Chapter 6

A scene after the Ball clinched my decision to bid Ingrid a fond but final bon voyage on her life journey.

Fiery was generally used to describe redheads, but this blonde needed a chimney. The woman was accustomed to the routine. I circulated, dancing with different partners, gravitating back to Ingrid when time permitted…out of habit. When I danced with Ginny in the Royal Waltz no less, my former girlfriend’s jealousy had begun to simmer.

After the ball, with the peck of a kiss, Ingrid and I had gone to our separate rooms, hers only a few doors down the hall from my chambers. I undressed, slipped into my robe, and waited for Ginny. However, my first visitor wasn’t the one I keenly expected. A brief, angry tap, and the door burst open, Ingrid storming into the room.

“We need to talk, Alexander.” Hands on hips—invisible smoke curling from ears—she glared at me.

Without a lifetime of rigorous training, I’d have lost it and laughed. My mother still called me Alexander when she was angry with me. As a child, if she’d called me by my full name, then I was in for a long talk with the King.

I didn’t rise to greet her but shouldered back in my chair in front of the fire. “Certainly, but not now. It’s been a long day. I’m weary, Ingrid.”

“Not too tired to ignore me and dance the shoes off that American bitch.” She stomped closer. “Can’t you see she has her hook baited for you?”

I did laugh then. “A hook baited? Please, Ingrid, your fishmonger is coming out.”

“Indeed!”

I blew out a sigh, set aside my champers, and stood. “You think that of every woman with whom I come into contact.”

“Don’t laugh, Alexander. I’m deadly serious.” She moved as fast as a snake, now within striking distance. “I do not think that about every woman, and there are lots of them. I realize your duties, but this was more than a duty. The Royal Waltz at that. You’ve never invited me to dance in the Royal Waltz. I know you were scripted to partner with your Aunt Heloise.”

In her current state, Ingrid was volatile. I tensed, preparing for a blow, standing still and quiet. Any prey knew to be motionless. Movement would encourage trouble, and I didn’t want to have to resort to grabbing her arm to save my eye.

“I was embarrassed to say the least.” Her slipper collided with the floor on a soft thud. The thick carpet defeated the effect of her anger.

Stomping of feet. That did it. “Ingrid, you’re behaving like a jealous hoyden.” I strode past the beautiful time bomb and opened the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re throwing me out?” Surprise registered on her flushed face. “Why not have Security do it for you?” Rigid with anger, she marched to the door and faced me, her hands fisted at her sides. “Ask me, and I’ll stay.”

“I’m asking you to exit my chamber. Go to bed and cool off.” I pointed at the dim corridor. “I see you have your mobile. Use it as a flashlight.”

“You—you connard.” She flounced past me.

Time bomb was a misnomer. The blonde bomb shell had detonated, but I’d survived the direct hit. I still held the door. Otherwise, I was positive she’d have slammed it.

As always, we’d been speaking French, but somehow tonight the word connard infuriated me more than if she’d spat bastard in English.

Gently, I closed the door, shooting the bolt against further intrusion until Ginny arrived. Ingrid’s red-faced anger had annoyed rather than truly angered me. I crossed the room to my favorite reading haunt—a red velvet window seat overlooking the city. Folding into the rather small space, I settled down with a book about the American Civil War. A pleasant shiver tickled the hair at my nape. Soon, my red-haired Southern Belle would be delivered to my door.

I’d promised that we’d talk, only talk. An image of a beautiful woman in a green gown that fired her pale green eyes drifted through my mind.

“Ginny,” I whispered, “That promise is going to be very hard to keep.”

***

Ginny’s POV

“Madam. Come this way, please.” The man motioned for Ginny to take that first fatal step into the corridor and a new phase of her life. She’d never been the risk-taker, but the stakes here were as high as the risks.

If she followed her heart, there was no going back. Following her heart might well get her heart broken. Following her head and staying behind was safest—no chance of heartache—but she didn’t want to wake up an old woman, wondering what might have been. What she’d missed if she’d only taken that step…

“I’m Marcus, the Prince’s manservant cum occasional-secretary.” He nodded a respectful acknowledgement and gave her a reserved smile, but his hazel eyes danced to their own merry tune. He wasn’t a man to stand out in a crowd. Of average height with brown hair and hazel eyes, but his eyes made him remarkable.

