Stolen Kiss From a Prince (14 page)

If only her thoughts were so easy to shut down.

She kept seeing the cold descend on Julian’s features as she threw his proposal back at him. She hadn’t seen that expression on his face since he accused her of telling Sammy his parents were missing.

He’d been mistaken about her then, and he was mistaken now if he believed she’d be happy in an emotionless marriage.

Loving Sammy wasn’t enough. Loving Julian wasn’t enough. She deserved to be loved, too.

Longing for home, she prayed Jean Claude’s claim was true and that the mortifying pictures taken of her three years ago were well and truly gone. Because more than anything, she wanted her life back.

“Ms. Vicente.” A calm voice spoke next to her.

Katrina opened her eyes to see a lovely woman in her forties smiling at her.

“We’re about to take off. Please buckle up.” She went over a few safety issues, advised the length of the flight then asked if Katrina needed anything.

She shook her head. The only thing she needed was out of her reach.

“I’ll check with you in flight,” the woman offered and disappeared.

After buckling her seat belt, Katrina adjusted the crystal lamp next to her and reached for a magazine in the cherrywood console, determined to keep her mind occupied with something, anything besides Julian.

She failed, of course. And her spirits were low as she disembarked in Barcelona, the closest international airport to Pasadonia. She’d been informed another helicopter was waiting to take her on the final leg of her journey.

When she reached the bottom of the jet steps and looked up to see where she went next, she spotted the dignified man with dark red hair tinged with silver at the temples. He stood tall and broad, shoulders squared, hands clasped in front of him.

Emotions welled up, lodging in her throat. She flew across the tarmac into the waiting man’s arms, felt them close protectively around her. And for that one moment in time everything was okay again.

“Daddy.”

*

“Dear, you’re going to have to call him sometime,” Princess Bernadette advised Katrina a week later.

“Must I?” Katrina sighed, her gaze following the antics of Bernadette’s twin boys as they pranced about the palace courtyard in the early-morning sun. Not even eight in the morning and Julian had called her twice. “He probably wants to know Sammy’s favorite cereal. He will sort it out without me.”

“Cereal?” Bernadette’s stepdaughter, Amanda, joined them on the stone benches. A year and a half ago Jean Claude, and the whole country, had been surprised to learn he had a full-grown daughter. “I’m leaving if you’re talking food.” The American rubbed her baby bulge. “My doctor lectured me on my weight yesterday so my breakfast consisted of yogurt this morning.”

“Pooh.” Bernadette waved off the doctor’s advice. “Those guidelines are based on an average woman’s weight. You are so slim you need the extra calories for the good of the baby.”

“You think so?” Amanda asked hopefully. “I don’t want to do anything to hurt my baby.”

“I agree with Bernadette.” Katrina added her support. She’d avoided Amanda because of her notoriety, but Katrina had grown fond of her in the past week. “You are all baby. We can go for a walk after supper if it makes you feel better.”

Amanda beamed. “It does. Thanks.”

“Yes, well, sorry to disappoint, but there’s no cereal. We’re talking about the fact Katrina needs to call Julian. He’s called her twice already this morning.”

“Through his admin,” Katrina clarified. “The man can’t even be bothered to dial his own phone.” That pretty much told her how he felt about her, which didn’t amount to much. His real reason for calling was probably to gloat over the fact no pictures from her past had appeared to haunt her. Thank the good Lord.

Of course the press made a whole thing of her leaving Kardana, speculating on the relationship between her and Prince Julian and whether their affair was over or if she’d be returning soon. At the same time they exploited her connection to Jean Claude.

“That is a little punk—” Amanda wrinkled her nose “—even if he is a busy man.”

“He would get more done if—”

He stopped fighting his own nature. Katrina barely kept from uttering the words. She bit her lip and shook her head at herself, angry because her first response to Amanda’s comment was in defense of Julian.

“—if he delegated more,” she finished lamely, which was also true. He might not deserve her loyalty, but she would not reveal private details she’d learned during intimate conversations.

She flushed a little under Amanda’s direct regard. “You’re not ready to talk to him yet,” she declared. “I remember how I felt when I learned Xavier was only spending time with me because he was under orders to keep me close. I felt used and betrayed. I wanted nothing to do with him.”

“Yes.” Katrina shuddered with a sigh. For the first time she felt someone understood what she was going through.

“Maman, Amanda,” Devin called, “look at me.” He did a somersault and landed on his back.

