Annie And The Prince

He’d planned it completely and saw little to no room for error. He only hoped she wouldn’t be as headstrong as this Annie seemed to be.

He also hoped she wouldn’t be as young. And as…appealing.

Not that it mattered. He hadn’t wanted Annie to stay and talk during the train ride because of her looks. He’d asked her because he thought she might have some interesting opinions on his country. The fact that this was her first time here made her an ideal person to get a fresh outlook on Kublenstein. That and the fact that she apparently didn’t recognize him.

He’d spent the last week traveling alone—without bodyguards and secretaries—living among his people, in small villages and towns, and listening to their concerns about their country. The one thing that had come up over and over again was the fact that Kublenstein wasn’t an international player. Most of the world hadn’t even heard of Kublenstein, and those who had regarded it as a quaint little throwback vacation spot. But the people of Kublenstein wanted a voice in the European Economic Community. They wanted to be a force in exports and have the respect of the world for their watchmaking and their chocolates, in particular.

After hearing all of that, and agreeing with it, Hans could hardly pass up the opportunity to talk with an open-minded foreigner.

“What is it you do in America?” he asked her, telling himself that his interest was purely clinical and that he was, effectively, gathering data for his interview. Information like the curve of her mouth when she spoke or the brightness that seemed to emanate from behind her eyes would have to be dismissed as irrelevant.

She paused and her chest rose gently as she took a breath. “School librarian.”

“Ah.” He nodded. For some reason it surprised him, though he didn’t know what he’d expected. “A librarian. So what made you decide to come to Kublenstein? Did the students at your school study it?”

She paused thoughtfully. “Well, some have heard the story about the little peasant girl who stopped the war for a day.” Legend had it that a little girl had found a wounded enemy soldier on her front porch during a World War I battle and had assisted him despite the pleas from both sides to return to the safety of her home. While she was out there, no shots were fired.”

“That’s just a myth.”

“Isn’t there a statue built to her in the town square?” Annie asked, reaching for her tour book.

“Yes, but the story is exaggerated.” He was troubled. “Is that all American students learn about Kublenstein?”

“Well…” She didn’t want to offend him, so she didn’t point out that it was very few students who even knew that much. “It’s a very small country.”

That attitude always annoyed him, even though it was true. “Smaller than some, yes, but bigger than others.”

“It’s more of an underrated place than small, I think,” Annie amended. “The only time I can remember any mention of Kublenstein at all was in a history class, and that was just a passing reference that had something to do with Switzerland’s neutrality. But I think it is a charming place.”

“Charming,” he repeated, rolling the word out as if to decide whether he liked it or not.

She pressed her lips together then looked at him seriously. “Oh, yes. Charm means a lot to me. I don’t visit a place because of how far apart the borders are, I go for what’s inside.”

He looked at her with interest. “And what do you think you’ll find inside Kublenstein?” He’d only known her briefly, but he already knew enough to realize such a question could be dangerous when posed to such an honest young woman.

She gave a wry laugh. “I really don’t know. But other places in Europe are bound to be loaded with tourists. Like Paris. I was just there and it was mobbed. But take a place like Lassberg, that you don’t hear much about, and you probably can have the place to yourself.”

He kept his reaction under tight control. He knew she didn’t mean to touch a nerve by pointing out the lack of tourists. “People do live here, you know.”

“Oh, I know. That’s what’s so exciting about it. You can visit and live among the people rather than a bunch of other tourists.” She looked at him with a question in her eyes. “Wouldn’t you rather keep the tourists out? I mean, as a native, wouldn’t you rather preserve your country’s natural charm than exploit it?”

He tightened his jaw and looked out the window. “Kublenstein, like every other European country, needs the revenues that tourism brings in. Without it, the charm you are so interested in would deteriorate.”

“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” She looked out the window again. “It seems a shame.”

“It’s the way it is,” he said, under his breath. It wasn’t her that he was upset with, but the truth of what she said.

“I hope I haven’t offended you,” she said.

She was obviously sincere. “No, of course you haven’t. You were just being honest,” he said magnanimously. Though the news of how little-known Kublenstein was in America wasn’t good, she had told him something of what he needed to know about the American perception of his country.

“Anyway,” she went on. “The size of a place doesn’t make any difference when you consider that you’re trapped in your own head no matter where you are. I mean, even now, in this compartment on the train, I’m stretching my wings more than I ever have in my life.”

He couldn’t help but feel caught up by her enthusiasm. “That’s a good thing, yes?” For just a moment, he wished he could share the same feeling that she seemed to be experiencing.

She gave him a radiant smile, which made his chest tighten. “You know, as strange as it sounds, I feel great. Like something incredible is about to happen.”

It was. He could see it in her eyes. For just a moment, he almost felt it, too, but the feeling was soon replaced by the crashing loneliness that was more familiar to him. Not self-pity, just the solitary existence he’d grown used to over the years.

“This is such beautiful countryside,” she commented, bringing him out of his own thoughts.

He looked to see the familiar mountain peak where his palace was nestled. “Ah, yes,” he said, gesturing toward the window. He was almost home. A small thrill of relief went through him, as it always did. “Although, as you pointed out, it’s small.”

She looked at him and he saw she understood his implication completely. “I didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”

He didn’t like being read that easily. He pointed to the cathedral outside. “We’re coming to the Lassberg city limits now. That’s the Bonner Cathedral.”

She followed the line of his hand. “It looks like something from Hans Christian Andersen. Everything here does. I keep thinking that.”

He’d always taken great pride in the beauty of his country, and it pleased him no end to see the admiration in her eyes, despite what she’d said earlier. It had been a long time since he’d seen someone look at his land with the kind of awe he thought it deserved.

The fact that she did warmed his heart and his feelings toward her.

“No wonder so many fairy tales were written around here,” she said wistfully, looking, for a moment, with such longing that he wondered what was in her heart. She answered the unasked question. “This looks just like the kind of land where people could live happily ever after.”

He gave a brief nod. “Yes. Some people, I suppose.” Foolish, romantic people.

She laughed and stretched her arms out over her head for a moment, saying, “I hope more than just some.”

Expectation shone in her eyes. He spoke before he thought. “I’m quite certain you would, if you stayed,” he reassured her, then stopped, startled by his own feelings. Why had he said that? How silly to be carried away by her ebullience that way.

She met his eyes, and for just an instant they shared some undefinable exchange.

“That is, I believe you’ll like it here,” he said, trying to regain his footing. He had to remain detached, had to command respect. It had been drilled into him since birth. So why did he slip now? It had to be exhaustion because he couldn’t possibly feel as at ease with this woman as it seemed. “While you’re here. Most of our few tourists enjoy their visit.”

“I think I will,” she agreed, then yawned. “Sorry. Anyway, I already am. Enjoying your country, I mean. And I caught that ‘few tourists’ crack.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. Intelligent girl. He’d known her for not more than an hour, and she’d already raised just about every emotion in him. He could not remember ever having met someone so simultaneously exasperating and fascinating.

If she was staying longer, he might want to get to know her better. Just to figure out what it was about her that had him so…piqued.

Thank goodness she wasn’t staying.

“You know what’s interesting?” Annie said, stopping his wandering thoughts. “You strike me as a very solitary person. It surprises me that you actually want more tourism in your country.”

She’d pegged him. “My personal desires are not always commensurate with the needs of my country. When it comes to a choice between their needs versus my own, I have to honor my country over myself.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you’re really patriotic.”