“Nice to meet you, Marcus.” She hesitated only for a second, then stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her.

The snick of the lock sounded far too final, but her heart thundered to a new beat. She turned, and eyes downcast like any good King’s mistress, she nodded and followed her guide to what might be another frightening threshold—or a terrifying surrender. He led her through dim, winding passageways until she was completely lost. In a dramatic moment, she’d worn a deep green velvet cloak with a hood to cover her face. Hopefully, if they met anyone, the garment would protect her from curious eyes. Neither of them needed for her to be caught. She felt like a royal mistress being secreted up the back stairs to her lover. Maybe Nell Gwyn to Charles II. Images of Lex’s handsome face stayed with her, fortifying her courage on what seemed like an endless journey. The hand holding her hood trembled slightly. Inside, she was a basket of nerves. The longer they walked, the more fear mingled with keen anticipation. One hand rested at her midriff, excitement tickling her stomach.

At last, her guide stopped at a heavily carved door. Marcus tapped lightly. The door opened immediately, and Lex beckoned for her to enter. He looked beautiful in a red velvet robe, the royal crest embroidered in gold on a breast pocket.

“Ginny.” His voice was as intense as the look in his blue eyes. “You came.”

That look burned through her, warming the chill of fear from her bones. Sudden tears misted her eyes, but she trusted the shadow of the hood to keep her secret—that he simply overwhelmed her. She smiled, hoping her smile conveyed one-tenth of the pleasure so evident in his.

He turned to his manservant. “Thank you, Marcus. I’ll ring you.”

Behind her, the door closed, and a lock clicked. Her heart leapt into her throat. What was she doing? If they were caught, her reputation would be for the tubes and goodness knows what the King would do. But she couldn’t find it in her heart to regret coming.

The room was palatial, but somehow managed to be warm and welcoming, perhaps, because of the personal photographs scattered here and there on the furnishings—Lex and different horses, Lex and his car. What no pictures of Lex and his lover? Has he ordered them cleared away just for her visit? This must be his living area. There was a luxurious sofa of blue-and-gold brocade, inlaid tables, and an Imperial desk and matching chair. The silk drapes picked up the blue-gray in the brocade. The opulence was a trifle overwhelming to a small-town girl; would be, she suspected, to a world-wise woman.

He took both her hands, and a tiny thrill rippled through her. “I’m glad you’re here. May I take your cloak? Beautiful by the by. I love the deep purple lining. Too bad ladies don’t wear these more often today.” He chatted happily while he removed her wrap and hung it on a brass coatrack by the door. “Champagne?”

When he gestured at a bottle on a low table inlaid with mother-of-pearl, Ginny nodded. “That would be lovely,” and she waited while he strode across the room to an antique sideboard. On its polished surface was a silver tray with a silver wine cooler and two exquisite crystal champagne flutes.

He lifted the bottle, and surprise tickled her stomach. Despite the firelight, she read Dom Perignon. As a guest, she must rate quite high.

Lex glanced up from pouring, and those incredible blue eyes captured her. “Please, have a seat by the fire. Sometimes, I turn the A/C down to subzero and have a fire lit for the ambience. I love the crackle and pop of the sparks as they fly up the chimney and the peaceful way a fire can make you feel.”

“Thank you.” After the ball, anticipating this moment, she’d changed from her handsome ballgown into a flowing amber maxi-dress, the one that Chrissy often borrowed. Ginny liked the way it swirled around her ankles. The neckline showed what cleavage she had, modest at best. Chrissy filled the top much better, but she always looked as if she might spill out.

The white marble fireplace gleamed softly in the firelight. She tried not to gawk at her surroundings, but she’d never been in a royal prince’s bedchambers. Nor was there likely to be a repeat performance. She had to keep firmly in mind that this was a one-night stand.

He handed her the champagne flute. As she accepted, their hands brushed, and excitement zinged through her. This man had far too much power over her. He was going to try to seduce her. She’d come for that specific reason. On one shoulder, the Devil whispered of sensual delights. On the other, her angel warned that she didn’t want to be just another on his chain of hearts. He’d promised they’d only talk. What would they talk about?

