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Cindy dealt with the rest of the details in her usual efficient way, then closed the file. “That’s everything you need to know for now.” Adrienne stood up and felt herself sway slightly. Cindy looked concerned. “Are you all right? Perhaps you overdid things by going out this afternoon.”
Adrienne heard the disapproval in Cindy’s voice. Her assistant made no secret of disliking her employer’s habit of going out incognito, even though she had lent the princess her own car for the purpose.
“I’m fine. I probably just need to eat something before I go down.”
“I’ll have a tray sent up right away.”
She was as good as her word, but Adrienne couldn’t bring herself to eat much before she made her entrance into the ballroom. She took her place at the head of the room as the orchestra played the Carramer national anthem, “From Sea to Stars.” No matter how many times she heard it the music still stirred her blood.
As her experienced staff organized a receiving line, Cindy moved to Adrienne’s side ready to discreetly prompt the princess with any names and personal details she might need. She wasn’t needed a great deal. Adrienne considered herself lucky in having a good memory, and now she greeted each person by name, asking after their partners, children and any other concerns that came to mind.
Then she felt herself go cold from head to foot.
“Mr. Hugh Jordan, rancher from San Francisco,” Cindy murmured, thinking Adrienne’s hesitation meant she needed help identifying the next guest.
“Your Highness, this is indeed a surprise,” the man said, his rich, deep voice laced with irony. From the glitter in his remarkable blue eyes, Adrienne gathered that the surprise wasn’t any more pleasant for him than it was for her.
Far from being the paunchy, stuffy businessman she and Cindy had envisioned, Hugh Jordan was tall, muscular and undeniably good-looking. Even in the relative anonymity of a tuxedo, she recognized him instantly. Mr. Hugh Jordan, rancher from San Francisco, was the man who had come to her rescue at the fair.
Like the other guests he touched her hand in a token handshake, but instead of releasing her immediately as protocol required, his strong fingers curled into her palm and a shiver ran through her. “Small world, isn’t it,” he said softly.
Only years of royal training enabled her to keep a bright smile on her face, although her features felt as if they might crack at any moment. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jordan.” Her heart was beating so rapidly that she felt lightheaded, but not by so much as a flicker of an eyelash did she let herself acknowledge their previous meeting.
For a fleeting moment a shadow of a doubt crossed his face, and she saw him mentally comparing the princess in front of him with the woman he’d encountered earlier. In her designer gown with her hair expertly dressed and a fortune in diamonds and emeralds adorning her head, neck and earlobes, she knew she looked very different from the woman he’d met earlier. Could she convince him it was a case of mistaken identity?
Then he returned his gaze to her face and his eyes hardened. She felt her heart sink. Convincing a man like Hugh Jordan that he was wrong wasn’t an option, she saw.
“The pleasure is mine, Your Highness,” he said in a tone so smooth and hard it reminded her of volcanic glass. “I look forward to spending some time later this evening discussing our…mutual interests.”
Before she could summon her voice to reply, he released her hand and moved on, forcing her to deal with the next guest and giving her no time to collect herself. Only part of her mind was on her duty, she found. What did he mean—discuss their mutual interests? He had come to Carramer to negotiate setting up a ranch on Nuee, the ranch she herself had wanted to establish. If the American thought he could take advantage of their earlier encounter to involve her in his project against her will, he was in for a disappointment.
The idea was so distasteful that she rejected it instinctively. She recognized an element of wishful thinking in the hope that he wasn’t the type to do such a thing. Just because he had come to her rescue didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t use it to get something he wanted. Her position made her an ideal target, she knew.
Hugh Jordan had stumbled on a secret known only to her immediate staff. How would he use the information? The question nagged at her all through the ritual of predinner drinks. Usually she enjoyed circulating among her guests, showing her appreciation for their generous support of the children’s charity. Tonight she was so agitated that Cindy put a hand on her arm and steered her aside.
“Are you feeling all right, Your Highness?”
“What makes you ask?”
“You’re on your second glass of champagne already. That isn’t like you at all, especially when you’ve eaten so little.”
Adrienne looked at the goblet in her hand, surprised to find it almost drained. She had drunk it without being conscious of it. Cindy was right. Usually she restricted herself to mineral water before meals and a single glass of wine at dinner. “Thanks for noticing. I guess I’m a little distracted tonight.” Shaken, she handed the glass to Cindy.
Her assistant set it aside. “You looked a bit shell-shocked when I introduced Hugh Jordan. Do you know him?”
“Tonight was the first time we’ve been introduced.”
Cindy accepted the literal truth without question. “Just as well, because as the appeal’s largest donor, he’s seated on your right at dinner. He’ll be coming to escort you in at any minute.”
Adrienne’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the man who captured her attention even across the considerable expanse of the ballroom. Again her heart started its uncomfortably fast beating at the sight of him. Wearing hand-tailored evening clothes, he managed to look more like one of the cold-eyed lawmen she’d seen in films about the American West. He was a head taller than most of the other male guests, and she saw him methodically scan the crowd until he located his quarry—her.
