Chapter 7

Anticipation like a plucked string thrummed in Ginny, vibrating shrilly along her nerves. A liveried chauffeur handed them into the back of a gleaming black limo. The ambassador slid onto the soft tan leather seat across from his wife. Ginny inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the scent of fine leather and lots of money.

The driver half-turned, saying over his shoulder, “I am Pierre. It is my pleasure to drive you to the palace. In that small compartment dividing the seat, you will find refreshments. Depending on traffic, our ETA is five to ten minutes from now.”

The limo wound through the streets of the capital city, past old cathedrals, high rises, stately houses, and swanky restaurants, to emerge onto the broad avenue leading to the palace. Desjardins might be a small country, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in attitude. The principality, renowned for glitz, glamor, and its screaming hedonism, was a sovereign state with its own flag and national anthem. Taxes were low. The people on the street looked happy. Why not? They lived in a prosperous country. A walk down the streets of Saint Delacorte was a parade of nimble sports cars and luxury sedans.

Ginny loved it.

But not as much as she loved its Heir Apparent. If he’d been a penniless nobody, her feelings wouldn’t have changed. In fact, her dream romance would have been far easier to realize if they’d both been poor church mice. They could be as in the country song, like sparrows in a hurricane.

The driver parked by a side entrance to the Palais du Roma, avoiding the tourists pouring into the gardens and gawking at the structure where kings, queens, and a prince lived. She found herself chewing on a thumbnail and folded her hands in her lap. Soon, he’d emerge from that regal building, and they’d be face-to-face once more.

As if she’d conjured him, suddenly he was there, striding toward the limo with Marcus in attendance. Chrissy elbowed her ribs, nodding at the handsomest man in the world. While his manservant loaded Lex’s luggage into the trunk, the chauffeur opened the door for the prince to sit beside the ambassador facing his guests.

“Good morning all. It’s a short drive to the airport.” His blue gaze drifted over each face. “After a brief flight, we’ll SUV to the retreat. I’m glad you could join me, Ambassador, Mrs. Calhoun, Chrissy and Ginny. I trust you’ll enjoy a few days away from the city.”

Like the President’s Air Force One, but probably smaller, the Desjardins royal family owned a sumptuous private jet, and inside, the King’s guests were treated like royalty. Food—from caviar to smoked salmon; drinks—a fully stocked bar and a pretty bartender. Once, Ginny even saw John’s eyes stray to the blonde’s tasteful minidress. And best of the best, she was seated across from Alexander, so that she could enjoy simply looking at him.

The Lear whisked them to the snowcapped mountains. The brisk, refreshing air invigorated, but Ginny couldn’t be any more excited.

The SUV seated eight. The ambassador and Isabel sat side-by-side with Chrissy behind them. When Ginny started to climb in beside her friend, Lex arrested her with a hand at her elbow. His eyes sparkled like blue diamonds; his hair was so very dark against the white-white snow.

“Ginny, take pity on poor Marcus. Chrissy, is it okay if he rides with you? That saves his riding in the far back. Ginny, hop in.” He held the door, indicating the passenger seat.

She hopped without asking how high. When she was perched in the leather-comfort of the seat, he reached across her and fastened her seatbelt. “There you go. The roads get a bit rough. Wouldn’t want you rattling around like a pea.”

She watched him stride regally around the hood. Hot damn! Was her tongue hanging out?

Lex smiled at her as he piloted the SUV up the mountain. What more was there to ask? She was happier than anyone had a right to be. Only a month ago, she’d merely dreamed of this day with no forewarning that she’d actually be looking into Lex’s eyes.

When they arrived at their destination, he unclipped her seatbelt without touching her, dang it. Then Chrissy whined that she was having trouble with her belt, and he assisted her, too. But he’d freed Ginny without being asked.

That first day at the Retreat, they relaxed by a fire roaring in a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. The scents of the Applewood logs glowing on the hearth and the cedar walls of the log cabin combined in a perfume Ginny would never forget. Rustic leather furnishings and lovely pastoral art produced a comfortable and soothing air. She wrapped each memory in velvet to be stored away like precious jewels that could be taken out and savored later.

