A Prince For Sophie (10 page)

Men were in the lists, engaging in swordplay, practicing with javelins, and aiming arrows at straw targets. A few participating were clearly tourists, but here staff performed for spectators. Sophie knew most of the knights were off-duty soldiers, but a few were history buffs that flocked here each year to spend their vacation as members of the Knights of the Citadel.

She could recite the history by rote. The first fortress was built by a Crusader, Etienne de la Croix, who made a fortification here overlooking the ocean, then fell in love with a local maiden and decided to make this land his home. In recognition of his service to the church, he was granted a large fiefdom. When the Templar knights were declared heretics on that first unlucky Friday the thirteenth, in October of thirteen hundred and seven, Etienne and his friends succeeded in maintaining not only their freedom, but also their land. It wasn’t, however, until a century later, through canny maneuverings and outright trickery that his descendants managed to have their kingdom recognized.

Sophie knew her nation’s history by heart; but until this moment she’d never understood how much fun seeing it come alive could be.

Captivated by the flashing blades and the clang of steel, she stepped up on the viewing platform to watch, marveling at the amount of strength the men and women needed to wield their weapons. Survival in those long ago days, she mused, demanded not just strength of character, but strength of body.

She recognized the knight in charge of the training, Robert
Montrefort
, a colonel in the Royal Boisdemerian Army. Aside from performing his regular duties, and stints served as a member of the Royal Honor Guard, he’d been Sophie’s official escort on a number of occasions.

As she watched, he called a halt to the training and turned to face her. Bowing deeply, he saluted her with his sword.

“All salute the Princess Royal!”

Those knights who were regular military copied Robert’s moves, and for one moment, unease and nerves threatened to overtake her. But there was such merriment in Robert’s eyes, she was able to easily defeat those two familiar sensations and respond with a graceful nod.

“I thank you, noble knights, for your fealty and homage. Please, do not let my presence interrupt your training.”

“With your permission, Your Highness.”

Sophie didn’t recognize the man. He’d left the ranks of those she knew to be hobbyists, and approached the viewing platform, stopping about ten feet away and bowing.

“Yes, Sir Knight?”

“Your Highness, I am Telford Gaynor. I traveled to your beautiful kingdom on a whim, for I’d heard that here, on this hallowed ground of a once-proud citadel, men of courage and heart could test their mettle and their strength. And I did not understand, until I arrived, the true reason for my pilgrimage from London Town. Now I must confess that guardian angels must have urged me to come, for I heard the words of the king’s proclamation and I knew in a heartbeat my true destiny. Your Highness, you are indeed a beauty to behold, as delicate and fine as any flower. It is my intention to not only join the competition, but to ultimately prevail, and win the grandest prize of all.”

It seemed to Sophie as if all other noise, all other activity had ceased. Telford Gaynor had the attention of the other knights, and the tourists around them. From his accent, and his formal way of speaking, she knew him to be British. Something about him struck a chord of familiarity. Yes, he was attractive—tall, broad shouldered, with hair the color of the purest honey, and eyes as blue as the ocean. She’d heard the volunteers who came here each year were dedicated to their role-playing, in the extreme. Telford Gaynor was obviously one of those. He’d given a very pretty speech, and seemed to lack no confidence. Tilting her head to one side, she decided to play along with his gambit.

“Sir Knight, your compliments are most appreciated, and I applaud your accomplishment in making such an arduous journey. What prize, pray tell, could inspire such fervor?”

His smile was intriguing, a combination of cheek and heat that actually sent a flutter through her belly. The sun chose that moment, she thought, to shine just a little more brightly, and on him alone. He took a half step forward before answering.

“Why, Princess Sophie Liana Maria de la Croix, that prize would be the one your father announced in his proclamation—your hand in marriage, of course.”

“What do you mean a typographical error? How could there be such a typographical error? I want to see the original proclamation. Now, if you please.”