Was it because he was royalty? Not at all. She resonated to his touch. Even now, her desire beat deep inside. No one had ever turned her on with a mere brush of his fingers. Despite the fact that she’d had what Chrissy called a “practice marriage”, she wasn’t a pushover. Now, her heart was caught in a web of hero worship, unbelievable physical attraction, and a low-grade terror that heated her body like a fever.

Saluting her with his glass, he toasted, “To the most beautiful woman at the Ball.” With his free hand, he stroked her cheek. “In fact, to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

A fit of shyness gripped her. Ginny laughed and lifted her glass. “Lavish compliments will get you everywhere.”

“It’s true.” Lex gestured at the silk chair facing the sweet-smelling fire. “Please, sit. We’ll sip champagne and get to know each other. Doesn’t the fire smell good? The fragrance is Applewood.”

“I’d like nothing better than to sit by the fire sipping champagne.” Liar, I’d love to see if that gorgeous mouth tastes as good as it looks. She sat where indicated and smiled up at the vision of a perfect male.

He sank onto the other chair, took a quick drink of his champagne, all the time, looking at her. “I have one sibling. You met Eugenie. She tries to hide but only succeeds in being notorious. Are you—”

“Notorious?” She giggled, the effervescence of the champagne making her happy and carefree. “Not I…not until tonight.”

He laughed and touched her hand. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor. Do you have brothers and sisters?” Apparently, he’d abandoned his earlier question.

“I have a younger brother, Bert the Bastard.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oops, that’s what I call him to myself. He’s okay, only spoiled to death.”

“Filial affection.” His laugh fired his eyes bluer. “I quite like the nickname Bert the Bastard. I’m sure if I had a spoiled brat brother, I’d call him the Royal Bastard, but since I’m the one spoiled to death…”

“Spoiled isn’t bad if you’re the spoilee.” She paused to sip her bubbly. “I know this will sound petty, but I feel that Bert will be ill prepared to face real life once he’s on his own.”

“I would be if I were disinherited and cast out to fend for myself.”

“You seem pretty self-sufficient.” She studied the bubbles rising in her glass.

“Appearances are often deceptive. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t live in the shadow of a crown, but you’ve made me rethink.” He toasted her again. “Salud, Ginny.”

“Salud, Lex.” Crystal chimed as she tapped her glass to his.

“What interests you?” Resting his flute on his leg, he leaned toward her. “What captures your imagination and passion?”

“It’s good to meet you relaxed and not on duty,” she said.

He smiled, enchanting her all over again. “It’s good to meet you relaxed. So, what’s your passion, Ginny?”

While she considered her answer, her gaze roamed her surroundings, landing on a rococo mantel clock as it chimed the half-hour. Already thirty minutes of her sojourn in heaven had rushed past. An almost panic gripped her to stay the golden hands on that clock. “I’m passionate about helping people, in the medical field whether as a physician or a researcher. I love a good book and wish I could write.” She glanced at a framed picture of Lex on his polo pony. “I could really get into riding, I think. Travel sparks my imagination. I enjoy sightseeing and running for the fun of it. Boring stuff really.”

“You’re certainly not boring. Helping people is a worthy goal. Your interests are many and varied.” He pointed at the polo picture. “My interests are displayed over this room.”

“But I don’t know how you feel about each one.” She shouldered back in her chair, holding the champagne flute to the firelight, watching the bubbles rising like sparks.

Suddenly, she realized how perfectly contented she was—in a world a galaxy away from her own. From his hobbies and passions, they segued to music, then theatre, and back to Replica. Surprisingly, he guided the conversation to the American Civil War. Sad to say, but he knew more about the period than she. Ginny decided to heed her grandmother’s counsel—shut up, listen, and not parade her ignorance.

“I’m reading a book about battles fought in your home state.” He gestured at a book perched beside a stack of mail on the corner of his desk. “It’s an engrossing read. I guess one of my many passions is military history.”

“I’ve never been a history buff. My strong suit was English. I probably don’t know the book, but please tell me.” She couldn’t stop staring at him in the firelight. The red-orange flames cast his dark hair to deep auburn.

