Her Christmas Prince. Catherine Mann

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      The headline accused Alandra of coming between the man and woman depicted, of being the ruin of a happy home and marriage. He scanned the write-up, which made Alandra sound like a selfish, devious trollop with no compunction about carrying on a torrid affair with a married father of two.

      “She isn’t one of us, Nicolas,” his mother intoned. “She created a scandal in the States and brought shame upon her own family with her promiscuousness. We don’t need her here, doing the same to us.”

      Nicolas tensed in response to both the content of the article and his mother’s high-handed warning, then relaxed. This revelation about Alandra surprised him, but didn’t concern him. And it certainly didn’t change his mind about wanting her in his bed, despite his mother’s cautionary warning.

      “I appreciate your trepidation, Mother, but I think you’re making too much of Alandra’s visit. She’s only here for a month, and only to help with the charities. Nothing more.”

      The queen arched a brow, but remained silent, making it clear she doubted his claims. But his life was still his own, and until he had actually taken his wedding vows with Princess Lisette, he owed no explanation to anyone.

      Refolding the printout and slipping it into the front pocket of his jacket, he pushed himself to his feet and returned his empty glass to the sideboard before crossing to his mother’s chair and leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Good night, Mother. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      * * *

      Alandra was up early the next day, ready to get to work and start putting some of her strategies into action.

      She also hoped to see more of the island and get away from Nicolas. He was dangerous to her peace of mind, and the less time they spent together during her stay, the better.

      Carrying a briefcase stuffed with papers, she arrived in the dining room. The family was already gathered and eating. A plate was quickly set before her, and Alandra enjoyed her breakfast until the queen inquired about her plans for the day. Alandra still had the distinct feeling Nicolas’s mother didn’t like her.

      “After studying the notes Nicolas gave me, I thought the local orphanage would be the best place to start,” she answered. “I’ve got an idea directly connected to the holidays that I think will be quite successful, but since Christmas is right around the corner, it’s important to get things moving as soon as possible.”

      If the queen was pleased with Alandra’s response, she didn’t show it. Instead, Nicolas replied. “I’ll have a car brought around to take us to the children’s home,” he said, pushing back his chair and moving toward the dining room’s double doors.

      “You’re…coming along?” Alandra asked, her words stumbling over themselves as her heart thudded. She really, really didn’t want to spend the day with him.

      He stopped at the door and turned back to face her. “Of course.”

      Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she tried to ignore the heat suddenly licking its way through her insides. “That isn’t necessary.”

      “But it is,” he replied softly. “Glendovia’s national charities are my responsibility. I take that duty seriously and intend to work quite closely with you over the next month. I hope you don’t mind.”

      He added the last, she was sure, for the benefit of his family, all of whom were watching and listening attentively. Because it was clear that even if she did mind—which she did—it would make absolutely no difference.

      If they had been alone, she might have argued, but she certainly wasn’t going to put up a fuss in front of the royal family.

      Forcing the words past her tight throat, she said, “No, I don’t mind at all.”

      His lips curved in a smile that told her he knew exactly how much it had pained her to acquiesce. “I’ll meet you at the car, then,” he murmured, before walking out of the room.

      Ten minutes later, they were seated in the back of a luxurious black sedan, driving away from the palace. According to the map of the island she’d studied the night before, the orphanage was nearby.

      She was happy to simply gaze out the window at the passing scenery and mentally review what she hoped to accomplish at the children’s home. But she should have known Nicolas would never allow her to keep to herself for long.

      “So tell me about this holiday idea you have for the orphanage. I’m surprised you’ve begun to devise a plan already, without even having visited.”

      Keeping her fingers tightly wrapped around the folders on her lap, she tore her gaze away from the view and turned to face him.

      “The files you supplied gave me a general impression of the home, and the type of event I have in mind is something I’ve been a part of before. It seems to go over well and is usually successful in getting the community involved.”

      “Sounds promising,” he intoned. “What is it?”

      “Basically, we throw a small party where Santa Claus visits the children and hands out gifts, and we invite the press and locals to attend. The goal is to draw attention to the orphanage, reminding people that the children are alone and in need not only over the holidays, but year-round.”

      Nicolas nodded, his mouth pursed in thought. “Interesting. And who provides the presents for the children, given that your fund-raising efforts haven’t yet been put into effect?”

      She smiled. “You do.”

      He raised a brow, and she hurried to elaborate. “Or rather, the royal family does. We’ll be sure to mention that to the press, throwing your family into a very positive light. In fact, if this goes over as well as I think it will, you may want to consider sponsoring the event every year. Back home, we’ve made the visit from Santa an annual event, and it goes over extremely well.”

      Inclining his head, he said, “I’m sure that’s something my family would be willing to consider.”

      The car eased to a stop in front of the children’s home. A second later the driver came around to open Nicolas’s door. He stepped out, and a bevy of flashbulbs immediately began going off in his face.

      Alandra had slid across the seat to exit behind him, but rather than reaching for his hand, which he held out to her, she lifted an arm to shield her eyes from the blinding onslaught.

      “Who are all these people?” she called to him.

      He leaned in a bit closer to keep from having to raise his voice. “Just members of the press you were speaking of. They tend to follow members of the royal family wherever we go.”

      Reaching for her hand again, he said, “Come along. It’s time to go in, and you’ll get used to the attention.”

      She wasn’t so sure of that. Where she had been happy a moment ago, and eager to get to work, she now dreaded having to step outside the vehicle into the crowd of photographers circling like vultures. She’d had quite enough of that back in Texas.

      She’d come to Glendovia to get away from the media. Now here she was, smack in the middle of the frenzy once again.

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