The Princess and The Masked Man. Valerie Parv

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      Provided she used a cane or other support for the time being, she could put weight on her injured foot now. And anything was better than being confined to this chair. Leaning on his strong arm was not her motivation for accepting, she assured herself. “It would be good to move around for a while, but I don’t want to impose,” she said.

      “Not at all, Your Highness. As you can see, there’s hardly any competition for my attention.”

      Hearing her own words turned back at her, she smiled. “I mustn’t take you away from your wife.”

      What she could see of his face darkened fleetingly, then he returned her smile. “With respect, you’re fishing again. I can’t help you do your duty as our hostess unless you agree to preserve the mystery.”

      Bryce had no idea what had made him approach the princess, or why he hadn’t come right out and admitted who he was. Some people might see the loss of Eden Valley as a comedown, but he regarded it as a liberation.

      The next time he owned land, it would be in his own right, free of family interference. So, being an employee of the castle was a means to an end for him. But he found it hard to imagine the princess being so interested in him once she knew all about him. In spite of his vow to remain uninvolved, he was enjoying arousing her curiosity.

      Arousing her might be even more of a challenge, not that he had any such intention. Although seeing her borne into the ball on the sedan chair carried by her protectors had certainly aroused him. Few women, even royalty, would have carried off such an entrance with her assurance.

      During her stately progress into the ballroom, she had kept her back straight and her head high, exposing an expanse of swanlike neck. The full skirt of her strapless aquamarine gown had spilled over the runners of the chair, making it look as if she were floating on a cloud. He’d decided that he had to meet her.

      She was right. He wasn’t intimidated by her position. Coming from a family with interests in two countries, he was used to dealing with officials at the highest levels. Beyond business, he didn’t usually seek them out, preferring the company of more everyday people like himself.

      There was nothing everyday about Princess Giselle de Marigny.

      For one thing her golden coloring set her apart. As fair as her brother was dark, she had eyes as bright as stars, of a jewel color he didn’t have a name for. Her hair was wound into a chignon dressed with a diamond tiara. It wasn’t a huge leap to imagine the strands tumbling around her shoulders in a riot of curls. Would they feel as silky as they looked, spilling through his fingers?

      Her skin was like milk, shading to creamy pink under the rim of her jeweled mask, and she had the most tantalizing mouth. Soft, quick to smile. In a less public forum, he would have been sorely tempted to taste her. Maybe more than taste. Just as well he was constrained by the crowd.

      When she took his hand and got carefully to her feet, she felt as light as his daughter, thistledown in a designer gown, a child masquerading as a princess. Except that there was nothing remotely childish in the smile she gave him as she curled her hand more securely around his arm. He felt his insides cramp in response.

      “People will talk, you know,” she murmured.

      He crossed his free arm over his chest and covered her hand with his, telling himself it was the gentlemanly thing to do. It had nothing to do with welcoming any excuse to touch her. “Do you care, Your Highness?”

      She gave a dismissive laugh. “If I let myself worry every time someone gossiped about me, I’d be a nervous wreck.”

      The only tremors he could feel in her were at his touch, possibly a product of his wishful thinking. “Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there? Where would you like to begin?”

      “My brother’s group, if you’d kindly help me over to them.”

      Would Maxim recognize him and expose his identity to her? There was nothing for it but to comply. The prince was chatting amiably to a group, all masked as Bryce was. He hadn’t been at the castle long enough to recognize many people, even without masks, so he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he concentrated on Giselle’s melodious conversation as she did her royal duty as hostess. Her presence had added an unexpected fillip to an occasion he hadn’t expected to enjoy in the least.

      The other guests were concerned about her, of course. Surprised to see her on her feet, Bryce gathered from their comments. “Clark kindly volunteered to help me get around,” she said in a mischievous tone.

      Bryce couldn’t see Prince Maxim’s frown of puzzlement as he tried to place the newcomer, but it was in his voice as he said, “Clark?”

      “My secret identity for tonight, Your Highness,” Bryce explained, feeling himself color under his own mask. Entertaining the princess was one thing. He hadn’t planned on taking the joke any further.

      “He came to my rescue when everyone else neglected me,” she went on.

      “The day you suffer neglect, my dear Giselle, the world comes to an end,” Maxim observed. To Bryce, he said, “Normally I can’t get near her for the men swarming around her.”

      “Perhaps when I’m able to dance,” she grumbled. “Today I can barely manage a few steps without assistance.”

      Maxim’s gaze went to her arm linked with Bryce’s. “You don’t seem to be suffering greatly at this moment.”

      He was right, she wasn’t. Her foot throbbed, but the mystery of her benefactor’s identity provided a welcome distraction. Maxim had given no sign that he recognized her escort, so her brother wasn’t going to be much help. She would have to figure this out on her own.

      Although she was consumed with curiosity about the imposing stranger, part of her wanted the mystery to continue. Behind the mask he could be any man she imagined, her Prince Charming if she so chose.

      She told herself she was being capricious, but decided it couldn’t hurt for one night. Soon she would be recovered enough to return to her royal duties. Added to the affairs of the trust, and her teaching commitments at the castle school, she would have little time for fantasy.

      And that reminded her.

      “I must arrange a meeting with you and Eduard, while he’s still in Taures Province.”

      “Could we discuss that another time?” Maxim asked mildly enough, although Bryce heard the steely undercurrent in his tone.

      Giselle’s head came up. “You’ve avoided discussing it elsewhere, so you leave me little choice. Eduard returns to Valmont in two more days.”

      Bryce let his glance follow Maxim’s to where a tall, dark-haired man was holding court. Eduard, Marquis of Merrisand, his prodigious memory supplied. He was so well known that no mask could conceal his identity.

      Maxim made an impatient sound. “If it helps, I’ve already spoken to Eduard about your desire to be appointed Keeper of the Castle.”

      “And?”

      Bryce heard the expectancy in her tone and wondered at it. Maxim presently held the dual titles of administrator of the Merrisand Trust and Keeper of the Castle. Giselle СКАЧАТЬ