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“No, no. Please.” She laughed softly, and with a gesture, signaled for him to continue. “You can enlighten me on my own history.”

“Remember you agreed.” He winked, and her heart did a cartwheel. “The first one I read about was the Battle of Rivers Bridge where Confederate troops made a valiant attempt to halt General William T. Sherman’s march across the Carolinas. They engaged on the banks of the Salkehatchie River in a bloody clash.” He paused to refill their champagne glasses. “Union forces then moved northward and captured the capital. In a few months, the Confederacy crumbled, and the Civil war ended.”

Light crept across the floor, and her heart sank. While she was engrossed in this man, the night had sailed by…and the dawn had found her falling in love.

He looked at the windows where dawn dared show her face. “I’m sorry, Ginny.” He rose and took her hand, guiding her to her feet. “I’ve kept you up all night.”

“We’ve kept each other up all night.” She loved the warmth and strength of his hand on hers. Unbidden images of those hands caressing her body sent a flush of heat over her.

He cupped her face in his hands and brushed his lips to hers. The brief sensation zipped from her head to the tips of her toes. She battled the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. Spellbound, she watched him straighten and smile.

“I’ve enjoyed our evening,” he said.

“It was a wonderful evening.” Lord, she wanted to hug him…and more. She wasn’t a very good seductress.

He sighed. “I’ll summon Marcus to return you to your room.”

The fall from heaven winded Ginny. Reality crashed at her feet—feet that had not touched the ground all night. Her night with Alexander Leandres was at an end. Tears burned her eyes. Damn if she’d let him see her cry.

He collected his phone from the table between them and summoned Marcus, and only minutes later, the dreaded knock sounded. She stiffened, fighting the tears lumped in her throat.

He brushed a fingertip down her cheek. “Your skin is as soft as it looks. You’ll come with the ambassador’s family to the retreat, of course.”

“Is that a royal command, Your Highness?” She tilted her chin and aimed a challenging grin at him. Her heart raced, dizzying and freefalling.

He grinned like an impish little boy. “It is. The trip will be much more interesting if you’re there.”

Still holding her hand, he walked her to the door. Even if John and Isabel accepted the royal invitation, she’d have no time alone with Lex. Snowy mountain resort conjured serious visions of skiing. Lex skied. Chrissy skied. Ginny had never learned to ski. The only time she’d tried, she’d skied all right! And perfectly, too—down the gentle slope backwards.

“Do you ski? The snow is perfect now for skiing.”

“I never learned.” She shrugged, feeling a little inadequate.

“I’ll feign illness. While the others enjoy the slopes, I’ll stay with you. It’ll be a perfect chance for us to spend some quality time together.” He pecked a kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, Ginny.”

“Goodnight, Lex.” This chance might never come again. She acted more from need than design, landing a sweet kiss just at the soft corner of Lex’s mouth.

He turned her into his arms. Another knock sounded. His lips glided across hers. He blew out a sigh and released her.

“Another night,” he said, and Ginny didn’t know if he was talking to her or to himself.

The journey back to her room was long and perilous. Servants were beginning to move about the palace. Marcus kept to the dim, deserted corridors, for which she was glad. The Ball had lasted past midnight. With any luck, John, Isabel, and Chrissy were still sleeping peacefully.

Ginny wasn’t tired. She was wired. She’d make it through this day on dreams alone.

***

The day following Ginny’s royal non-seduction, the King himself actually called the ambassador. Ginny and Chrissy had been taking turns helping out in the embassy office until John found the right match for an assistant. When the phone pring-pringed, Ginny answered. No tremor shook her voice as she said, “Your Majesty, I’ll connect you with the ambassador immediately.”

“Thank you. Miss MacDonald, isn’t it?” King Abelard apparently had a good memory. She could see why his subjects loved him.

“Yes, Sire. I hope you’re well today.” She smiled, thinking that she was speaking with Lex’s father. “The ambassador has yet to find an assistant.”

“You make a great assistant.” The King’s voice was very like Lex’s. “Perhaps, he should look close to home.”

“Thank you. I’ll connect you now. Have a splendid day.” Should she have added the pleasantry? Maybe, it wasn’t professional. She hurriedly dialed John’s extension. “The King is on line one. May I transfer him?”

