The Makeover Mission. Mary Buckham

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СКАЧАТЬ not late.” He glanced at his watch and added, “In fact, you’re almost two hours early by Elena time.”

      “Elena time?” The question came out a little breathlessly as she scooted into the closest chair, hating the fact she could feel perspiration clinging to the back of her silk shirt. “Just what is Elena time?”

      “Simple. It’s always two hours after everyone else has assembled.”

      “You mean Ele—” she quickly glanced around the room, noting Ekaterina had already left them before she lowered her voice and continued, “You mean I’m habitually late?”

      “No.” He reached for a croissant nestled in a basket. “Being late implies you know when a function is scheduled to begin. Elena time is an orchestrated move guaranteed to let all and sundry know that the most important person has just arrived. It’s a very effective ploy.”

      He said it so calmly, she thought. Such slashing, cruel words would have devastated her. But she wasn’t really Elena, she reminded herself, reaching for the carafe of coffee.

      “I don’t know if I can do that.” She hadn’t realized she’d voiced her thoughts aloud until the major shot her one of his enigmatic glances.

      “We’ll make excuses for such inconsistencies.”

      She spread butter on a croissant and shook her head when he offered her some jam. “I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot of explaining to do.”

      “We’ll take care of it.”

      All too clearly she remembered the king’s cryptic comment from that small, cramped room. “Your job is to fix problems.”

      Major McConneghy appeared perfect for his job.

      “You’re wearing perfume.”

      Leave it to a man like McConneghy to notice, she thought, feeling the heat begin to climb into her face.

      “Ekaterina said it’s my favorite.”

      “It suits you.” He looked at her over the rim of his cup. “Enticing yet innocent. Though smelling of sunshine and soap also suits you.”

      Not sure what he meant by his words, or if she was ready to know, she quickly changed the subject. “What’s on the schedule today?”

      “Drills.”

      “Drills?”

      “A future queen must know how to walk, to talk, to address her superiors and inferiors. There is a lot to learn.”

      Jane wanted to groan aloud. Somehow she thought it’d all make more sense by the light of day. But it didn’t.

      As if he guessed her thoughts he pitched his voice lower. “The more you learn now, the less likely you’ll make a mistake later.”

      Like she needed reminding.

      “Fine.” The word came out sharp. “Let’s get started then.”

      “First, you eat something.” He spoke as if talking to a child. “We have a long day ahead of us and I won’t have you fainting on me.”

      “I’ve never fainted in my life.”

      He leaned forward. “You’ve never taken lessons in deportment before, either.”

      Jeesh. How hard could it be? she thought, picking up and biting into a ripe plum. Being a queen couldn’t be that much harder than actually working for a living. Could it?

      She found out several hours later.

      If she’d thought the major was diabolical before, it was nothing to what she felt about him after four straight hours of “drill.” The man was a sadist.

      Stand. Sit. Walk straight. Curtsey. Smile. Wave. Stand up straighter. Who’d have thought there was a way to graciously sit in a chair by approaching it backwards. Or three different kinds of waves to use when communicating from far away. Or six kinds of forks to choose from at official state dinners.

      Her jaw hurt from smiling. Her fingers cramped from waving and gesturing. Her knees ached from rising and lowering herself into five different kinds of chairs.

      And all through it Major Lucius McConneghy just kept saying, “Now do it again.”

      She wanted to throttle him.

      By the time they took a break for a light lunch she felt as if running a marathon, cold turkey, would be better than being a queen-to-be.

      As if he read her thoughts, a talent he was particularly adept at, McConneghy handed her a slice of cheese and said. “This morning was easy compared to what’s coming.”

      The man was a font of good news.

      “Didn’t your parents ever tell you if you couldn’t say something nice, not to say anything at all?” she snapped back, too tired to care about the tone of her voice.

      He actually had the gall to smile. Something that made little butterflies spring to life in her stomach, fluttering around the knots already there.

      But he didn’t respond directly. Instead he looked at a clipboard in his hand. “This afternoon the hair stylist will be here. And the manicurist.”

      Without thinking Jane’s hands reached for the ends of her hair. “Don’t tell me Elena has one of those short, chic haircuts.”

      “You’re Elena and no.” His eyes swept over her in a way that made her want to blush and stammer before his cold, matter-of-fact voice added. “There won’t be much change.”

      “How are you explaining the need to…” she waved her hands before her. “The need to fix me?”

      “These are not Elena’s regular people,” he replied. “We couldn’t risk them noting the differences.”

      The man thought of everything.

      “Come on,” he motioned before she’d even finished her last bite, one she didn’t even taste over the exhaustion she felt. “Let’s get going again.”

      “Sadist,” she mumbled to herself.

      At least she thought no one had heard, until he speared her with one of those penetrating gray-eyed glares. “Sadism would be to let you walk into a situation without any preparation. I’d prefer to think of this as protecting you.”

      She mulled over his words the rest of the afternoon, keeping her own opinions to herself. It was too much effort to voice them, anyway. Maybe it was still shock, or jet lag, or her mind’s inclination to retreat from something so out of her control, but by the time Major McConneghy called an end to the day she was ready to sink to her knees right then and there. The only thing that kept her upright and functional was the realization that he was waiting for her to do just that.

      It was in the way he watched her, the way he said little but implied much with his body language. But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. She’d fall apart later, in the СКАЧАТЬ