From the ornate mahogany bar, the ambassador delivered fine Spanish sherry to his wife and daughter. Light sparkled on the facets of the crystal sherry glass Lex handed Ginny. She felt quite privileged to be served by the crown prince of Desjardins himself. Though she was last to be served, he made her feel as if she was the first. Chrissy shot her an odd look.

“To warm you on this chilly evening.” He glanced at the window, sipping his sherry. “It’s still snowing.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the drink. “The snow is beautiful, isn’t it? We don’t get falls this deep at home.”

They exchanged a glance she hoped no one would notice. As if they had been lovers, the brief touch of their fingers and the innuendo of intimacy thrilled Ginny. He didn’t pay her any special attention really. He couldn’t, but they had shared a night from midnight to morning. Surely that miraculous space out of time had formed some kind of bond.

A crackling fire, the sherry and snow building shapes on the windowsills lulled them. The mood was quiet, conversation sporadic. You could almost see stress fade from each face as they sipped their drinks. Lex excused himself to make a quick call. When he returned, he stopped by Chrissy, sitting on the sofa.

“May I?” He smiled a charming, melting smile that no woman could resist.

Chrissy slid over to give him room on the sofa beside her. “Please.”

Ginny kicked herself for sitting in a chair. If she’d taken the sofa, she’d be sitting with Lex right now. If he’d asked her, she wouldn’t have scooted over very far. His smile drifted around his guests. The prince appeared more relaxed and content than she’d ever seen him. The retreat must be his happy place. He sure looked good in this or any other state of mind.

“I’d planned to hike tomorrow, but Mother Nature had other ideas.” He shrugged. “However, the snow is perfect for a turn on the slopes.”

“So, we’re going skiing?” Ginny tried to keep her voice from shaking. Trepidation was a mild word for outright fear.

“Absolutely…if everyone agrees to conquering the mountain.” Lex’s indigo eyes met hers over the rim of his glass, the firelight caressing the classic lines of his face. After an affirmative chorus from his guests, he lifted his glass to the only abstainer, Ginny. “To skiing the Alps tomorrow. Ginny, would you like to try the lower slopes?”

What had happened to his playing sick and spending the day together? Her heart rock-bottomed in her stomach. Why would he toy with her this way? Because he just wasn’t that into her? Wouldn’t the Playboy Prince would have tried to seduce her if he were?

“I’ll teach you.” He sat forward, smiling. “Fair warning. I ski much better than I instruct. I’ve been skiing since I was a child. Everyone in Desjardins skis and swims.”

“I’ll try but I’m not very athletic.” She wanted to drain her sherry glass for liquid courage but knocking back a cordial wouldn’t be very ladylike. “I do swim.”

“And wear itsy bitsy bikinis.” Chrissy grimaced, the statement sounding strangely like an accusation.

Lex smiled as if Ginny were the only woman in the world. “Itsy bitsy bikinis are the norm on our beaches. Unless you count the topless ones. Shall we all go swimming when we return to Saint Delacorte?”

“I don’t swim,” Chrissy said, studying her bright red nails. “Mother is afraid of water, and I never learned.”

On the sofa beside her daughter, Isabel stiffened. “I almost drowned as a child,” she explained. “Maybe you can teach Chrissy to swim, Prince Alexander.”

“Please call me Lex. May I call you Isabel?” He shook back his dark hair Even in casual clothes, the man was elegant. She supposed it came with the territory. He turned to her friend.

“I’d very much like to learn,” Chrissy said and batted her lashes.

“I’ll try, but I must warn you. Like skiing, I swim better than I teach.” He rose, cradling his glass in his long fingers. “More sherry anyone?”

A soft tap at the door halted Lex on his way to the bar. “Come.”

Everyone turned as a rotund woman in a pristine white apron took one step over the threshold. An embroidered white snood covered her graying hair. A pleasant smile showed girlish dimples. “Pardon, sir. Dinner is served in the dining room.”

“I’ll take it from here, Elsa.” Marcus seemed to simply appear at her elbow. “If you please,” he said and stood aside with a little bow.

Marcus then showed them to the cozy dining room and served them from steaming tureens. She thought she recognized the pattern as an English fine china. Its deep red roses and gold accents were perfect for the atmosphere. The starter was a delicious tomato bisque. The main course consisted of roast venison in a port sauce, twice baked potatoes, sautéed squash, and spinach. Marcus stood by, waiting to serve another helping, but Ginny didn’t think she’d ever need to eat another bite.