“Of course.” He chuckled. “You are taking your job very seriously, aren’t you, Ginny? I may have to hire you.”

Hire me? That would mean I could stay in Desjardins! Lex had said the country had a good medical school. “Mr. Ambassador, I think I’d like that.”

She could stay and work for a year, start school, and with the money from this job, maybe head off some of the astronomic student loans. And she’d get to stay near Lex.

“Good, we’ll have to talk later.” He cleared his throat. “There’ll be tons of paperwork, but it is a government position and I think rewarding. Please put him through.”

Ginny could scarcely contain her excitement. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She connected the call, looked up into Chrissy’s sleepy eyes. “Hi. Awake yet?”

“Sort of.” Her friend yawned and stretched. “You’re bright-eyed and bushytailed this morning. What time did you get to bed? Your light was off when I hit the sheets.”

She glanced at the computer clock. Eleven. “You’re the sleepy head.”

She’d been awake all night—little did anyone know! Her eyes were tired, but she was sailing 30,000 feet above sea level with only dreams beneath her wings. An image of the firelight room, of the enchanting man, and a memory of the ticking clock settled before her eyes. A pang of guilt pricked her, but there was nothing to regret. To tell the truth, she halfway regretted that there was nothing to regret.

Chrissy was her best friend. They could talk about anything. Except Alexander.

Five minutes later, John emerged from his study and propped his hands on Ginny’s desk. “Pack your bags, ladies, we’re going to the King’s private retreat in the Alps for the weekend. I know this will disappoint you, but Prince Alexander will be our escort.”

Chrissy tossed Ginny a glance and held up a high-five. “That’s wonderful, Dad,” and she engulfed her father in a perfumed hug, then stood back, with a broad Cheshire Cat grin.

John glanced from one to the other. “Okay, looks like a conspiracy here. Which of you has set her cap for the prince?”

“Prince?” Chrissy shrugged and rolled her eyes. “What prince?”

“One of you must be very happy he’s our host.” He looked at Ginny, and she tensed, fear of discovery shivering down her backbone. “Now, Ginny, about being my receptionist. The King complimented me on your performance. Let’s make a deal.”

***

Alexander’s POV

When Ginny left at dawn, I ordered coffee from the kitchen. Today, duty lay heavily on my shoulders. At noon, I was scheduled to speak at a benefit for victims of Multiple Sclerosis. My speech was committed to memory. I’d simply arrive with bloodshot eyes. The media had made certain the world was well-informed of my peccadillos. What was one more? Was carrying on a stimulating conversation all night with a beautiful woman an indulgence? I’d been a perfect gentleman. No hot bedroom scenes for Ginny and me. I’d left her as innocent as she entered my chambers—a rare occurrence indeed.

At eleven, the Bentley transported me to the benefit. As the black car wove through the capital city, some recognized either the vehicle or the passenger and waved. Thinking about the horrible situation the suffers of MS faced dimmed my mood. To shake the feeling, I occupied the short drive thinking of Ginny and how pleasant our evening had been.

The Chairman of the affair guided me to a small room beneath the stage. With nothing but coffee for breakfast, I appreciated the finger sandwiches arranged on a clear plastic tray almost as much as the chilled white wine in a cooler. I chose a salmon and cucumber from the selection.

Images of Ginny in her long amber dress entertained me while I waited to be introduced. It has been an effort of sheer will not to kiss her. I’d controlled the desire for her in my arms, in my bed, and starring on the next stage in my life. Before she’d arrived, I’d made one resolution. I would not seduce her but wait for her to come to me.

A round of applause snapped me to the present. Since I was twelve, I’d performed various functions. I rehearsed my speech quickly in my head, then rose to pace while a rather lengthy introduction dragged on. The crowd applauded louder. The Chairman knocked, peered into the little chamber, and beckoned.

Prince Alexander Leandres on stage…again.

We climbed narrow cement stairs to the podium, our footsteps echoing in the stairwell. I took my place front and center. The Chairman introduced me. I stepped up to the microphone. The assembly cheered, some chanting my name. The Chairman lifted a hand.

Having written my speech, I was a bit nervous about the opening line. “I didn’t want to come here today.”

