Princess In Denim (5 page)

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Chloe and Moira, at the same time, engulfed each other in a spontaneous hug. The dog snarled and barked.

"You really mustn't," Emma whispered in Chloe's ear. "You're a princess now."

"But I'm not," Moira said, as she turned and held the woman who'd reared and protected her.

Chloe watched a tear slide down Emma's cheek, which just provoked more tears on Chloe's part, and she caught William's frown at what he probably considered very radical behavior for a royal princess's private secretary.

Chloe, who was losing not one best friend, but two, hugged Friday one last time and held the leash out to Moira. "Take good care of her, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Promise me...Chloe."

Moira took the leash. "I promise." She headed toward the door, which had been opened. The dog planted all four feet and braced herself. Moira tugged one way, Friday the other.

Chloe's heart broke. She turned to Emma, who shook her head. They'd been over this before. Chloe couldn't take the dog with her. She gave Friday a go-ahead wave with her hand, but it didn't do any good.

Moira dragged Friday, growling, toward the door, then stood back and let King William go first. Leonard dashed forward and put himself between William and the dog.

Chloe watched William and Moira walk, and drag, across the well-lit tarmac toward the black limousine. Leonard followed.

"Well, Emma, there she goes."

Emma sniffed.

Chloe squeezed her hand. "She'll be fine."

"I hope so, Your Highness."

"I just hope she doesn't goof up in the limo."

"That will be the easy part."

"Yeah, if she doesn't let the dog bite the king." Chloe watched William duck his head as he folded his body into the limo. "It'd be a shame to damage such a nice pair of"

"Your Highness!"

Chloe grinned. "Trousers, Emma. I was going to say trousers."

Even though she was noticing not the trousers, but what was in them. And anticipating his return to the jet.

* * *

William settled himself into the limousine. He probably should spend the drive thinking about his upcoming meeting with Dr. Lowenstein and how to recruit the man for Baesland, but he had more important things on his mind just then. Information.

"It seems you are very close to Her Royal Highness, Miss Marshall."

"Please, call me Chloe."

The dog growled at her.

"It is too bad your dog is not as fond of you as Her Highness." He noticed Leonard was ready to pounce on the animal, should the need arise.

"Yeah, she kind of took a liking to Moira. Too bad she couldn't have gone home with her."

"You would not miss your dog?" Personally, William had never developed a bond with an animal, but he understood it to be quite common.

"Of course I would. I love my dog."

William was too polite to argue the lack of wisdom in loving an animal that could tear her hand off. Princess Moira, on the other hand, had suffered at the teeth of a dog long ago, and yet apparently liked the animal. Very puzzling.

William chose his words carefully. "Are you meeting someone here in Dallas?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You are quite pretty. I thought surely you must have a fiance or a boyfriend."

Miss Marshall shook her head, apparently off in her own world and not about to make this easy for him.

"I suppose Her Highness is leaving someone behind?" he hinted.

That got her attention, and she answered with a hint of a smile. "Someone?"

"She is very beautiful. I imagine she has broken more than one heart by returning home."

"Just the dog's." William could not believe his luck. He would not have to wait for her to heal a broken heart. He could spend time with her. They could go riding together in the countryside. They could start as friends. If she could care for a disagreeable dog, maybe she could come to care for him. Maybe even before her father broke the news.

Chapter Three

Chloe, tucked into the most comfortable bed she'd ever slept in, got a good night's sleep on the jet as it winged toward central Europe. A morning person by nature, she always woke up on her own shortly after dawn. So today, when she rolled over, opened her eyes and saw that it was light out, she hopped right out of bed and headed for the en suite bathroom.

She'd changed and showered in it last night, enjoyed the decadence that money and royal blood provided, and that inspired her off-key stab at "Wouldn't It Be Loverly?' She'd been quite amused with her new lyric, "All I want is a shower in a plane."

She'd thought by this morning she'd be used to it—from the hand-painted ceiling, marble walls, and old taps, all the way down to the intricately laid floor, but she still marveled over the extravagant expense of one small room. She caught herself improvising, "Lots of gold for me to touch," and promptly shut up before she was overheard.

Someone—since she didn't have a personal maid
yet,
she knew it had to be Emma—had hung a red silk suit on the bathroom door for her, where she was sure not to miss it.

"Oh, Emma," she whispered, touched by Emma's thoughtfulness. Moira never wore red. This suit was just for Chloe.

All the accessories she needed were laid out on the dresser. She'd seen the gold jewelry before, on Moira, and couldn't believe it was now hers, to wear or not, whatever she decided.

Emma knocked and peeked in. "Good morning, Your Highness. I just wanted to be sure you were awake."

"Emma, come in."

"Yes, Your Highness." She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

"Thank you for the suit."

"It was nothing, Your Highness."

Chloe smiled softly. "No wonder she adored you so much." She didn't have to say who; they both knew.

"She did?" Emma blushed and grasped the doorknob, as if to escape. "I mean, thank you, Your Highness. We'll be landing soon, so I came to suggest that you take a seat."

"Oh, okay." She thought she should class that up a little, and added, in a more dignified tone, "Thank you, Emma."

"Your Highness." Emma closed the door softly behind her.

Chloe wasted no time; she didn't want to keep anyone waiting on her. She hurried back to the bathroom for one last check of her French braid, which she still wasn't sure she'd gotten symmetrical.

She made only one mistake. It hadn't dawned on her to knock on her own bathroom door until she pulled it open and rushed in to find she was sharing space with William.

