A Royal Wedding(116)

That made him smile, and that was a relief. Life was better when the Prince was smiling.

She remembered how it had been when she’d first come to the Diamante castle to live after her parents had died. At first she’d been afraid of him. He’d seemed so tall, so strong—so unsmiling. But then she’d become more comfortable around him and their relationship had blossomed into something close to friendship.

He’d made it a point to eat at least one meal with her a day when he was at home in the castle—just the two of them. Those were the times she really treasured. She’d had to sit through a hundred stern lectures about how she should behave, but it was worth it. When the lecture was over, his hard, handsome face would soften with affection and he would ask her how her day had gone, or what she’d learned from her governess, or they would take the horses out and ride over the hills. He was wonderful. He was her life.

That all changed when she turned eighteen. He authorized a big party for her birthday. Her aunt invited a hundred young people from royal and noble families. There were afternoon games and then a sumptuous feast in the great hall, and finally a ball that lived up to all her fantasies. Even now, when she closed her eyes, it all came back to her—the swirling lights, the throbbing music, the excitement, the colors. The young men had all wanted to dance with her and the young women wanted to be her friend. For the first time in her life she was the center of it all. It was intoxicating—a magical night.

But best of all was the last dance at midnight. And that dance, of course, was with the Prince.

She still remembered the song that had been playing—”The Look of Love”. They had swayed together without either of them saying a word, and she’d felt as though she’d entered a dream. They were out on the terrace, away from all the others. There was moonlight, shadows and music—and a gorgeous man in her arms. The song began to fade away and she looked up, yearning toward him. His mouth was there, and then the kiss. Slow and deep and delicious, it awakened senses in her body she hadn’t known she had. And then he pulled away, and others surged out onto the terrace, and it was over.

But everything changed after that.

She had to admit she’d had her daydreams, even though she knew there was no reason for it. Thinking of that now, she sighed and sank against the back of his leather jacket, holding on to him as though she could hold on to the dream as well.

They entered the peaceful valley that led to Giselle’s home about an hour later. Andre was looking forward to seeing her. She’d always been his favorite cousin.

He remembered when she’d come to him for advice. What had he told her? He tried to think of his words at the time. Something about not being foolish, not to count on anyone else in this world. Love didn’t last. She was going to throw away everything for the chance to reach for something that would melt away like a snowflake once she’d grasped it.

She’d laughed at him, called him cynical. Was she laughing now? They would see the answer to that one soon enough. He only hoped Giselle would be ready to tell the truth to them both.

Julienne could sense his moodiness. Was she really as attuned to his emotions as it felt like she was—or was she fooling herself? She thought of all those long, lonely nights when she’d stared at the ceiling of her small cell in the convent and thought about the Prince. And all the waiting she’d done. That really was the hardest part, as hope slowly faded.

And now here she was, holding on to him with both hands. It was glorious, and she meant to savor every second of it.





CHAPTER FIVE



THE big Harley made a lot of noise driving into the valley— an excessive amount of noise for people trying to hide from too much attention, in Julienne’s mind. She had a feeling Andre had been looking for an excuse to ride it out into the countryside. But she had to admit she was enjoying the trip as well.

As they neared the cottage where Giselle lived they stopped at a corner, and a young girl suddenly swung down, hanging off a branch on a tree before them.

About nine years old, she was wearing ragged jeans and a yellow pullover with a faded picture of a monkey on the chest. She stared at them from under a curly mop of light brown hair and they stared back. Andre cut the engine and swung off the bike, ready to catch her in case she should fall, but not wanting to be too obvious about it.

She let go just before he got into place, and landed on her bare feet all on her own. He grinned at her.

“Are you one of Giselle’s girls?” he asked at last.