“Me too. Katrina, watch me.” Marco outdid his brother by doing two flips.

Katrina and the others smiled and clapped. The boys grinned and frolicked some more.

“It was obvious the two of you were very much in love,” Bernadette said. “Just as it is clear Katrina and Julian have something special between them.” She squeezed Katrina’s hand. “You so deserve to find happiness. Please talk to Julian.”

“I will think about it.” An easy promise to make as she thought of little else.

“I’m so happy to hear that,” Bernadette said. “I feel responsible, you know, for insisting you go to Kardana.”

“Do not.” Katrina pleaded. “I am not sorry I went–”

“Your Highness.” Bernadette’s assistant approached. “If I might have a word?”

The Princess stepped away with the woman, viewed something on the tablet she carried. Bernadette’s gaze lifted to meet Katrina’s. Bringing the tablet with her she handed Katrina the digital device.

“This is why Julian is calling.”

The screen was fixed on a tabloid site boasting a picture of Katrina and Jean Claude holding hands in the palace portico. The headline read:

KATRINA RETURNS TO PASADONIA.

IS SHE EXCHANGING ONE PRINCE FOR ANOTHER?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

K
ATRINA
STARED
AT
the shocking headline. She had accompanied the twins as they saw their father off to a meeting, and Jean Claude had grabbed her hand and drawn her outside to ask how she was settling back into the palace.

“Katrina, I’m so sorry,” Bernadette said. Behind her, Amanda ushered the boys inside with the help of the assistant.

“No.” Katrina shook her head. “I am sorry. I brought this to your family.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for the shameful behavior of the paparazzi.” Bernadette’s temper flared. “You have suffered so much, but you can’t give them power over you. Anyone who knows you will see it for the rubbish it is. For the rest, most people know these tabloids are more fiction than fact. Trying to fight them would only draw out the sensationalism.”

“I know, but I hate that you and Jean Claude are drawn into my drama.”

“Dear, if not you, it would be someone else. Jean Claude is the trifecta for the paparazzi. He’s a royal Prince, a world leader, a handsome celebrity. He will always be a prime target. As his goddaughter, that attention is extended to you.”

Katrina knew Bernadette spoke the truth. Coming out of the shadows meant dealing with the press.

Her mobile phone beeped indicating a text message. Meeting Bernadette’s gaze, Katrina reached for the phone. “Julian again.”

The text read:
ANSWER YOUR BLOODY MOBILE.

On cue the phone rang in her hand. This time she recognized Julian’s number. Bernadette squeezed her shoulder and walked away, giving Katrina privacy. Sliding her finger across the screen, she tried for casual. “Hello.”

“Katrina.” Relief and ire both infused the word. “I saw the tabloid this morning. Are you okay?”

“Thank you for your concern. I am fine.” And she would be.

“Bloody press can’t leave us alone. Why didn’t you take my call?” he demanded.

“You did not call.” She took pride in the steadiness of her voice. “Marta did.”

“You knew she called for me.”

“I have found I am not inclined to wait for you.” Oh, that felt good.

Silence sounded from the other end. “I do not care for this stubborn streak in you.”

“Just because I refuse to be your puppet does not make me stubborn,” Katrina protested.

“Woman, you are the embodiment of stubborn. And meddlesome, persistent, smart, giving, caring and sexy. I’ve missed you.” A huskiness added weight to his statement.

Oh, she’d missed him, as well. So much. But she couldn’t let the pain sway her. “How is Sammy?” she asked instead.

“Doing well. He likes Inga. He still asks after you. He wants to know if you’re ready to come home.”

She closed her eyes against the want. “I am home.”

*

Julian threw down his phone and stood to pace. He was an intelligent man. So why did he still allow her to distract him? Why couldn’t he concentrate?

A knock preceded his father’s entrance into his office.

“Son—” Lowell took a seat in the more comfortable conversation area, forcing Julian to go to him “—I’ve heard of the tabloid article. How is Katrina doing?”

“How should I know?” Julian played it cool. As he had done since she left, preferring to keep the fact he was slowly falling apart to himself.

“Because you phoned her up as soon as you saw it.” Lowell rode the chair as if it were his throne. He nodded to Julian to sit. “I assume you spoke with her. Unless you lacked the intelligence to call her directly and had your secretary do it. In that case, she probably rejected your ass.”

