A Royal Wedding(107)

“No.” He laughed. “You’re to go through them and pick out the ones that appeal to you. Try them on. And then make a few choices.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. This was the most delicious moment she’d had in ages.

“How many am I to take?” she asked breathlessly.

“As many as you like, Your Highness.”

She shook her head. “But I don’t know …”

Her voice trailed off.

“Take your time, Princess,” Rolfo said in his kindly manner. “The answers will come to you.”

As she turned to begin sorting through the treasure trove she was overwhelmed. It was really too much. For a moment she couldn’t speak. She’d spent most of the last seven years wearing a crisp white blouse with a plaid skirt. She had no idea where to begin. Reaching out, she touched a white lace blouse, a red velvet skirt, a sky-blue fitted silk sheath, and she sighed.

Rolfo watched her for a moment with a smile, then he left so discreetly she forgot he’d ever been there.

Prince Andre reappeared, raising his eyebrows as he surveyed the scene.

“I see Rolfo has brought you quite a stack of clothes,” he said. “Go ahead and have some fun choosing some things to wear for the next few days. I’ve got a couple more calls to make.”

He realized that this was only fair. After all, he should have taken care that she’d gotten suitable clothes long ago. She was a princess. It was way past time to put away her schoolgirl clothes.

From the look on her face, he could see this was something she wasn’t used to. But that didn’t make sense. Why wasn’t she amassing some sort of massive trousseau? She was supposed to be preparing for a wedding. Why wasn’t someone making sure she was going to her groom properly attired?

With chagrin, he realized he was the one who should have been taking care of making sure that happened. Some guardian he was.

And yet he knew why he’d been neglecting his duties. The more he thought about her, the more he wanted to think about her—and that was something he had to avoid. He’d stayed away for a reason, and it appeared others had not jumped in to take up the slack as he would have hoped. For a few seconds he indulged in a flash of anger toward his aunt, the Duchess of Fersuit, who lived with them at the castle off and on. Why hadn’t she taken over this task? Just how lonely had Julienne been these last few years? And all because he couldn’t trust himself to be near her.

But those days were over. He was going to take over this project and get her married, come hell or high water. And once he got through with her she would understand the sort of life she could lead as a princess, as opposed to what it would be like for her if she chose to turn her back on her destiny.

He watched her look happily through the clothes and only half listened to her chatter as she reacted to each piece, holding one up in front of herself in the mirror, then laughing at the effect. There was no denying it. She was enchanting, and he was tempting fate just having her here.

But that was just how it had to be. He was strong enough to handle it. Not easy, but possible. He’d been through danger before. He grinned suddenly, laughing at himself and his preposterous comparison of this danger to those more immediate and physically damaging incidents, like being shot at by a sniper and having his car blow up in his face. He could handle one little twenty-one-year-old girl— couldn’t he?

“Shot through the heart,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

“I am so in love with all these clothes,” she said, holding up one outfit, and then another. Suddenly her smile dimmed as she had a thought. “Do you always do this?” she asked curiously.

He looked up, surprised and not sure what she meant. “Do what?” he asked her.

She took a deep breath. “Do you always have Rolfo run down and buy clothes for your girlfriends?” she asked, her eyes dark and luminous. And then she said something kind of mean, though it came out of the flash of pain she was feeling. “I suppose you probably have him buy them nightgowns.”

“My girlfriends don’t wear nightgowns,” he said without thinking, then regretted it as she turned bright red.

“Oh, Julienne.” He started toward her, ready to take her hands in his, then stopped himself. “That was just a joke. I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t resist when you gave me such a perfect opening.”

“Okay,” she said, trying hard not to sound a bit shaky.

He shook his head, looking at her with pure affection. “Julienne, you are just too … too …”