His Princess in the Making (3 page)

Oh, how she loved and hated the warm, shivering excitement that streaked through her at the intimacy. Hated the sense of cheated unfairness that, of all the men in the world, only her dearest friend made her feel as if she was melting inside with a simple whisper.

Stop it. He’s your best friend, almost a brother. You’re a woman now, and a princess. You’re practically engaged—to a rich, handsome, kind…stranger.

“Does your silence indicate that you’re too grand these days to enter a kitchen to make me moussaka, Giulia?”

It took a mammoth effort to grin up at Toby as if nothing was wrong, but she’d been practising the skill for years, and she had the hang of it now. “No, the kitchen’s too grand for me. You should see the one here. I went in one night, took one look and bolted back to my rooms.”

His eyes twinkled. “You require my reassuring and close-to-massive presence to terminate the feeling of smallness in the royal scale of size, my Giulia?”

She choked on laughter. “You’ve got to know how much I’ve missed you, when hearing your crazy vocabulary makes me feel so happy.”

He grinned, unperturbed by the teasing. “It all feels a little surreal to you still? I gather my presence makes things more real for you?”

Her eyes drank him in, her oasis in this sumptuous desert called royal life. “Nothing’s right without you—or Puck,” she added, to keep things light, holding tight to the mutt who rarely slowed down long enough for cuddles of this kind.

“Is that so?” Toby’s grin seemed deliberately light, as if he was testing her. “You would appreciate my presence and blessing on your upcoming nuptials to the Grand Duke, Your Highness?”

She shivered. “Don’t call me that,” she whispered, resisting the urge to bury her face in his shoulder; instead she looked away. “I’m not her, I’m not that person…not with you. And—and Max…I…”

After a brief hesitation, he asked softly, “You don’t like the Grand Duke?”

She saw Charlie’s hand gripping his shoulder, and knew he wanted to know her answer too. They all wanted to know—the King, Jazmine, Charlie, her minders and diplomatic staff—not to mention the world press. Max was the only one who seemed willing to wait.

Well, they’d all have to wait. She had enough changes to deal with, just getting used to being called Your Highness, learning new duties and languages, and how to speak to strangers of varying importance with grace instead of blushing and wanting to hide. In being Hellenia’s new princess, she finally felt as if she was in a position to help others, but she’d spent a quiet, almost invisible life until now. She didn’t know how she’d accustom herself to being important to anyone, always being followed around, having black-suited, armed professionals watching her every move.

When it came to dissecting her emotions, she’d always felt like a fish on the end of a line, floundering about with no result. In all her life, it had seemed she could never have the few things she wanted, and could always have what she didn’t want.

Max was the perfect, handsome, kind point in question.

“I do like Max. Of course I do,” she said quietly. “He’s lovely and kind, and understanding—handsome too.” She flashed Toby a quirky grin. “He’s the standard fairy-tale prince…well, duke. I do like him—everybody likes Max—but…” She stopped when she heard the stilted tone in her voice.

She’d long ago accepted that she was the kind of woman who cooked and cleaned and looked after others, not the kind
men fell for—but it didn’t stop the useless wishing. Why couldn’t just
one
man look at her, really see her, and find her pretty—and to mean it, to
want
her?

And Max—didn’t. In the month he’d become a friend, a willing listener and shoulder when this life overwhelmed her. It was brother-to-sister caring—again.

How could she tell Toby how humiliating it felt never to know how it felt to have a man want her? Especially when
he’d
been the man she’d wanted for so long, and he knew it. It could only fill him with embarrassment and guilt, when he’d never wanted her either.

The flashes of the cameras at the gates were still going a mile a second—and after looking over there Charlie’s hand fell from Toby’s shoulder. “I think it’s time you went inside to meet the new rellies.” There was dry humour in his tone.

“Including the little woman,” Toby joked back, with a grin. Despite the endless stress of the past weeks, Lia wanted to smile. Toby always opened the door to Charlie’s reluctant emotions with laughter, giving him time to gather his thoughts before he spoke.

“Little, but she makes an impact,” Charlie shot back dryly, the grin diluted by the lifted brow. He turned toward the palace, his arm slung casually around Toby’s shoulders. She held onto him from the other side.

It felt unbreakable: the Three Musketeers going into battle.