Shock flitted across upturned faces. Eyes widened. People whispered behind their hands.

I continued, “I can see this disturbs you. The reason I wanted to refuse when I opened the invitation is I mistakenly believed that it would be a sad occasion. Since April, I have learned a lot about MS. I awoke this morning eager to meet the people who knew firsthand. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a happy occasion. A cure for the disease will be found if we band together to hunt this killer.”

The speech lasted twenty minutes. At the conclusion, I received a standing ovation. With applause still echoing, I left the stage and descended to greet the sufferers and their caregivers. Some were in wheelchairs. Ginny’s face flashed in memory. Her passion was helping people. Perhaps, people like these. At that moment, I desperately wanted to embrace these victims of a crippler and cold-blooded killer. Of course, it was impossible, but I’d never forget the hope in their eyes or the demonstration of the love they showed their Heir Apparent. The crown weighed less heavily on my head.

As I walked with the Chairman to the car, a young woman hung over the barrier and handed me a single red rose. “I love you, Alexander,” she screamed, then security dragged her back from the yellow tape that served as a barricade.

I stopped, met her gaze. Tears floated in her eyes. She was scarcely more than a girl. Her hair was long and brown as her eyes. “Roses are my favorite. You’re very brave to express your affection. I’m humbled, Miss?”

“Sophie,” she said and smiled through her tears.

On impulse, I brought the flower to my lips. “Thank you, Sophie.”

Poor Sophie was doomed to fame. This afternoon, her face would be splashed across the world’s tabloids. Security moved me along toward the waiting car. I hoped there was champagne in the Bentley. I saw Ginny sipping champers, the firelight torching her copper hair. She’d carved tracks in my mind, and I couldn’t seem to banish her from my thoughts. Remembering her laugh, her passion, and the intensity in her green eyes when she looked at me made me wish that she, along with the champagne, waited in the car for me.

***

Ginny’s POV

The second time the King himself called the ambassador, Ginny was on duty. John had offered, and she had accepted the position as his assistant at the U.S. Ambassadorship in Desjardins. The same day, she began inquiring into medical schools. This arrangement should work out very well. She was very excited about beginning classes here in Desjardins in the fall.

She was surprised when the King actually asked, “Do you ski, Miss MacDonald?”

“No, sire, I never learned.”

“My assistant has called Eugenie’s personal trainer. You can learn.”

A peculiar quiver played in Ginny’s stomach. “Yes, that would be great.”

“My son is an excellent instructor as well. You’ll have no problems.”

Ginny’s heart had caught on “my son”. Her mind raced. The King had actually chatted with her. Not assistant to assistant. If only Lex would call… Smarten up. That will never happen. Still, Ginny stared into space, daydreaming of a handsome impossibility.

Soon, John strolled out of his office, halting at her desk. He was a kind and gentle man, and Ginny had always been fond of him. Now that she was his employee, nothing had changed. Bracing a palm on the desk’s black-and-salmon marble surface beside her red stapler, he straightened the matching pen holder.

“Call Isabel and Chrissy—I thought she’d have graced us with her presence by now. Can you be ready tomorrow? Apparently, a snowfall is predicted in the mountains, making winter sports ideal.” He turned back to Ginny. “You don’t ski, do you?”

She shook her head.

“I’m here, Dad.” Chrissy wandered into the office. “What’s up?”

“Skiing,” Ginny said, trying to keep the reluctance from her voice.

“You can learn.” John smiled broadly and patted her hand still resting on the phone.

What in the world would she wear?

Lex would be their host. She needed to dress to impress, but a snowsuit? She didn’t own one, and there was little time to get one. “Maybe I won’t fall on my ass and make indelible butt prints in the snow—the mark I’ll leave on this world.”

Chrissy laughed. “You only skied backwards once in your life. You’ll be fine.”

Ginny nodded uncertainly. Her thoughts trailed back to her wardrobe. Could she scare up a nice negligee?—a change from her usual t-shirt and panties would be a fine thing. Though Lex had mentioned lingering behind, he was the ski master. He had to be on the slopes. She might as well face that alone time with her handsome prince wasn’t going to happen. They’d be lucky to utter two private words.