He started toward her like an aimed bullet, the crowd making way for him as if Hugh and not Adrienne had been royalty. She sensed his disapproval from a dozen feet away, and it cut through her like a knife. “Is there time to change the seating arrangements?” she asked Cindy in a low voice.
Cindy checked her watch. “We’re due to sit down in four minutes. I’d have to ask the kitchen staff to delay serving dinner while I reshuffle the seating.” She sounded frayed and Adrienne knew if anyone else had suggested it, her assistant would have told them what she thought in no uncertain terms.
“Don’t bother, then, everything will be fine,” she assured her assistant. It wasn’t fair to burden her with a problem Adrienne had to admit was of her own making. She lifted her head and fixed her best princess-smile to her face as the source of her tension reached her side. “Mr. Jordan, I’m told we’re to be dinner partners.”
He offered her his bent arm, and she was proud of hesitating only fractionally as she tucked her hand into it. “All things considered, you should call me Hugh,” he growled. “I already know the name you prefer to answer to.”
She knew he was referring to Dee, the name he had heard her use at the fair. “My name is Adrienne,” she said firmly, wishing she wasn’t bound by the rules of etiquette to keep her hand in his arm when every instinct urged her to tear herself free and run as fast as she could away from him.
The banquet table was large enough to land a small plane on, but with Hugh at her side she felt as if it was barely roomy enough for the two of them. “What brings you to Nuee, Hugh?” she made herself ask in a conversational tone, as the first course was served with the precision of a military operation.
“I’m sure your staff briefed you on why I’m here. But for the record, I plan to establish a ranch north of Nuee City and breed saddle horses. It’ll be the South Pacific counterpart of a similar facility I own back in the States.”
As the governor of the islands of Isle des Anges and Nuee, her brother, Prince Michel, had to give royal assent before a foreigner could make an investment on that scale in Carramer, she knew. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to convince Michel to change his mind. “How far advanced are your plans?” she asked.
“Far enough. The land is already mine through a Carramer-based holding company. All I need now is royal approval to set up the ranch.”
Approval her brother had withheld from his own sister, she reminded herself, feeling her anger rise. “I suppose you want me to put in a good word for you with Michel,” she said, her tone unconsciously harsh.
He took a sip of the excellent French wine she had refused in favor of mineral water. “I should think you’d be more worried about what I might say to the prince than what you should say to him,” he said.
She was uncomfortably sure that she knew exactly what he was suggesting but she decided to make him spell it out. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
He glanced around, but the guests nearest to them were engrossed in conversation and enjoying the seafood course that had been placed before them. “You know exactly what I mean…Dee.”
So he did intend to take advantage of what he had learned about her activities. Her spirits plummeted. “Kindly don’t call me that here,” she said, keeping defeat out of her voice with an effort. She hadn’t known quite how much she valued her vacations from duty until they were under threat.
“I gather no one knows about your little foray but you and me.”
“My personal staff know that I like to…keep in touch,” she said awkwardly.
“Is that what you call risking your beautiful neck for a few thrills?”
She drew herself up regally. “You presume a lot on very little knowledge, Mr. Jordan.”
His hand slid over hers in a fleeting but oddly possessive gesture. “It’s a bad habit of mine, especially with a lady whose beautiful a—anatomy I’ve had the pleasure of saving.”
“Crudely put but accurate,” she snapped. “Why do I sense that a simple thank-you isn’t enough to persuade you to drop the subject?”
“Because it won’t be,” he said so mildly that it hardly sounded like a threat at all. More a promise, she thought. Men like Hugh Jordan didn’t threaten. “Why did you refuse me when I asked for a meeting?”
“I didn’t—”
“Oh, the princes’ office gave me the official excuses, but in my experience we can generally do the things we most want to do. Therefore, you wouldn’t see me because you didn’t want to.”
It was bad enough being cut off in midsentence. Of the many people in her life, perhaps only her brothers would have dared. “Royalty has its obligations,” she said, annoyed at being second-guessed so accurately.
“Then Nuee’s prosperity should be high on the list.”
“Of course it is. It’s the smallest of Carramer’s main islands with the least resources.”
“One of them being native horses with the potential to be the world’s greatest saddlebreds.”
“Agreed,” she said.
“So why put up a fight?”
“Because I refused a meeting?”
His eyes gleamed. “A confession, princess?”
Too late, she saw the trap. “A question…and you haven’t answered it.”
He spread his long fingers wide. “Your brother tells me you’re the greatest living expert on Nuee’s native horses. With your expertise and my setup, we could conquer the riding world.”
“Why not the other way around?” she said softly.
His breath hissed between those inviting full lips. “So that’s what this is all about. You wanted that land for yourself, didn’t you?”
“It’s perfect for raising saddlebreds.”
“So why didn’t you buy it?” He swept a gaze around the banquet hall. He knew the value of the silverware alone would feed a normal family for a year. “It can’t be lack of money.”
“Try lack of a Y chromosome.”
He looked startled, as if the idea would never occur to him. “Because you’re female? Carramer isn’t that feudal.”
“It depends on one’s family.”
“Your brothers?” When she nodded, he said, “They must have good reason for keeping you out of the ranching business. Maybe they’re trying to protect you.”