Julian ground his back teeth. He’d been in meetings, damn it. Which he would have happily have left to talk to her once she was on the line. He should be in a meeting now, but bollocks it all, he needed a few minutes.

He picked up the extension on the table in front of him and instructed Marta to push his day back thirty minutes. He hung up on her protest that his flight to the Peace Symposium left in two hours. Putting thoughts of the symposium and the Europol vote that preceded it aside, he sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the leather armrest.

“She said she was fine.”

“Did she sound fine?”

Julian considered his father’s question. How had she sounded? He had to think about it. He’d been too busy fighting the need to see her, to hold her, to analyze how she sounded. Now he did. A little shaky at first, but she’d grown in confidence.

“She did actually.” Which drove him a little crazy. An unreasonable response. Why should he care if she missed him? “I told her Sammy wants her to come back,” he revealed.

“Ah.” His father nodded as if unsurprised, and then he lifted a bushy eyebrow. “You mean you want her to come back.”

“Not at all,” he denied. “We’ve been over this. My duty is to the country.”

“Of course. It’s for the best. What does she have to come back to?”

Julian rocked forward in his chair, buried his fingers in his hair. “I offered her a kingdom.”

“Son—” the proximity of Lowell’s voice indicated his father leaned forward to speak quietly to him “—to Katrina a kingdom is more a detriment than an inducement.”

“Sammy,” he said desperately.

“
Ja,
she loves the boy,” his father agreed. “But Sammy wasn’t enough to keep her here, and he won’t be what brings her back.”

“She loves me, too. I saw it in her eyes.” Those incredible, violet eyes that revealed every emotion. He’d seen everything in the deep blue depths, from disapproval, to amusement, to anxiety, to passion, and yes love. Which left him with the question, “If she loves me, why did she leave?”

Lowell rose and patted him on the back. “Perhaps it’s what she didn’t see in
your
eyes.”

*

“Katrina, you look lovely,” Jean Claude said as he stepped into the lounge of their shared hotel suite. Looking smart and dignified in a tuxedo, he crossed the beige carpet of swirling leaves to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for agreeing to attend the gala with Bernadette and me.”

“The Peace Benefit Gala is a worthy cause.” She swirled the skirts of her lavender ball gown. “And who does not like a party?”

“You.” He squeezed her hand, drawing her to the comfortable couch to sit with him. “In the past you have avoided social occasions, or stuck to the shadows. Tonight you’ve agreed to step into the limelight with us.”

“Bernadette explained your press secretary felt a public appearance with the three of us would help discredit the image projected in the tabloids.” She perched on the edge of the couch. If she sat back in this dress, she’d need a crane to get out. “I’m happy to help in any way I can. Especially as it is my—”

“Stop.” He shook a finger at her. “It is nobody’s fault. The paparazzi do not need a reason. If they have nothing to report or sensationalize, they will make it up. As you saw earlier this week. Now that you are a public figure, you will be targeted more often. You cannot fight them...you can only put out the image you want to project and hope the world sees the truth.”

A public figure? Her? It seemed surreal, but she supposed the fact she received her own invitation to the Peace Benefit Gala confirmed her celebrity. The international event was well attended by the rich and famous, from actual royalty to Hollywood royalty. She pleated the tulle on her skirt. “What if the world does not see the truth?”

“Then that is their problem.” His hand settled over her restless fingers. “You cannot let the press rule your life.”

“I know.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I have finally learned that lesson. It may just take a while to get used to it.”

His gray eyes smiled. “We will help you as much as we can. Tonight all you have to do is smile and look like you’re having a good time.”

“I can handle smiling,” she assured him. Looking happy might be harder to pull off. On the table her mobile phone vibrated. Probably Julian again. After talking to him two days ago, he’d persistently called, and she’d persistently refused to answer.

She required distance to get over him. Speaking with him only made it harder to get her emotions under control. Love for him squeezed her heart. If not for him she would never have had the confidence to step out with Jean Claude and Bernadette tonight. Julian’s faith and belief in her gave her the courage to believe in herself, to command her own power.

Tonight she was proud of herself. Despite her heartache, she must put Julian behind her and move forward.

Bernadette swept into the room in a figure-hugging designer gown in a deep ruby red.

“Darling—” Jean Claude rose gracefully and went to her “—you are stunning.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I will be the envy of every man at the gala.” He kissed his wife’s hand and wrapped it around his elbow before extending his other hand out to Katrina. “Shall we go?”