“Retraite is too intimate…” Lex glanced at her, then his smile trailed around his guests. “To be armed with a battery of servants. Quite often we serve ourselves.”

Ginny struggled not to laugh. In five words, he’d conveyed the attitudes that separated him from the common man. He seemed to assume everyone had servants.

***

The day after their arrival, they convened in a sunny smaller room for breakfast. Ginny had dressed warmly, dreading the terrifying skiing adventure. Again, Marcus served them.

“I’ve been out this morning to check skiing conditions,” Lex said as he cut a piece of smoked salmon. “Unfortunately, the snow is Dust on Crust.” He must have seen their confused expressions and explained, “A light dusting of fresh snow on crusted or concrete snow. Since none of you is experienced, I’d recommend we find something else to occupy our time today. Would anyone be interested in a sleigh ride?”

A chorus of enthusiastic affirmative answers circled the table, and after breakfast, they retired to their rooms to change. Ginny had laid out her warmest wear for the much-dreaded ski ordeal, but now she grabbed jeans and a thick sweater from the rustic, antique chifforobe by the door, tossing them on the handmade quilt on the matching bed.

When her phone buzzed for a text, she was prepared to dictate, “What are you wearing, girlfriend?” But the text wasn’t from Chrissy. It read, “Are you alone? I need to call. L.” There was only one L at the retreat. Her heart lurched, and her knees washed weak. Collapsing on the edge of the bed, she typed, “Yes,” and hugged the phone waiting for it to ring. It jingled, and the pitter-patter of her pulse lurched into a gallop.

“I’d like to take you on a ride alone,” Lex said quickly. “I have a plan of sorts. Can you pretend to be ill? When I text K, you’ll come to the stables and hop into the sleigh. I’ll cluck to Midnight and Mourning, and away we’ll go. Simple as that.” He chuckled. “If it works.”

Ginny frowned, her mind racing. “Okay, but Chrissy will want to ride with us.”

“We must make a fast getaway.”

“See you later then.” She lay back on the bed, still hugging her phone. This was not going to be easy to pull off, but if he wanted to ride with her alone, she’d break her neck getting into that sleigh before Chrissy had time to spoil it. Excitement shivered over her. A snow ride with a handsome prince. Oh, please, Fairy Godmother, she prayed, don’t let my fairytale end!

“If only I had my hooded cape, I could play royal mistress again.” She watched from the window as the Calhouns gathered in the stable yard. Brilliant morning sun glittered on the new-fallen snow and on gold accents on the ornate white sleigh. At the sight of Lex, her heart thundered faster. His hair had grown longer—brushing the collar of his fisherman’s sweater—since the Spring Ball. His long, muscled legs and tight ass looked double fine in what appeared to be snug black jeans. Oh, yes, he cut a dashing figure as he strode across the cobbled courtyard and took the reins of two gleaming black horses from a groom.

An hour later, Ginny felt like a liar, hopefully not a fool, as she trotted across the stable yard toward the log stables. The day had warmed, but a brisk breeze cooled her feverish cheeks and played with her ponytail. The horses’ breath fogged in the air. She focused on the beautiful black horses hitched to the sleigh to keep from staring longingly at Lex, in the driver’s seat. They had long manes and tails and crested necks, truly fairytale animals. “Hi everyone. I feel much better. Hope I didn’t miss the sleigh ride,” she called.

“By about ten minutes,” Chrissy patted her shoulder. “Sorry, Ginny.”

Still seated in the sleigh, team in hand, Lex leapt into the pause. “The horses are still hitched. Hop in, Ginny. I’ll take you for a quick ride.”

Quick was the word of the moment. Before Chrissy could ask to go along, Ginny was in the sleigh. Just as quickly, Lex signaled the horses away at a fast clip. Behind them, they heard Chrissy calling, but, at that moment, their eyes met, and they both went selectively deaf. Suppressing laughter, they darted from the courtyard like Bonnie and Clyde on Christmas Morn.

