Counterfeit Princess. Raye Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ any commitments for the princess. Keeping things general sounded like the best way to go. She glanced up at him, then looked away. She felt as though she were preparing for a pop quiz.

      “Yes. The situation we both find ourselves in. I have no idea how you feel about it.”

      She hesitated. “Why don’t you describe it to me the way you see it?” she said, stalling for time.

      “It’s simple enough. I owe your father for his support, both in manpower and in political arm-twisting, in freeing Nabotavia from the radicals. If it weren’t for him, I probably wouldn’t be going back.” He turned his brilliant gaze on her. “He asked in return that I marry his beloved daughter. And I promised him I’d do it.”

      She studied his face, hoping to find one little kernel of human feeling somewhere in all that beautiful coolness. “That’s it?”

      “Yes. What more do you need?” He shrugged. “You have to admit, it is rather awkward for both of us.”

      She frowned, wanting to be sure she got this straight. “In other words, you don’t really want to marry the princess.”

      He opened his mouth to answer, then frowned at the way she’d put that. “I have promised King Mandrake that I would offer his daughter my name and a place at my side in Nabotavia. And I mean to honor that promise.”

      She nodded, reminding herself not to slip into the third person again. “I see. I think I get it. So even though you don’t really want to marry me, you’re bound and determined to do it to pay back King Mandrake.”

      “No, you don’t really get it.” He looked pained. “That’s why we need to talk this over.”

      She gave him a dubious look. “Yes, I can certainly see the need for some frank conversation.”

      “Very good. The sooner the better.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Why don’t we find a more private area and…”

      “Oh no.” She saw where this was going and she wasn’t going to go there. He wanted time alone while he probed her mind for her real reactions to marrying him? What a recipe for complete disaster.

      He blinked, looking down at her in surprise, as though he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her right. “No?”

      “No, I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

      She’d promised Greta she would repair the break and she felt she’d taken care of things on that score. Her obligations were fulfilled and she was going home. She sighed with relief as the dance came to an end. This time she wasn’t waiting for anyone to fetch her and she slipped out of Marco’s arms. Gathering a handful of skirt, she smiled at him.

      “Thank you very much for a lovely evening. It’s been most interesting. And now, I’ll bid you good night.”

      And she turned and sped away, knowing she was leaving a very perplexed royal behind, but not really caring a bit.

      Shannon was out in front of the hotel only a few minutes later, waiting for the limousine that would take her back to real life. She was still tingling from her encounter with the crown prince. She hoped never to see him again but the memory of all that masculine elegance would be a treasured one for a long time. A young woman like her—a graduate art history student paying her way through college as a hostess in a Texas steak house—didn’t get too many opportunities to see royalty up close and personal.

      “It’s been fun,” she murmured to herself, craning her neck to see if the limousine was coming, “but thank goodness it’s over.”

      Greta and Freddy were lingering inside, saying goodbye to old friends and acquaintances, but Shannon was anxious to leave her semi-royal life behind. And somewhat nervous about getting away from the hotel before the prince showed up and tried to talk to her again.

      A long, sleek limousine pulled up and a mournful-looking man stepped out, leaving the passenger side door open and indicating he’d done so for her convenience.

      “If you please, Your Highness,” he said, making a sweeping movement with his arm and bowing in her direction.

      “Thank you,” she said, bending to slip into the back seat, relieved that she was going to make her escape. Fussing with her long skirt, she didn’t notice that the back seat was already occupied until she’d set herself down in the corner and looked up. And then, her gaze meeting the calm demeanor of the crown prince, she gasped. “You!”

      She’d barely got the word out when the door slammed shut and the driver of the limousine began to cruise toward the highway.

      “Princess,” Marco said, bowing slightly from where he sat. “I’m honored that you have agreed to join me in a ride to see the lights of the city.”

      She gaped at him, outraged. “I have done no such thing and you know it.”

      His gaunt, shadowed face showed no reaction. “We need to talk.”

      “You may need to talk. I need to get some sleep. Turn this thing around and take me back right now!”

      His jaw tightened. “Iliana, be reasonable. We need to get some things settled between us.”

      She looked at him helplessly. She was stuck and she knew it. And all for nothing. She couldn’t settle anything. She wasn’t in the position to make promises. Or even to tell simple truths. He was going to ask all sorts of things she couldn’t answer. Now what?

      She made one last pathetic attempt to change his mind.

      “I really can’t go with you. I have a headache. I need to get home. And anyway, Greta and Freddy won’t know what’s happened to me.” She looked back longingly toward the fading lights of the hotel where those two were still chatting with old friends.

      “My man Jordan will stay behind and fill them in,” the crown prince said reassuringly. “I’ll make sure you get home in one piece.”

      Home! That was another problem. She couldn’t let him drop her at the little house in the modest suburb where she actually lived. And if he took her out to the princess’s ranch, it would be daybreak before she made her way home again.

      She turned to look at him, dismayed. He was certainly making her life difficult. Her chin came up and her eyes flashed. “I insist that you turn this car around and take me back,” she said, surprising herself with how imperious she sounded.

      Her manner appeared to surprise him, too. He actually seemed to look at her for the first time and really see how upset she was.

      “I’m sorry, Iliana,” he said quietly. “I can’t do that. We must talk and we don’t have much time. This has got to be settled right away.”

      She stared at him and realized she was at a crossroads. She could throw a tantrum until he got so disgusted with her he dropped her on the closest street corner. Or she could tough it out, do what she could to avoid answering direct questions, and hope for the best. With a sigh, she opted for the latter.

      “All right, Your Royal Highness,” she said, settling back into the plush cushions. “Since I’ve been shanghaied, I guess I might as well make the best of it. Let’s talk.”

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