Alex wondered who this agitated, demanding young woman before him could be. It certainly wasn’t the daughter he knew, for he had never seen Sophie so animated.

“You question our word?” Michael’s haughty tone conveyed his insult.

Alex shook his head. In all the years he’d raised his children, he’d
never
had to act in the role of referee. It looked as if that was about to change. Sitting back, he watched as Sophie turned on her older brother and jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger.

“I have just had a man inform me that he intends to win me as a prize at a tournament. As if I was some sort of a…a…cupid doll.”

“That’s kewpie doll,” Peter corrected as he entered Alex’s office.

Alex was pleased to see his security chief and soon-to-be son-in-law adopt a more relaxed pose in his presence. Peter made himself comfortable in one of the visitors’ chairs and focused on the disagreement taking place.

Sophie’s expression darkened even more. “Kewpie, cupid, it does not matter. What matters is that I was standing there in front of this Telford Gaynor person and I felt like a complete fool because I did not know what he was talking about. I want to see that proclamation.”

Peter’s low whistle coincided with Michael’s shocked “Telford Gaynor?”

Alex raised one eyebrow, intrigued. He quickly smoothed his expression when Sophie spun to face him, her frustration plain. Picking up his telephone, he asked his secretary to bring him the original document that he’d signed just the day before. Then he turned his attention back to Michael and Peter, pinning them both with a piercing stare.

“Who is this Telford Gaynor?” he asked.

Peter answered immediately, rattling off the information as easily as if he were reading from a dossier. “One of the British dotcom moguls who parlayed the fortune he made in the early days of the Internet into an enormous empire that spans the globe. It’s rumored that he will supplant Bill Gates in the Number One slot on the list of the wealthiest men in the world this year. The press has dubbed him the man with the Midas touch.”

“You know, little sister, you could do much worse than to land such a husband.”

Alex cringed as that bit of brotherly wisdom echoed in his large office. Even Peter winced, looking at Michael as if he’d suddenly realized Boisdemer’s Crown Prince might have been dropped on his head as an infant. And then Sophie did something that Alex had never seen her do before, something he’d have been willing to bet she would never do.

She screamed in frustration.

Georges, his secretary, chose that moment to come through the door. Giving Sophie a wide berth, he brought the folder he carried to Alex’s desk. No one said a word until the man had departed.

“Here,
ma belle
. See for yourself.”

He watched Sophie as she read, and when she looked up and asked, “How could
anyone
mistake ‘the Princess Royal’s Standard’ for ‘the Princess Royal’s hand’?”

“I do not know.”

“Actually, not just one someone. That original document was faxed to every major wire service in the world from this office. And every single one of them has made the same error.” Peter said. Then he smiled at Sophie. “See? We are trying to get to the bottom of this mix up.”

Sophie wasn’t impressed. “Who faxed it?” she asked.

“Justin did,” Michael replied.

“Oh. Justin doesn’t make mistakes.”

“The man has been beside himself since we learned of the error,” Alex said quietly. “He absolutely swears that this is the document he sent out. As you can see, his initials are in the upper right hand corner.”

“And yet, every wire service has confirmed the copy they received. I’ve even had a few of them scan and send them to me. And sure enough, it says ‘hand’ instead of ‘standard’ on every single one.”

“Wait a minute,” Sophie said, shooting a startled look at Peter. “Did you say
every
wire service?”

“Europe and the Americas,” he confirmed cheerfully. Then he flashed her a smile, showing Alex that he’d already become Sophie’s brother at heart. “I expect you’re going to be fending off a whole slew of suitors. I’ll even bet some of the offers are going to be worth considering.”

“Are you out of your mind? You must be. But then, so is Telford Gaynor. Surely to God, the two of you must be the only ones. Grown men in this day and age could not possibly believe for one minute—”Sophie waived her arms as she spoke, her voice rising with each word.

The high emotion was back, and Alex was glad to see it. But she was still his little girl, and fatherly instinct to soothe and protect kicked in.