Ginny laughed, clapping her gloved hands. “Now that was a fast getaway, Clyde.”

“Clyde?” He frowned, shaking his head. “I’m not Clyde.” He grinned his sexiest grin. “Do you still want to ride with me?”

She laughed, closed her eyes, and turned her face up to the sun. She felt wild and free, excited to the point of giddiness. “Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were nineteenth-century bank robbers who traveled the Central United States with their gang during the Great Depression. The press glamorized her as a cigar-smoking, machine-yielding babe. They were finally killed when the law ambushed them in Louisiana.”

He smiled, his blue eyes dazzling. “You might say you’re not into history, but that sounds like history to me.”

The horses clopped along at a brisk trot, their hooves spraying snow. The sleigh glided over the harder snow beneath as if they rode on air. The winter-wonderland silence embraced Ginny. It seemed a sin to speak, but the clock kept track and time was running away fast.

“Lex.” She looked down at mittened-hands. “Are you never going to kiss me?”

Ginny’s own Prince Charming didn’t argue that he’d kissed her the night they talked. In fact, he said nothing. He reined the horses to a stop in a copse of trees and turned to her. For several heartbeats, he stared into her eyes, then, still holding the reins in one hand, reached behind her head with the other and urged her into a searing kiss. When he finally broke away, they were both breathless and needing more. Passion sizzled eye-to-eye. A glance down told her that he was thinking exactly what she was thinking. At that tense, glorious moment, a horse snorted and stamped his hoof, rocking the sleigh.

“I guess that’s our wakeup call.” He touched his lips to hers and drew back.

She cupped a hand to her ear. “Reality is calling.”

At that moment, Ginny’s phone rang, and Chrissy said, “Mom and Dad returned to the house. I’m waiting for y’all at the barn. Thomas is showing me around, but it’s damn chilly.”

“Chrissy, go to the house. I might ride all day,” Ginny said with a little laugh and tapped End Call. “I’ll tell her we were disconnected.”

Smiling wickedly, Lex leaned for another quick kiss. A shock of awareness—of his presence, of the silence, and of the perfectness of the day—hit Ginny, and her eyes misted. When he’d intended to brush his lips to hers, she moved into the kiss. He cupped her face between his index finger and thumb, deepening their last winter-wonderland kiss, then he sat back and breathed a long sigh.

“Ginny, Ginny, you don’t know what you to me.” He shouldered back in his seat, taking the reins in both hands. “I suppose we must return. But it’s the last thing I want to do. Unless there was brandy, a roaring fire, and a soft rug on the hearth in the picture.”

“I know, right?” She laughed softly and sat back. “What kind of horses are these?”

“Friesians. Originally bred as carriage horses in The Netherlands. They’re spectacular, aren’t they? Look how elegantly they move. Speaking of moving.” He laughed. “We have to make up for lost time.”

He clucked, signaling the horses. They moved out smoothly at a trot, but soon, he cued the Friesians for a faster gait. They responded with a very high, rolling canter.

Ginny snatched off her stocking cap, shaking her hair in the wind, and laughing. “Let’s just pass the barn and keep going.” She smoothed a hand over his hair, leaned over, and planted a big kiss on his mouth. “This is exhilarating.”

“Yes, it is.” He reined the horses to a sedate trot as they neared the stable yard, but the look he sent her was like another kiss.

Back at the retreat, they rested with a sherry, enjoyed an enchanting meal, and a new side of Lex appeared. Their host kept conversation flowing smoothly. She suspected the witty man emerging while they sipped cocktails was his stage persona, the aspect he’d been taught from birth. She tried to talk some sense into her romantic soul and had almost succeeded when he captured her gaze and gave her that you’re the only woman in my world smile, and she fell in love all over again.

***

Midnight came and went, but Ginny lay awake, tortured by what might have been. Regret shaded the perfect day. Soon all this would end. She set her phone to vibrate and switched off the bedside lamp with a sigh but sleep still eluded her. In the semi-darkness, she slipped from bed and crossed to the window. A full moon—cold and wintry white—kissed the tops of the snowy mountains. The beauty of the scene robbed her of breath. She sank down in the window seat and rested her shoulder against the chill glass.

“Moon Goddess,” she whispered, “I’m a basket case.”