“Spoken like a typical male,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”
“The way you did this afternoon? What’s with you, anyway, princess? You could have been injured or killed sneaking out like that.”
She let her eyes flash regal fire at him and waited for him to quail. When he didn’t, she snapped, “I would have handled that drunken oaf. I did handle him, come to think of it.” She saw Hugh wince at the memory of her well-aimed kick. “And I never sneak.”
“So this isn’t the first time you’ve gone out alone and in disguise.” It wasn’t a question. It was certainty. He didn’t seem surprised when she didn’t deny it and went on in an angry voice, “Princess, it seems to me that you don’t know when you’re well-off.”
Confusion gripped her. She had feared he would use what he knew to gain some benefit, but instead he sounded angry on her account. This was getting much too personal. Luckily the next course was being brought in. “I’m glad we had this talk, Hugh, but I can’t monopolize you all evening.”
He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He might be a self-made man but his education, rough as it was, had included the rules of etiquette. Both of them owed some of their attention to the guests on either side of them. “There’s still my dance,” he reminded the princess before she could turn to the man on her left. He had the satisfaction of seeing her lovely eyes widen.
“Your dance?”
“As your appeal’s biggest benefactor, I get to dance with the princess at least once tonight.”
“I may retire early.”
“Even you wouldn’t buck the system that far.”
He was right, damn him. She still had a feeling he wanted something from her, something he hadn’t mentioned yet. She resolved to make it a short dance. “Very well, then, we’ll continue this later.”
He nodded graciously enough but muttered something that sounded like, “You bet we will.” With a resigned sigh, she turned her attention to the man seated on her left. He was a meteorologist, she remembered from Cindy’s briefing. She hoped discussing the weather would be easier on her blood pressure than talking with Hugh.
Even with her attention directed elsewhere she was aware of him, she noticed uncomfortably. As her companion launched into a long dissertation about the effects of the various currents on Carramer’s water temperatures, she nibbled around the edges of her food, mostly pushing it around her plate to give the appearance of eating.
When the lecture faltered, she dragged a snippet of information out of her memory. “I believe you’re also interested in the thermal mapping of tropical storms.”
The meteorologist colored with pleasure. “Your Highness is well informed.”
Efficient, too, in studying the briefing notes Cindy had prepared for her ahead of time. Adrienne inclined her head. “It’s kind of you to say so. Please, go on.”
This started a fresh wave of information that she absorbed with only half her attention. The other half kept shifting to Hugh who had his head bent close to a middle-aged blond woman on his right. Had Cindy mentioned her? She was somebody’s wife, Adrienne recalled, although right now she wasn’t acting much like one.
The woman was all but batting her eyes at him. Hugh didn’t seem to mind, lapping up the attention like mother’s milk. She wasn’t jealous. The woman was welcome to him, Adrienne told herself. He annoyed her, and not only because he knew her secret. He refused to treat her with the deference due her position, challenging and insulting her in a way no one else dared to do.
In fairness she couldn’t blame him for securing the land she had wanted for herself. That fault lay with her brother. But she did resent Hugh’s ready acceptance of it as his right, and his attitude that, as a woman and a princess, she needed protecting from the big, bad world.
All the same he intrigued her, possibly because she didn’t intimidate him. America had no royal family, she recalled, having shed their ties with their monarch centuries before. Yet Hugh’s attitude didn’t seem to come from lack of experience with royalty as much as from the depths of his own character. He would bow before anyone who had earned his deference, but not otherwise, she sensed.
The thought of dancing with him was scary and exhilarating by turns.
At the end of the elaborate meal she stood up, signaling a return to the ballroom, where her heart started to flutter in anticipation. Surely she couldn’t want to dance with Hugh Jordan? If he passed on what he knew, he could cause trouble for her with her brothers. By right she should keep as far away from him as possible. Yet her eyes sought him out with the same recklessness that sent a moth darting to a fatal flame.
“May I have this dance, Your Highness?” he asked formally as the orchestra struck up a waltz.
“Yes.” Strange how hard it was to force the single word out.
With a smoothness she hadn’t expected, he took her hand in his and led her into the center of the room. Pressing against the small of her back, his other hand felt fiery, the almost-backless dress no shield against his touch. She was relieved when they completed the obligatory circle of the room and other dancers joined them on the floor. Alone with Hugh in the spotlight, she had felt exposed and vulnerable.
“You look surprised that I can dance,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “Did you doubt that the foreign cowboy had it in him?”
His breath ruffled her hair, distracting her. “You obviously know your way around a banquet hall and a dance floor, and you’re smart enough in business to impress Michel. So why pretend you’re a hick cowboy?”
“Because it’s what I am. A street kid, a foundling, call it what you like. I wasn’t born with your advantages.”
She tensed involuntarily. “You mean belonging to the royal family?”
“I mean belonging to any family. I didn’t have a family until I was fourteen years old, but you have since birth. Maybe that’s why you don’t appreciate it.”
His harsh tone made her wince almost more than the grip on her hand which had tightened as he spoke. “What makes you think I don’t?”
“Why else would you run away from everything you are for the sake of a cheap thrill or two?”
“You could never understand,” she said bitterly.