And he with no more than a fluffy white towel wrapped around his hips.

"Oh!"

Tall, dark, and handsome in a suit, he was quite stunning out of one.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty."

She should have shut the door before she embarrassed herself further, before she could sweep over his body with an admiring gaze. His hair was damp, his torso bare, his chest broad and smooth. It was quite obvious the broad shoulders she'd noticed yesterday hadn't been enhanced by any padding in his jacket. The only control she could muster at that point was to refuse to let her gaze wander over the towel and beyond.

"Leonard came in a short while ago and told me it is time to take a seat," he said, with a hint of a smile breaking through the dark shadow of morning whiskers.

"Yes, Emma did, too." She wondered how she even came up with such a coherent reply when she should have been backing out the door faster than the plane was flying. "I mean, she came and told me the same thing. In my room," she babbled.

"Are you all right, Your Highness?"

"Hmm? Yes, yes, I'm fine." She pasted on a smile. "Why do you ask?"

Something she probably shouldn't have asked, she noted, as his smile widened and his eyes twinkled.

"No reason," He held out his hand to her.

She stared at it. It was large, strong-looking, tanned. A ruby, set in gold and surrounded by diamonds, adorned his ring finger. It looked very regal and official, not at all like a wedding band. But then, what did she know of royal jewelry? Absolutely nothing. She hoped it wasn't customary to curtsy and kiss his ring or something first thing in the morning. Emma had never mentioned anything like that, but then, Emma hadn't planned on the king at all.

She jumped when William leaned toward her and took her hand in his. When he pulled her toward his room, she dug in her heels.

"All right, then, we will go into your room," he said.

Which meant he stepped right up to her, put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around toward the door through which she had come. She walked forward; she really had no choice with him guiding her like that and, before she knew it, she was sitting in an upholstered chair, knee-to-knee with him in an adjacent one.

His towel slid upward as he sat, then gapped open over one thigh, revealing sturdy muscle and more tanned flesh than her shaky composure could handle at the moment.

"Oh, there you are, Your Majesty," Leonard said tonelessly as he passed through the bathroom and into Chloe's room. He stood very erect, his arms parallel to his body. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"Not until we land."

With William's eyes no longer on her, Chloe let her gaze drift lower, beyond the towel's edge, over his knees, down to his bare feet and back up again. She'd never admired a man's legs before. Heck, she'd never admired any part of a king before, but she was ogling most all of one now.

He seemed perfectly comfortable with his near nakedness. Did he parade around in front of his queen this way? Did he have a queen?

"Find yourself a seat somewhere," he told Leonard.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

She snapped her eyes back up into decent territory, only to find she was too late. His grin said he knew perfectly well where she'd been.

The plane bumped down gently and started to taxi.

"There, now I can shave." William rose, headed for the bathroom, but then turned back to Chloe. "Is there anything you need in here first? I can wait." He held out his arm in an invitation for her to brush past him.

She bolted to her feet. "No. Thank you." She glanced around the room as she searched for the nearest exit. "I'm going to go...out now."

Just when she was almost to the correct door and into safer territory, he spoke again. "Your brother said he was sorry he cannot be at the airport to meet you."

"Mmm, okay." She pulled the door open without looking back.

"And Leonard informs me that the airport is packed with people from Ennsway waiting to see you after so many years."

Packed?

She hesitated on the threshold to see if there was a punch line to this news. Although what could be worse? She wanted to dip her toe into this princess role and get used to it slowly, and it seemed she was about to be get a quick dunking.

She needed questions answered, like was the king married? She needed tutoring, as in how to greet a crowd of people at the airport. She needed Emma right behind her, whispering instructions in her ear, all the way to the castle.

And she'd thought she was in over her head when she saw William in nothing more than a towel.

William leaned over the vanity and peered into the mirror, pulling his face this way and that as the electric razor buzzed his whiskers away. He preferred a blade, but not when flying, for obvious reasons. If an occasional air pocket did not cause nicks, then the way Princess Moira had looked at him would have.

She was supposed to be a virgin. King Albert, her father, had practically guaranteed it.

A virgin would be shy around a half-naked man.

His hand jerked, and the razor pinched the skin beneath his nose. "Ow."

Leonard's face appeared in the wide mirror beside his. "Is everything all right, Your Majesty?"

"Fine, Leonard."

He was less than half-naked, he was barely covered.

A virgin would have blushed and turned her eyes away.

"Ow. Damn!"

Leonard's face gave nothing away. "Trouble, Your Majesty?"

William set the razor on the marble with a thud. A good, solid thud to get his mind off the princess's experience with men—or lack thereof—a d onto delivering her to her father before his afternoon nap. "This blasted thing is dull."

"Sure it is," Leonard mumbled.

"Speak up, man."

"I said I will see that it is taken care of today. Perhaps Your Majesty is unhappy with Her Highness?"

William combed his already combed hair and brushed past his secretary. As usual, his suit had been laid out by his valet, and all William had to do was get dressed. He did not even have the luxury of another task to take his mind off Princess Moira.

Leonard continued, "I could call King Albert's secretary and see if the old man is having second thoughts."

"That will not be necessary." As a matter of fact, William was having second thoughts of his own. They had to do with the heat he had seen in Moira's eyes. Perhaps she was not so meek after all. Perhaps instead of his educating a shy virgin on their wedding night, they would both enjoy a more passionate encounter. Perhaps, even, ahead of schedule.