A Prince At Last!

The dim light served her purposes well. So did the fact that most of the servants had gone home to their own beds in St. Michel, leaving only a skeletal staff behind in the palace. A hundred years ago, the staff would have lived on the top floor in the servants’ quarters. But things had changed a lot in the past century.

She tried to imagine any of the royal women she was researching sneaking down the hallway toward the Crystal Ballroom to meet the future king. Only one kind of woman did that. A royal mistress. Not that a royal mistress would ever have been caught dead wearing the tailored black slacks and black long-sleeved T-shirt she was presently wearing. Or rubber-soled shoes so her footsteps would be quiet in the marble corridors. Not the sexiest of outfits.

As often happened, Juliet was so caught up in her own thoughts she didn’t realize anyone was in front of her until she almost ran smack into him.

At least she didn’t shriek in surprise. Instead she emitted a startled oomph.

A pair of male arms circled her waist. But even before they did so, she knew it was Luc. Her nose was buried in his shirtfront and she could smell the citrus scent of his soap.

He, too, had changed from his normal working attire. Instead he was wearing the most deliciously silky shirt in a midnight blue that brought out the color of his eyes. She noticed that the minute she looked up. She also noticed the fact that he was smiling at her. Little crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes.

She’d once spent several hours trying to pinpoint the exact blue of his eyes. She’d even gone so far as to check out a color chart in an old watercolor set from her boarding school days.

She’d been younger then. And foolish.

Foolish enough to believe a man like him might come to have feelings for a girl like her. But now the man was about to become a king, leaving her even further behind.

“Nice outfit,” Luc was saying with a grin. “All you need is some face camouflage and you’d be ready for a covert op.”

“Since there are no jungles in St. Michel or in the palace, I didn’t see the point in wearing camouflage. It’s not as though we were rendezvousing in the Palm Room,” she noted tartly, not appreciating his comments about her clothes.

“I’d never find you in all those palms and ferns in there. Besides, it’s too easy for someone to spy on us.”

“Now who’s sounding like James Bond?” she countered mockingly.

“I already told you that I don’t want anyone else knowing about our meetings.”

“And I still say you’d be better off having the protocol minister assist you in this matter.”

“Now don’t go getting all prissy on me, it’s not that I’m ashamed to be seen with you or anything. That’s not what you’re thinking, is it?” Luc demanded, studying her face. “Because you’re dead wrong.”

“If you say so, your majesty.”

He glared at her. “None of that fancy talk.”

“You’re going to have to get used to it,” she firmly informed him. “So you might as well start now.”

“Not with you.”

“Yes, with me. At any official function, you’re going to have to be comfortable with the way others treat you. And they will treat you differently. You must learn to be comfortable with that.”

“Or learn to be a damn good actor,” he muttered.

“Which will no doubt come in handy as well,” she briskly agreed. “Now, one of the royal rules is that no one is to speak to you unless spoken to. I can foresee that this will be a problem since you’re so closemouthed.”

“I am not closemouthed. See?” He pursed his open lips at her.

She was immediately distracted by his actions and by the sensual outline of his mouth—the sculpted curve of his upper lip, the seductive fullness of his lower one. There was little doubt that most women would be fascinated by his smile, fascinated by him…period. Even without the title of king. Without any title at all. Without anything at all.

Oh my. She raised her hands to her cheeks. Concentrate, she fiercely ordered herself. And not on him! On protocol. Which certainly precluded her having fantasies about him. Focus on protocol. What were you saying? Oh yes, you were telling him that he was closemouthed, no, don’t look at his lips again. Stay focused.

“You must learn to speak first and initiate a conversation,” she continued as if nothing had happened. “Go ahead. Pretend I’ve just walked into the royal dining room for an official function. What do you say?”

“Whaaatsuuup?” he drawled, like those American beer commercials they saw on satellite television.

She stifled a laugh and attempted to give him a reprimanding look worthy of Mrs. Friesen, the headmistress at her boarding school. Mrs. Friesen was the queen of reprimanding looks.

He lifted a brow. “What’s wrong? Not appropriate?”

“Not appropriate,” she agreed.

“Do I know you in this scenario? Are you an old friend or someone I’ve never seen before?”

“You don’t know me,” Juliet replied.

“Are you from St. Michel?” Luc asked.

“No.”

“Then I’d ask you who were, where you’re from, what you’re doing in St. Michel…Now what’s wrong?” he demanded as she sighed and shook her head.

“I said to initiate a conversation, not to interrogate me.”

He arched one dark brow at her. “There’s a difference?”

“Yes, there’s a difference.”

“You’re talking to a man who spent eight years in Interpol before coming here to be Head of Security. I’m much better at interrogations than I am at conversations.”

“You don’t seem to have that trouble with me,” Juliet pointed out. “You and I have had some wonderful conversations.”

“You’re different.”

She wanted to ask him how she was different, but he answered before she could do so.

“You’re a friend,” Luc said.

As she’d suspected. She knew he only saw her as a friend and nothing more than that. Get used to it and get over it.

“How would you speak to a stranger?” she said.

“The way I just told you.”

Juliet sighed. Changing his many years of Interpol training was clearly not going to happen overnight. “All right, we’ll come back to conversation later. For now, let’s concentrate on royal protocol. As our monarch, you and the highest-ranking foreign dignitary will walk into the dining room together. Your respective spouses will walk behind you.”

“So which role are you playing?”

“Excuse me?”