Tonight, her heart was too full. The realization of how hopeless her situation was only made her want to cry. Why had she accepted the position with the ambassador when she should go home and carry on with her life? Desjardins wasn’t a recurring dream. After they returned to Saint Delacorte, she might never meet the prince again on other than embassy business.

Her phone buzzed loud, the sound amplified by the rustic wooden table. Ginny started upright. What did Chrissy want when they should be asleep? By moonlight, she navigated across the room, scooped up her phone, and tapped the green button. “Hello, Chrissy. Yes, I’m awake, too. Having a bad dream?” I am.

A melodic, sensually male laugh greeted her. “Everyone is dreaming sweetly. I’m coming to your room. I need you, Ginny.” Lex paused. “I know someone must have warned you to stay away from me. You’ve been very distant. Don’t listen. I’d stand with you on the balcony of the palace tomorrow if I were allowed.”

“Whoa. I’m your secret. You’re mine. Mostly for the same reasons.” She paused, trying to get at least one thought straight. “I thought you’d been distant.” That wasn’t the right thing to say. What was? “I want to see you, too. Be careful.”

Could it be possible? Had Lex longed for her as much as she’d yearned for him? One thing for certain, a miracle was in progress. She stilled her trembling hands by folding them in front of her and perched on the edge of the bed, scarcely breathing. Excitement quivered in her stomach. Finally, it was going to happen. They were going to be alone together again, and she was frightened something would go wrong.

She rose, paced to the window, made the long moonlight journey back to the door, listening. Her pulse was at runaway speed, pounding loud in her ears. There! A step on the stairs. Ginny tensed, not knowing what to say before they fell into her bed. If they fell into bed. If not… A soft knock at the door, then men’s voices lowered in deference to midnight.

“Prince,” John said. “Is there a problem? May I help you in some way?”

“Ambassador.” There was an infinitesimal pause, then, “Nothing is wrong.” Lex uttered a soft laugh. “I couldn’t sleep and wanted to read. A couple of weeks ago, I was banished to a guest room while mine was redecorated. I’ve come to fetch the book I think I left on a bedside table. I apologize for waking you.”

“I was awake. Isabel isn’t feeling well.” John didn’t sound convinced. His short laugh was strained. “Marcus put Ginny in that room. I hope the book isn’t there. She’s probably asleep.”

“Then it’s not important.” A slight change shaded Lex’s voice more royal. “I bid you goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Lex.”

Ginny’s heart plummeted. The throbbing awareness faded. She imagined John’s knowing expression. Unlikely he’d believed the prince. What did he believe? She acted without thinking, opening the door in her clingy satin robe. ”I thought I heard voices, and I didn’t think they were in my head.”

John pursed his lips on a smile—his indulgent look—and Lex laughed.

“Sorry to wake you, Ginny.” Her handsome prince was still dressed in tight black Jeans and a cable-knit sweater and looked perfectly scrumptious. “Is there a book on your bedside table by chance?”

“I wasn’t asleep.” She wanted to brush that soft curl back from his cheek. “I haven’t noticed a book, but please come in and check.” She stepped aside, waving him inside.

John remained where he stood. Ginny followed Lex into the room, wishing she could lock the door behind her. He strode to the bedside table and waited until she was within kissing distance. There was no time for words, no need for them. He glanced over her shoulder to see if they were alone, then moved into her. She watched his lips coming for hers, and molten desire swept her beyond the point of no return. His mouth brushed hers, fled, returned more demanding. His hand rested for a moment on her breast. When the sweet, swift caress disappeared, she could still feel his touch, taste his kiss. He held her back, gazing into her eyes, then shook his head. As he turned away, she glanced at the apex of his long legs. An erection bunched to the right of his zipper. He winked and hurried to the door.

Slowly, she crossed the room. It was going to be a long night. To get this close and be denied heaven was hell. She closed the door but didn’t shoot the bolt. Just in case.

In the hall, Lex told John, “I checked the room, and the book wasn’t there. Again, I apologize for disturbing you…and Ginny.”

She traced her lower lip with a fingertip, remembering his kiss. Prince Alexander of Desjardins was everything she’d dreamed. And more. Now, all she had to do was succeed his incumbent mistress.