Katrina gave her mobile one last glance, lifted her chin and joined Jean Claude and Bernadette on the pathway to her future.

*

Turned out looking happy came easily enough with Bernadette running an amusing commentary in Katrina’s ear as they arrived in the limousine and began the press gauntlet known as the red carpet.

The television entertainment and media magazine professionals were all very positive and friendly, but it was still quite overwhelming. Katrina planted a smile on her face and stuck close to her friends.

Bernadette kept looking over her shoulder. At first Katrina thought the other woman was just keeping tabs on her, but she finally realized she was watching for someone or something.

“Is everything okay?” she asked the Princess between interviews.

“Of course.” Bernadette smiled brightly.

They were a quarter of the way down the red carpet, speaking with a British fashion personality about the designers of their gowns, when Katrina felt the heat of a masculine body slide in behind her and a man took possession of her hand. She knew instantly who it was. The way the fashion announcer lit up only confirmed her guess.

“And we are joined by Prince Julian of Kardana,” the pretty blonde gushed. “How cheeky of you to sneak up on us. You look quite dapper this evening.”

“Thank you. I’m happy to join my friends for such a worthy cause.”

“Yes, it’s brilliant to see so many lovely people here supporting peace.”

The chitchat went on for a moment more and then Jean Claude led their party off the dais. As soon as they were clear, he offered Julian his hand. “My friend, it is good to see you.”

After greeting the Prince and Princess, Julian lifted Katrina’s hand to his mouth and kissed the back of her fingers. “I would choose to be nowhere else this night.”

“Is this part of the plan?” Katrina demanded, pulling her hand from Julian’s. She stared daggers at Bernadette. “It would have been nice to have some warning.”

“Julian called at the last moment and asked to join us. It seemed a nice touch to bolster the image we were going for. You would only have fretted if I told you.”

Katrina was given no opportunity to respond as event personnel urged them along.

She should have expected something like this. Bernadette was happily married. She wanted everyone to have a loving family like she did. And for some reason she believed Katrina and Julian belonged together. Maybe it was that sense of responsibility she’d spoken of earlier for insisting Katrina accompany Sammy and Julian back to Kardana.

She felt surrounded by him. The reporters and cameras all but disappeared as she absorbed his heat, inhaled his scent, melted at his touch. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to her.

At the first opportunity she intended to take a firm hand and inform him he couldn’t keep disrupting her life with his repeated calls and impromptu appearances. She’d finally conquered her fear; surely she possessed the strength to stand strong in putting their fling behind her.

Julian bent his head to whisper in her ear. “You may take me to task once we are inside.”

She sent him an arch look over her shoulder that didn’t quite connect with his eyes. “You can be certain I will.”

So she smiled some more, talked endlessly about her gown, and carefully remained noncommittal to any questions regarding her relationship with Prince Julian. A task made easy as he fielded all inquiries with a brash smile and misdirection.

Finally they reached the entrance and the receiving line. She greeted the dignitaries with somber courtesy and happily accepted a flute of champagne once she entered the ballroom. The bubbles tickled the back of her throat and sent a pleasant fizzle tingling through her.

Julian’s hand at her waist constantly reminded her of his presence. A circumstance she needed to deal with immediately. She wasn’t an actress. She had no hope of fooling the entire assembly of celebrities and world leaders into believing they were a couple.

“Time to chat.” She grabbed his hand and drew him through the throng to French doors leading to a balcony lit by miniature lights threaded artfully amongst the crawling ivy.

He came willingly, practically pushing her out the door. She turned to him, but he was already yanking her into his arms. No time to protest before his mouth slammed down on hers. He ravished her with tender demand, taking the kiss deep. Equal parts possessive and obsessive, he pulled a response from her that had her arching onto her toes seeking to get closer to him.

Or maybe that was just her wanting more of him, reveling in his embrace, sinking into the feeling of safety, and home, and the rush of her blood through her veins as sensation built on sensation and she longed for more.

He nipped her bottom lip. The tiny sting of pain brought her back to her senses. And still it took a moment to gather the strength to push him away.

Finally she created an inch between them. That’s all he’d allow, drat the man. And her breasts still brushed his chest with every inhalation as she fought to regulate her breathing, but the space existed, bringing with it the ability to think. Inch by inch she’d gain more.

Her sanity demanded it.

“Why are you here, Julian?” She met his gaze for the first time since his arrival. He looked happy, more at ease than she’d ever seen him. She gritted her teeth. How like a man.