“Sophie?” When she stopped her pacing and gave him her attention, he said, “Despite the fact that there will be a medieval tournament, these are
not
medieval times. Rest assured that your ‘hand’ is
not
going to be offered as a prize in the tournament. And I doubt very much that any of the entrants is going to toss you over the back of his horse and carry you off into the sunset.”

“That could not happen anyway,” Michael said cheerfully. “The tournament is to take place mid-morning.”

“Michael.” Alex had the devil’s own time not laughing.

“I’m sorry. Sophie, Papa is right. No one can claim you as their prize.”

Alex marveled as his daughter folded her arms over her chest and gave all three of them a very stern stare.

Hardly appeased, Sophie shook her head. “Then someone had better inform Monsieur Gaynor of that fact. He seemed the sort who would entirely enjoy doing just that.”

* * * *

For the first time in his life, Stephan wanted to punch something. He closed the door to his suite and surveyed the empty corridor. Working out in the gym hadn’t diminished his foul mood. Perhaps a walk in the garden, or down by the beach, would. Directing his steps toward the grand staircase, his thoughts returned to the source of his annoyance.

Since Saturday, all he and Sophie had been able to manage were quick kisses stolen at unexpected moments. Every plan they had made to get together had been thwarted, by one person or another. Oh, they’d seen each other every day. At meals. On tours that Michael had hastily arranged and Stephan’s parents had insisted he attend. Sophie had returned to her position at the orphanage yesterday, which limited the time they could scheme to meet.

Neither of them could understand, nor explain, their inability to stay awake long enough at night to manage a tryst. It was almost, Stephan thought whimsically, as if some supernatural force worked to keep them apart.

It was Wednesday, and Stephan had thought he’d be making arrangements to return home with his parents after Alex and Hannah’s wedding tomorrow night.

But he couldn’t return yet. He’d only tasted Sophie once, and he needed to love her again.

“That’s quite a frown you’re wearing there, Your Highness. Worried about the competition?”

Stephan turned, the mocking tone in Peter Jones’ voice briefly making him forget his annoyance. Until he replayed the man’s words through his mind and frowned in earnest.

“Competition?”

“You haven’t heard? That’s amazing, all things considered.”

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me?”

Peter seemed to think about it for a moment. “No, I think I’ll let Sophie do that. You know, I’m surprised that with your background, you haven’t made a visit to the Children’s Home before now.”

Stephan raised one eyebrow, fully aware that the imperious gesture would have no effect whatsoever on the security chief. Peter’s inference was clear, and Stephan couldn’t keep the slight edge out of his voice.

“You had
me
investigated?”

“You were going to be spending several days under the same roof with everyone in the world that I love. Bet your ass I had you investigated. Funny how the tabloids keep harping about your playboy ways, and no one mentions your degree in psychology, or the fact that you work with troubled children and teens at home.”

“Being characterized as a playboy is better press.” And usually the thought didn’t sting. Stephan shook his head, impatient with himself and these peculiar moods he’d been falling into lately.

“There’s a black Mercedes out in the circular drive with the keys in it. Leave now and you’d have time enough for a tour. And then, of course, you could steal her away for a private lunch. Since she’s in charge of the place, there’s no one to tell her she can’t take the rest of the day off.”

“No arrangements have been made for such a visit,” Stephan replied, wondering why he hadn’t thought to ask Michael to do exactly that.

“Hell, if you’re going to let
that
stop you, I have no sympathy for you at all.”

Stephan watched as Peter walked away, his tone of mild disgust prickling his conscience.

He knew where the Home for Children was, as it had been pointed out to him just the day before when Michael had taken him to the military college. Taking himself off without notice to drop in and pay the school, and the administrator, a visit would be an unexpected move.

Stephan smiled. If it was unexpected, chances were no one would stop him. Spinning on his heel, he headed out.

* * * *

She didn’t want him to know she was there.