Four Musketeers, including Puck. The image of her tousled, yapping pet as D’Artagnan made her chuckle.

He didn’t ask why she laughed. He knew she’d tell him.

She turned to Toby, biting a corner of her lip, filled with delicious laughter. “I wonder how the King’s going to react to my dog in the palace.”

“Vesuvius or Etna?” His tone was dry. “I’ve been informed His Majesty is somewhat of a hothead.”

“Just a bit,” Charlie answered, with a world of dryness in his voice.

“He’s used to getting his way, that’s for sure. And when he doesn’t…” Lia shuddered. “With Theo Angelis and Puck in one room, I have a feeling the explosion will be more like Krakatoa.”

O
F COURSE
, taking the dumb mutt out of the travelling cage ended in disaster.

Puck woke up just as Toby was connecting quite nicely with the bed-ridden old monarch. Puck squirmed out of Giulia’s arms—
the stupid dog didn’t know his luck resting against her beautiful breasts; if she ever let him that close he’d never move again
—and raced around the invalid’s room, marking his territory with excited yelps.

Not the best introduction to the last member of the Costa family.

While servants flooded the place and everyone ran around after the dog—trying to stop the million-and-one leg-liftings Puck had to perform every time he was somewhere new—the King, the only one seemingly unperturbed by the canine antics, tipped his fingers in silent beckoning to Toby.

Toby crossed the room, knowing what was coming.

“Make no mistake, boy. You’re here to talk them both into staying—to doing their duty to their country—and after the weddings you go back to where you belong,” the King muttered.

While Toby wasn’t about to rouse the fears of an old man recovering from a heart attack, no matter how minor, he couldn’t lie either. “I came to help, sire—but I belong with Charlie and Giulia, no matter where they are. We’re family, sire.”

The simple statement of fact created his first enemy in the palace.

His own stupidity created the second.

When he met Princess Jazmine and the Grand Duke, he kept his attention on them. If his heart sank at the suave, handsome, friendly perfection that was Giulia’s “lovely” Max, he kept it to himself. He was too aware that the King was watching his every interaction with Giulia like a hawk.

In a month, everything had changed. The old king, sick and in the twilight days of his rule, still held the power over whether he stayed or was bundled back on that jet—and Charlie and Giulia needed him here.

Yet, despite her earlier joy at his arrival, Giulia seemed too quiet. She was looking at her feet, avoiding everyone’s eyes. In spite of her perfect appearance, something was wrong inside her—and yes, as he’d feared, she
had
lost weight. The lovely ripe curves he loved so much were too slender for a woman of five-foot-ten. Her skin was paler than he liked, and her eyes didn’t have the fresh sparkle she always had when she’d been out in the sun, communing with nature—another of her stress releases, along with cooking and reading.

He’d have to get her out there again. That was, if he could get rid of all the black-suited minders, cameras and royal watchers. If he could allay the old man’s suspicions and gain his trust.

It wasn’t going to happen. Sick and fighting for the good of his people, the King had seen straight through all Toby’s defences that had been in place for a decade.
The King knew how he felt about Giulia.
The only person who knew his secret was the only enemy he’d ever made in his life, and the most powerful man in the country.

So he might as well be honest. Any chance to get her alone, and let her tell him what was going on with her.

“Giulia, my beloved, to put it without any overkill, even jet food sucks. I’ve missed both you and your cooking like
hell the past weeks. Therefore, I opine, it’s way past the time when we disappear to discover the royal kitchens and make some of your unbelievably delicious moussaka, and those decadent mud muffins the way only you can make them…and we can talk.”

Why did she take so long to look up? But when she did he lost his breath. For a moment, a bare second, as she lifted her gaze to his the look he’d hungered to see for a decade was there. The chocolate-dark, slumberous eyes held
desire.

Then it vanished as if it had never been, leaving him wondering if it was jet lag, their long separation or the same useless wishing he’d known for so long.

But if he’d imagined it, so had Charlie and the King. Charlie’s eyes were glazed with shock—and the look the old man gave Toby was even harder, more calculating. “I think it’s time we allowed these three to catch up.” The unspoken words hovered between king and commoner:
the sooner you help them decide, the sooner you go.

