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Briefly, as she watched him study his notepad, Lucia contemplated the fact that Harrison was nineteen years older than herself. She watched as his firm fingers used the pen to jot a note on the pad. She shivered slightly. Age didn’t matter. In her acquaintances with artists, musicians and people of “improper” society, according to her mother, Lucia had learned that appearances didn’t matter. It was what was inside the person that was truly important.
She wanted to know what was inside Harrison Montcalm. If her suspicious were right, and they always were, deep inside Harrison was a heart of gold.
Harrison looked up and caught her staring at him. Her cheeks flamed pink. “You were telling me about Gregory Barrett,” he said.
“Oh, right,” Lucia replied. She didn’t want to talk about Gregory. Instead, she wanted to learn about Harrison. “To make a long story short, I dated him and he literally swept me off my feet. We were engaged after two months, and we’d set a wedding date. It was when the Carradigne family lawyers insisted on a prenuptial agreement that things began to fall apart.” She paused. Then Greg’s true colors had become quite obvious.
“As for me being fast and loose, that was Greg and his mouth. He used my relationships with my friends against me. He insinuated that every male friend I had was a boyfriend so that he could make himself look like such a victim. According to him, I used him, chewed him up and spit him out. In reality, he didn’t love me. He just wanted a piece of the Carradigne pie. When the lawyers showed him how little he’d get, he said I’d cheated on him. He called me unfaithful so he could dump me like a hot potato and go after some other gullible girl with a trust fund he could pilfer.”
Harrison didn’t look up from the leather portfolio, although Lucia could tell he wasn’t writing anything. “He worked on Wall Street?”
“Had. Bad investments got him in trouble and fired. So he needed my cash, and fast.” Lucia shuddered. Gregory’s deception had made her leery of men, especially ones that Charlotte found for her. “Do you want to know if we slept together?”
Harrison’s head snapped up, and to Lucia’s surprise he physically recoiled at that announcement. “That’s not necessary.”
Lucia jutted her chin forward. To her, making Harrison understand was necessary. “Well, we didn’t. Have sex, that is.”
Harrison straightened. He seemed uncomfortable. “Princess Lucia, King Easton is not concerned about your, um, morality in your choice of, uh, companions. As long as you have been discreet before you take the throne, and as long as, once you become queen, you remain chaste in the eyes of the public until you marry, he will be satisfied that he has made a wise choice.”
“What about you?” Lucia turned the question around. “Do you think he’s made a wise choice?”
She had to give him credit. He was quick and diplomatic. “It is not my place to judge, Princess. I am just to gather the facts, and if the king chooses you, then I will be your adviser and prepare you for your transition to the throne.”
“But you have judged me,” Lucia replied, going back to her real question. He had avoided it, and somehow she knew he had judged her. She felt it deep in her bones, and her female intuition never failed her.
“No, Princess, I have not,” Harrison denied. “That is not 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 Harrison made her slightly shy. His opinion mattered, and today she’d already been forward enough. She blinked, trying not to contain her excitement at the prospect of a “date” with Harrison.
“Anyway,” she said, “there will probably be a line of people outside the club, so just walk by it and give your name at the door.”
Lucia pressed the piece of paper into his hand. “Until tonight at ten.”
And then, before he had a chance to bow, Lucia left the office.
HARRISON STARED after her. The proof was all there—the piece of paper crumbled in his palm, the empty water goblet, the residual smell of roses. She hadn’t been a mirage.
Why did he feel she had been?
Without her, the room seemed empty, lifeless.
Harrison slumped back down into the chair. He ran a hand thoughtfully across his chin, feeling the five-o’clock shadow that he’d need to shave away before he met up with Lucia tonight.
He couldn’t let himself look forward to the evening. But how he wanted to!
Somehow Lucia had triggered something in him, something he needed to explore. He could control it, whatever it was. After the incident with Mary, he’d made being in control a lifelong habit.
The phone on the desk buzzed and Harrison strode over to pick it up.
“King Easton would like to see you before he returns to Charlotte’s apartment,” Ellie told him. “He informs me he’s dining with Lucia and her mother tonight, and he’d like to know if you’ve discovered anything.”
Great. Easton wanted a full report already. Harrison wished he had something to say, besides Lucia’s side of Gregory Barrett’s story.
For right now, though, that would have to be enough.
“I’ll be right up,” he said, knowing that once again he was going to lie to his king. But what else could he do?
Torn, he headed toward the elevator, already rehearsing his lines.
Chapter Three
Prince Markus Carradigne was standing in the embassy’s huge atrium lobby when the elevator doors opened.
“Lucia!”
She stepped out, her surprise evident. “Markus!” She accepted the kiss her thirty-five-year-old cousin gave her on the cheek.
“What are you doing here?” Markus said pleasantly. “I’m here all the time, but I don’t think I’ve ever remembered you stepping foot in the embassy before.”
“Actually, I don’t think I ever have been here,” Lucia replied. She thought for a moment. “Maybe I came here once with my father when I was a very young child, but I don’t remember. So probably not.”
“Well, you are looking lovely. A breath of fresh air in this stuffy old place,” he said.
Lucia laughed. She’d always been fond of Markus, although lately she’d been wary of him. He’d always made no secret of his desire for the throne of Korosol, and his obsession with it—especially now that Easton was here—was almost creepy.
Still, Markus had been nothing but nice to her and he was charming. Of course, it was too bad his hairline was beginning to recede a little and his gut was starting to expand. If Harrison could keep fit, why couldn’t Markus?
The little white lie coming from her mouth slid out with ease. “What is it with people thinking everything is old lately? You look younger every time I see you. It must be that new girlfriend of yours.”
“Ah, if you weren’t my cousin, Lucia, I’d be the first in line to snatch you up,” Markus said with a laugh. “You are such a flatterer. Seriously, though, what brought you by?”
Lucia shrugged. “I had an appointment.”
Markus nodded, his blue eyes speculative. “Did it concern what I’ve been reading in the paper lately? Have Krissy Katwell’s columns shaken the king up a bit?”
“Perhaps. But you, probably better than anyone, know our grandfather. I know we all thought his choice for an heir would have been you.”
For a moment a dark shadow crossed over Markus’s face. Then it flickered away as if it hadn’t been there at all. “Yes, well, it’s his prerogative to name a successor,” he said with a slight laugh. “That’s the Korosolan law. Perhaps he’s just making sure he has left no stone unturned or something like that.”
“Perhaps he thinks it’s too soon after the death of your parents for you to deal with all the pressures of ruling.” Lucia placed a hand on Markus’s arm. “I’m still so sorry about your parents, Markus. Even after a year, it must be difficult for you.”
“Yes, it is,” Markus replied. He lifted his arm and adjusted his silk tie.
“Well, it was good seeing you. I’ve got to get going. I’m already late and you know how my mother is. She’s probably chomping at the bit that I’m not doing what’s proper.”
