Not-So-Perfect Princess: Not-So-Perfect Princess. Melissa McClone

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СКАЧАТЬ gave her a look. “You really think so?”

      “Yes.” Her gaze locked with his, willing him to remember their previous discussions and their plan. Okay, her plan. “You will bring our country into the twenty-first century. If not for our younger brothers and subjects, then for your children and theirs. Especially the daughters.”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Yes, you do. And I’ll help.” The bane of his existence was being crown prince. Brandt wanted all the perks that went with being royalty without any of the responsibility. One of these days he was going to have to grow up. “Once I marry someone outside of Aliestle, Father’s reign over me ends. I’ll be able to represent our country to the world and gain support to help you enact reforms when you are king, even if the Council of Elders is against them. We must change Aliestle for the better, Brandt.”

      He didn’t say anything. She didn’t expect him to.

      “We are approaching the palace,” the pilot announced over the headsets.

      Goose bumps prickled Jules’s skin.

      Full of curiosity at her new home, she peered out the window. A huge white stucco and orange-tile roofed palace perched above the sea. The multistoried building had numerous balconies and windows.

      But no tower. Another good sign?

      A paved road and narrower walking paths wove their way through a landscape of palm trees, flowering bushes and manicured greenery. Water shot at least twenty-five feet into the air from an ornately decorated fountain.

      The Mediterranean island and palace were a world away from Aliestle and the stone castle fortress nestled high in the Alps. Living somewhere lighter and brighter would be a welcome change from the Grimm-like fairy-tale setting she called home.

      “Father may have finally gotten this right,” Brandt said.

      Jules nodded. “It’s pretty.”

      “At least on the outside.”

      She sighed. “Don’t forget, dear brother, you’re here for moral support.”

      “And to make sure the honeymoon doesn’t start early,” Brandt joked.

      As if she’d ever had that opportunity present itself. She glared at him. “Be quiet.”

      “Sore spot, huh?”

      He had no idea. Engaged three times, and she’d never come close to anything other than kisses. Besides making out with Christian while a teenager, she’d been kissed once as an adult. Prince Niko’s kiss while sailing had been pleasant enough, but nothing like the passion she’d overheard other women discussing. Perhaps with Prince Enrique …

      The helicopter landed on a helipad. The engine stopped. The rotor’s rotation slowed. Her hand trembled, making her work harder to unbuckle her harness. Finally she undid the latch. As they exited, a uniformed staff member placed their luggage onto a wheeled cart.

      “Welcome to La Isla de la Aurora, Your Royal Highness Crown Prince Brandt and Your Royal Highness Princess Julianna.” An older man in a gray suit bowed. “I am Ortiz. Prince Enrique sends his regrets for not meeting you himself, but he is attending to important state business at the moment.”

      “We understand.” Brandt smiled. He might not be the typical statesman, but no one could fault his friendliness. “State business comes first.”

      Jules looked around at the potted plants and flowering vines. A floral scent lingered in the air. Paradise? Perhaps.

      “Thank you, sir.” Ortiz sounded grateful. “I am in charge of the palace and at your service. Whatever you need, I’ll see that you have it.”

      Jules glanced at Brandt, whose grin resembled the Cheshire cat’s. She would have to make sure he didn’t take advantage of the generous offer of hospitality.

      “The palace grounds are lovely, Ortiz,” she said. “Very inviting with so many colorful flowers and plants.”

      “I am happy you like it, ma’am.” His smile took years off his tanned, lined face. “Please allow me to show you and your party inside.”

      Klaus nodded. Her bodyguard, in his fifties with a crew cut and a gun hidden under his tailored suit jacket, had protected her for as long as she could remember.

      “Lead the way, Ortiz,” she said.

      As they walked from the helipad to the front door, Ortiz gave her a brief history lesson about the palace. She had no idea the royal family had ruled the island for so long. No doubt the continuous line of succession had impressed her father who would want to ensure a long reign for his grandchildren and the heirs that followed.

      “Prince Enrique has done so much for the island,” Ortiz said. “A finer successor to King Dario cannot be found, ma’am.”

      If only Jules knew whether the compliments were truthful or propaganda. She knew little about her future husband besides his name. “I’m looking forward to meeting Prince Enrique.”

      Ortiz beamed. “He said the same thing about you at lunch-time, ma’am.”

      A third good sign? Jules hoped so.

      When they reached the palace entry, two arched wooden doors parted as if by magic. Once the heavy doors were fully open, she saw two uniformed attendants standing behind and holding them.

      Jules stared at the entrance with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. If all went well—and she hoped it did—this palace would be her new home. She would live with her husband and raise her children here. She fought the urge to cross her fingers.

      With a deep breath, she stepped inside. The others followed.

      A thirty-foot ceiling gave the large marble tiled foyer an open and airy feel. Stunning paintings, a mix of modern and classical works, hung on the walls. A marble statue of a woman sitting in the middle captured Jules’s attention. “What an amazing sculpture.”

      “That is Eos, one of the Greek’s second generation Titan gods,” Ortiz explained. “We are more partial to the Latin name, Aurora. Whichever name you prefer, she’ll always be the Goddess of the Dawn.”

      “Beautiful,” Brandt agreed. “Eos had a strong desire for handsome young men. If she looked anything like this statue, I’m sure she had no trouble finding willing lovers.”

      “Close the front doors,” a male voice shouted. “Now.”

      The attendants pushed the heavy doors. Grunts sounded. Muscles strained.

      “Hurry,” the voice urged.

      The people behind Jules rushed farther into the foyer so the doors could be shut. The momentum pushed her forward.

      A shirtless man wearing shorts ran toward the doors. Something black darted across the floor.

      Yvette screamed. “A rat, Your Highnesses.”

      “There are no rats in СКАЧАТЬ