As if in harmony with the King’s silent declaration of war, Jazmine and Max both nodded. “We’ll leave you,” Max said, with a smile aimed at Giulia alone.

“No, we’ll go to my room.” Giulia sounded off-kilter. “No cameras.”

“That wouldn’t be appropriate for a princess, my dear,” the King said, gently but with finality. “Even such an
old friend
as Toby cannot enter your room.”

Watching closely, Toby saw her nostrils flare a little, her lush mouth tighten, but she nodded, a short, jerking movement of her head.

“I’ll make sure the cameras are turned off in the tea room, and nobody will be at the balconies,” Jazmine said quietly. “They can wait at the base of the stairs.”

The King nodded, looking exhausted. “Well thought of, my dear.” He waved them all out.

A minute later they’d entered some kind of sumptuous, gold-painted tea room, with antique furniture, and mirrors and paintings on the walls. It was beautiful but, to his mind, overdone. It screamed its importance unnecessarily. Whoever had commissioned this place had had a real ego problem.

After they’d made certain the cameras were turned off and the security detail was away from the outside doors, the Grand Duke—“call me Max”—said to Princess Jazmine, “I think it’s time we leave them alone to talk.” These Mediterranean women really had the most beautiful names.

Though it had been the right thing to say, the way he smiled at Giulia set Toby’s teeth on edge. He spoke as if he knew Giulia, knew what she’d want and that he could give it to her. He smiled at her as if they were
close.

What made it worse was the way Giulia smiled back.

Was it a friendly smile, or did it hold more? After a month, she’d given this man her trust, her friendship, and—no,
no
—her heart? Had she accepted the royal engagement after knowing the guy a few weeks, when he’d waited for her for ten long, agonising years?

A red haze clouded his vision. All the reasons for his silence vanished from his jet-lagged brain. For the first time in ten years he lost control, acting on impulse, obsession, years of love. “Wait.”

Jazmine and Max turned back.

“Are the rumours true about the royal marriages for you—all four of you?” He stared hard at Max.

Taken aback by the directness of the attack, Max nodded. “It’s the way things are done here. Though he’s giving us all time, the King can enforce it by law if he feels it’s in the best interests of the country.”

“Then you need to know the true reason I’m here, besides advising my friends on what is best—not just for Hellenia, but for them.”

And with that he snatched Giulia into his arms, bent her over his arm and kissed her…kissed her as he’d ached to do, body and soul, for a third of his life.

For the rest of his days he’d recall the feel of Giulia’s lovely, supple dancer’s body as he pulled her against him; the soft, full lips beneath his as he kissed her. Thank God—thank God—her hand fluttered up into his hair, she moulded herself against him and kissed him back for a brief, beautiful moment.

The gasps of everyone in the room awoke him to what he’d done.

Idiot!
After ten years of patient waiting, he’d lost it in a moment. He’d kissed his intensely private Giulia in front of an audience.

But she’d kissed him back.
She’d kissed him.

So he might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. He met the Grand Duke’s eyes without flinching or fear. “Whatever Charlie decides, I’ll be doing my dead-level best to make Giulia choose to come home—with me. To become an ordinary firefighter’s wife instead of making an arranged alliance with you for the sake of power and wealth.” He stared at each of them in turn, keeping Giulia in the curve of his arm, loving the feel of her there, where she belonged. “Nobody knows how to care for her and cherish her as I do. She’s mine.”

Then, without a breath, he turned to her. It was Giulia’s cue.

And the shock in her lovely eyes matched the stunned betrayal in her husky voice as she cried, “Toby, how
could
you?”

She tore herself from his arms and bolted from the room before he could react.

“Do you want company, Lia?”

From her favoured hidey-hole in the library—snuggling in corners with books had been her escape for years when the world felt out of control—Lia looked up with a smile at the woman who’d become a friend, a sister, within hours of
meeting. “If it’s you, Jazz.” She patted the big, fat, curl-up-in-me leather reading-chair beside hers.

Jazmine kicked off her shoes and curled up with a sigh. “I love this room. I always have. What’s that you’re reading?”

Because Jazmine didn’t pry, Lia wanted to tell her. “What’s wrong with me? Why does everyone treat me like a child in need of protection?”

Jazmine’s brows lifted, and Lia laughed, feeling weirdly relieved that her friend chose to laugh at her rather than cover for her. “Okay, everyone but you.”

