The Simply Scandalous Princess. Michele Dunaway
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my role as an adviser to the king.”
“So you just do what Easton tells you,” Lucia returned, her tone a bit harsh.
Harrison blinked, as if surprised by her sudden change of attitude. “I do not understand what you are insinuating, Princess. I do my job.”
For one second Lucia wondered why it mattered to her, why she was pursuing this line of conversation. But she knew. It was because of sleepless nights he’d caused her. Because of the erotic dreams she’d had. Because of the feeling of loneliness that had vanished when she’d touched him at the wedding reception. Because of a desire…
She brushed those thoughts aside. She would make him see. “Your job. Do you ever think of more than your job?”
“I think of my duty to the throne.”
She wasn’t reaching him. “What about passion? What about love?”
Harrison’s chin came forward, indicating his stubbornness. “My duty comes first.”
“So you’ve shut off those emotions,” Lucia challenged. She wondered why she suddenly felt so determined, so forceful in her questioning. She mentally cursed herself. She knew why.
“Those emotions have no place in rational judgments,” he said.
“So passion and love are bad things.”
“Passion can get people pregnant at seventeen,” Harrison retorted. “Love does not last, and can compromise duty.”
“Which you know from personal experience.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. It is not one of the better moments in my life.”
Lucia nodded, satisfied. Now she was getting somewhere. She’d been right. Harrison Montcalm had buried the passion and fire that still existed in him. Someone—she—just had to dig deep to free it and get it out.
“You don’t mind, Harrison, if I question you. After all, if I’m named queen, you’ve told me you will be my adviser.”
“I would,” Harrison answered stoically.
“Ah yes, because it would be your duty.” Lucia reached forward and refilled her water glass from the crystal pitcher sitting on the table. “Do you ever think of yourself first?”
“No.” The pen made a clicking sound as Harrison set it on the table.
“Why not?”
“Because my duty is to serve others,” he replied. “Look, excuse me, Princess, but we are getting off track here.”
“Call me Lucia, please, Harrison.”
“It’s not proper.”
“I don’t care.” Lucia smiled, giving him another infuriating smile that she knew was driving Harrison crazy. “My name is Lucia and when we are alone I want you to use it. Consider it an order if that will make your sense of duty feel better.”
“Yes, Prin—Lucia.”
“Thank you.” Lucia nodded her head. “Being friends will help this process go so much smoother, Harrison.”
“Our role doesn’t involve friendship, Princess.”
“Lucia.”
“Lucia.” His tone indicated his frustration with the entire situation.
She nodded her approval at his use of her name. “You may not like it, Harrison, but you and I should be friends. When I move to Korosol I’ll be leaving everything behind. All my friends, my family, everything I’ve held dear my entire twenty-six years. You’ll be one of the only people I’ll know. Therefore, we need to be friends.”
“That does sound logical,” Harrison conceded, and Lucia smiled. She was wearing him down. If nothing else, she was tenacious. She’d finally won her freedom from her mother—the freedom to live her life away from DeLacey Shipping. If she could do that, she could do anything—including making Harrison see things her way.
“Good.” She paused as an idea took hold. “You understand that this means we need to get to know each other as friends. Besides, it will fit in with your investigation as to my suitability for the throne. So, since you want to find out the truth about me, I suggest you spend the weekend with me and judge me for yourself.”
“It is not my role to judge,” he returned to that argument.
Lucia took a sip of water. “Ah, but you must make a report to my grandfather. Thus, if you want to really know everything there is to know about me, you need to spend time with me.”
“I don’t believe that this is necessarily a good idea.”
“Why not?”
As Lucia threw the challenge back into his face, Harrison asked himself the same question. Why not? The answer was simple. Lucia Carradigne was as off-limits as a nuclear reactor. Despite his attraction to her, today he’d managed to control himself and handle himself with the utmost decorum. For his own sanity and security, he needed to stay away from her.
Already he’d slipped up. Just by being with her he had somewhere along the line lost control of the interview. But it had a positive result. Because of it, he’d seen the real Lucia. And he liked her. A lot.
Lucia. He said her name mentally, rolling it silently over his tongue. He could imagine calling her by her name during lovemaking.
He shook his head, clearing it of that off-limits mental picture. Lucia may be a touch of heaven, but his job did not include holding it, or touching it, or tasting it. Just because she was the first woman to make him feel alive in years, that didn’t mean he had to act on it. He’d made a career of doing the right thing, acting the correct way. As soon as King Easton was satisfied with her credentials, Lucia Carradigne would be heir to the Korosol throne.
Retired generals didn’t marry princesses, or much less even become their friends. It just wasn’t done. Especially not retired generals his age with his baggage.
“Well?” Lucia’s voice cut through his disturbing thoughts. “I assume you’re deciding if you’re going to hang out with me this weekend?”
Hang out? Harrison hadn’t heard that word used in his military circle in years. With free time a premium, he never simply “hung out.” Inwardly he groaned. Lucia’s words showed how young she really was, but also how much the idea of simply “hanging out” with her appealed to him.
But he couldn’t let her know.
“I see that I have little choice in the matter,” he replied.
Lucia gave him a seductive smile. “We always have choices, Harrison. I’d just like to think that you made the correct one.”
“Time will tell.” He managed not to let her know just how much her smile, and her words, had affected him.
“Yes, it will,” she said. She glanced at her watch. How time had flown! “Speaking of the time, I didn’t realize how late it is. I’m meeting my mother and King Easton for dinner. I need to leave or I’ll be late for that, too.”
Lucia rose to her feet. “May I please have a piece of your paper?”
Harrison stood, removed his notes and handed her the leather folder and the Cross pen. Lucia took it and wrote quickly.
“Here are the directions. Meet me there at ten. Casual attire.” She looked over his business suit. “Definitely not what you have on.”
Harrison’s eyebrows shot up.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with your suit,” Lucia reassured him quickly. “You look, well, very nice,” she finished awkwardly.
He looked fabulous, debonair and extremely handsome, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Although she was usually very forward and proud of it, something about