The Making of a Princess. Teresa Carpenter

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      “I said no.”

      “Why not?” Amanda worked hard to keep the pleading from her voice. Grandmother would latch onto any sign of weakness.

      “They’re private.” She stated stiffly.

      “She’s dead, Grandmother.” Amanda made it a gentle reminder. “I think she’d want me to have them.”

      “It’s out of the question.”

      The no give attitude finally spiked Amanda’s temper.

      “Now who’s being stubborn?” she demanded. “You won’t tell me about her, but I can’t read the journals. She’s my mother! Would you have wanted her to have no knowledge of you? Can’t you understand that my knowing her doesn’t take anything away from you?”

      When there was no answer, Amanda shook her head sadly. “Enjoy your dinner. I’m afraid I can’t stay.” She walked to the closet for her coat and purse.

      “Don’t you dare leave,” Grandmother snapped. “My guests are expecting to meet you.”

      “Regarding a job I don’t want.” Amanda’s stomach roiled and her voice shook, but she stood up to her grandmother. Stood up for herself. “Just tell them I didn’t care to talk about it. That always works for you.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      “THIS IS AMAZING.” Amanda stopped next to Xavier. They stood in front of the glass display of the royal crown of Pasadonia. She whispered, otherwise her voice echoed through the cavernous room.

      After dinner, he’d brought her here to the museum for a personal after hours tour of the crown jewels. They were alone except for the night security—two guards who stood at opposite ends of the vast room.

      She’d like to think her decision to keep their date came from carefully considered deliberation, but the truth was he drew her more than anyone she’d ever met. And it gave her great pleasure knowing Grandmother would heartily disapprove.

      It may be petty, but Amanda didn’t care.

      And she was having a really good time.

      “The jewels are stunning.” Hands behind her back, she leaned forward to study the three crowns on display. “The workmanship is exquisite.”

      “Only the highest quality gems are used in the making of the royal crowns. Pasadonia uses the same jeweller and silversmith as the Royal house of Britain. There are over two thousand precious gems in the coronation crown, known as the St. Martin.”

      “St. Martin of Tours, patron saint of soldiers.” She strolled on to a display of scepters. At his questioning look she confessed, “I did a Google search.”

      “Yes. We are a small country but we have held our own through the centuries.”

      “Le Valliant allié.” She read on the shaft of a gleaming gold scepter. “The valiant ally.”

      “Our motto, and a way of life. We believe in making friends not enemies.”

      “A nice sentiment,” she nodded and moved on to a cabinet of daggers, the decorative knives were as beautiful as they were lethal. “But in my experience politics aren’t that easy. It’s not always possible to be everyone’s friend.”

      “Perhaps not, but when you control a neutral port in the Gulf of Lions, it is possible to avoid making enemies.”

      “I would think that would make you all the more vulnerable to invasion.”

      He inclined his dark head. “As I said, we are small but we held our own. Pasadonia has always had a strong militia. We are fierce fighters.”

      “To this day?” she asked curiously. Looking at his profile she saw the pride in him, and when he turned his golden gaze her way, she saw the fierceness he spoke of.

      So why had she sensed an underlying tension when he’d talked of his family’s history in the royal guard?

      “Yes,” he said simply. “Pasadonia has all the problems of any nation in these days of unrest. Terrorism is a universal issue. Our Prince is a vocal member of the International Security Consortium. Our militia must be ever vigilant.”

      “Of course.” How small-minded of her not to associate big world problems with a small principality.

      “We protect our Prince. We protect our borders. We protect and aid our citizens.” He gestured to the elaborate exhibit. “We protect our national resources. We stand in the middle of Pasadonia right now. These are my country’s treasures. They are my responsibility. I will protect them with my life as I would if we were in my homeland.”

      “I can see you’re very dedicated.” She placed her hand on his, where it rested on the corner of a display case. “Your country has beautiful treasures. Considering the uncertain times, I’m actually surprised your Prince would send the jewels on tour.”

      “Tourism is a large part of our economy. With people traveling less these days, our economy was suffering. The tour has generated a large influx of necessary income.”

      “Your Prince is smart to use the riches of your history to finance your current and future needs. From what I’ve read the tour has been incredibly successful.”

      “It has. My Prince is very pleased with the generosity of your country and its citizens.”

      She laughed. “Americans are fascinated by all things royal. Probably because it’s not something we’ve ever known.”

      The next turn took them by the tiaras. Diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and rubies looped and swooped in delicate designs, layering gem upon gem so it glittered like fallen stars.

      “Oh.” Again she clasped her hands behind her back, an old habit to keep from reaching for something she shouldn’t touch.

      He tugged on her fingers. “I am sorry I cannot let you handle the jewels.”

      She grinned at him. “I’d love that, but I understand. I used to dream of being a princess when I was little. All little girls do.” She glanced at the brilliant display, sighed. “I never imagined anything this elaborate. This beautiful.”

      “Ah, so you are all grown up now? There are no more dreams of tiaras, ballgowns, or finding prince charming?” His expression remained somber, but the words teased.

      “Not for a long time. Not for me anyway.” She looked at him, and then away, while heat flowed into her cheeks as she confessed, “My favorite play time princess was Rapunzel until one day I realized I related to her because I also felt trapped.”

      “Amanda.” He immediately took her elbow, turned her to face him. “Has someone hurt you?”

      His intensity made it clear he was ready to do something about it if someone had.

      She shook her head, gently touched his cheek in gratitude for his concern. “No. But my upbringing was very strict. My grandparents are very traditional.”

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