Jazmine shrugged. “I think it’s a man thing. Men like to believe they’re in control, and they hate change.”

“Oh, right,” Lia mocked, the fury back. “That explains what he did? He might have been in control, but it was a change from his normal behaviour all right.”

Jazmine grinned. “You seemed to like it, from what I could see.”

“All right, so I liked it,” she snapped, surprising even herself with the need to blurt it all out. “I’m almost twenty-seven years old and today was the first time a man kissed me! I wanted to be a woman for once. What’s so wrong with that?”

Jazmine gaped—literally. “You’ve never been kissed before today?”

Her blush grew deeper. “Do you mind? It was humiliating enough to say once.”

“Of course it was. I’m sorry, Lia.” Jazmine leaned over and hugged her. “But you’re so beautiful. Men should be lining up to kiss you.”

The words resonated in her soul.
Beautiful…
Someone outside the direct family had actually said it to her:
You’re so beautiful.

For years she’d felt abnormal. She’d never even been asked on a date in her life. Sometimes she thought a man seemed interested—one or two had asked for her number—but when
nothing had come of it she’d felt confused and ashamed, wondering what was wrong with her.

Even now, with a title and fifty-million euros, Theo Angelis had to arrange her marriage because she couldn’t find a man of her own. Though he’d arranged Charlie and Jazmine’s marriage, it was obvious by the way they could barely keep their eyes and hands off each other that their marriage would be…normal. But while she’d been willing to think about marrying Max at first, she’d soon realised that he was like every other man she knew: he saw her as a friend, a sister, someone to be
kind
to, to protect.

“Well, they’re not,” she answered Jazmine, curt and cold, but she couldn’t help it. “I’m twenty-six years old, and no man has ever touched me.”

“Until today,” Jazmine replied softly, with meaning.

Without warning, Lia felt choking tears rush to her eyes. She’d acted like the sixteen-year-old with a hopeless crush on her best friend she’d once been, instead of the princess she must be. She’d had her dream for a moment, and she’d paid for it. With his next words, the dream had quietly fallen in splintered fragments at her feet.

No one knows how to care for her and cherish her as I do.

It was all about the past. Her best friend wanted to look after her.

“Yes,” she agreed, with a bitterness she couldn’t hide. “Until today.”

Jazmine stared at her, and seemed about to say something. Then the door opened, and Lady Eleni came in, looking unusually harried. “Princess Jazmine! Princess Giulia!”

They jumped out of their chairs and strode round the bookshelf that hid them from view. “Yes, Eleni, what is it?” Jazmine asked, cool and in control.

Lia wished she had the knack of that.

“You’re wanted in the press room, Your Highnesses,” Lady Eleni said in a rush. “Lord Orakis is causing more trouble
while the King is ill. The King wishes you both to handle this before the news reaches Prince Kyriacos.”

“Of course, we’ll come now.” Jazmine took Lia’s hand and they headed down together—but they both knew the time had come. They knew what Orakis wanted: power. And with his growing base of support he knew he could gain it legitimately through marriage to a princess.

And with Charlie here to marry Jazmine, there was only one single princess left.

That night

Lia headed down the wide hall to the library, desperately needing some time out.

She rubbed her forehead as she opened the door to the library, finally allowing the stress headache to take control. First Toby’s bombshell kiss, then the press conference from hell, and then she’d sat through a dinner so awkward it had seemed none of them could stomach their food. Could this day become any worse?

“Giulia.”

Toby’s voice came from her favourite chair. She sighed, but kept walking. This had to come; it might as well complete the crazy day this had been. “You found my cubby hole.” She came round the bookshelf to him.

Toby smiled at her, but it was dark, strained. “The task was far from arduous when we’ve lived together fourteen years. You cook, run, dance or read when you’re stressed.” He held out the book she’d left on the reading table. “I see some things haven’t changed. You always loved your historical romances.” He patted the chair beside him.

She found herself smiling as she sat. “What girl doesn’t? We all dream of happy endings, a prince on—” She skidded to an awkward halt.

His laugh wasn’t the shared, chummy thing it had always been; it held an edge of hardness, blackness. “Well, it seems some of us will have our dreams, doesn’t it, Your Highness? And some of us will return home.”