace,” the pilot announced over the headsets.
Goose bumps prickled Jules’s skin.
Full of curiosity at her new home, she peered out the window. A huge white stucco and orange-tile roofed palace perched above the sea. The multistoried building had numerous balconies and windows.
But no tower. Another good sign?
A paved road and narrower walking paths wove their way through a landscape of palm trees, flowering bushes and manicured greenery. Water shot at least twenty-five feet into the air from an ornately decorated fountain.
The Mediterranean island and palace were a world away from Aliestle and the stone castle fortress nestled high in the Alps. Living somewhere lighter and brighter would be a welcome change from the Grimm-like fairy-tale setting she called home.
“Father may have finally gotten this right,” Brandt said.
Jules nodded. “It’s pretty.”
“At least on the outside.”
She sighed. “Don’t forget, dear brother, you’re here for moral support.”
“And to make sure the honeymoon doesn’t start early,” Brandt joked.
As if she’d ever had that opportunity present itself. She glared at him. “Be quiet.”
“Sore spot, huh?”
He had no idea. Engaged three times, and she’d never come close to anything other than kisses. Besides making out with Christian while a teenager, she’d been kissed once as an adult. Prince Niko’s kiss while sailing had been pleasant enough, but nothing like the passion she’d overheard other women discussing. Perhaps with Prince Enrique …
The helicopter landed on a helipad. The engine stopped. The rotor’s rotation slowed. Her hand trembled, making her work harder to unbuckle her harness. Finally she undid the latch. As they exited, a uniformed staff member placed their luggage onto a wheeled cart.
“Welcome to La Isla de la Aurora, Your Royal Highness Crown Prince Brandt and Your Royal Highness Princess Julianna.” An older man in a gray suit bowed. “I am Ortiz. Prince Enrique sends his regrets for not meeting you himself, but he is attending to important state business at the moment.”
“We