The Making of a Princess. Teresa Carpenter

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      “They’re all the family I have. My mother died when I was just a baby.”

      He watched her intently, his honey brown eyes focused completely on her. “I am sorry. You must miss her every day.”

      She nodded, a lump forming in her throat at his simple understanding. Even though she’d never known her mother, Amanda did miss her every day.

      “And what of your father? You have not mentioned him.”

      She sighed. She hadn’t known him either, and yes she felt the hole he left in her life, but he was such a mystery that’s all she usually focused on. Except for those bitter, lonely minutes when she speculated he must be dead, too. Otherwise why wasn’t she with him? Why didn’t he come for her?

      Xavier leaned forward, his interest apparent. And heady. Especially after the university boys she was used to.

      Pleased by his undivided attention, she revealed more than she normally might.

      “I don’t know my father,” she declared. “My mother never told my grandparents who he was.”

      “How difficult for you. I cannot imagine not knowing one of my parents. Have you made any effort to find him?”

      Xavier felt like a thief stealing an innocent woman’s secrets. He was a soldier, dammit, not a spy. He did not care for the subterfuge required for this assignment. He already knew the answer to all the questions he’d asked. He’d had a complete dossier of her in his hands before the exhibit ended last night.

      After he sent the picture of Amanda to his Prince, His Highness admitted he’d met and wooed an American or two in his early twenties. The Prince also had a copy of the dossier and had viewed a picture of Haley Carn, Amanda’s mother. He admitted she looked familiar but could not state with certainty that he knew her twenty-six years ago.

      He requested Xavier obtain and forward a DNA sample to Pasadonia. In the meantime he was to maintain surveillance and gather more information.

      It was the thing of nightmares.

      She shook her head in answer to his question. “I’ve thought of looking for him, but it always upset my grandmother so much when I asked that I stopped probing.”

      “So your choice is to give up your search or cause your grandmother distress.”

      Perhaps if she were a different person he’d find it easier. But he liked her. He found her refreshing, honest, giving, surprisingly bold. And loyal. She’d given up a personal quest to soothe the sensibilities of her grandmother.

      “There was no reason to upset her over something I may never know the truth of. But now I’m out on my own, I may try to find out something more.”

      “Do you have a clue where to look?”

      He disliked deceiving her. His gaze landed on her full lips. Especially when he’d prefer to spend time with her for an entirely different reason.

      Duty demanded his cooperation, so he would do as his Prince, his friend, requested. It was Xavier’s hope that he would quickly be able to prove that her resemblance to the royal family was simply a coincidence.

      And then they could move on. She’d be none the wiser, and he’d spend the remainder of his time in this country pleasantly occupied in getting to know her better.

      “I think I might. When I was getting ready to move, I took some stuff up to the attic to store. I started to poke around a little, and I found a box with some of my mother’s old diaries and journals.”

      “Sounds promising. Do you think she put your father’s name in one of the journals?” That might answer the question for them all. But of course, the Prince would need the DNA proof as well.

      “I doubt it. My grandmother would have looked. Unless she’s lied to me all these years, which isn’t totally impossible. She’s very protective of my mother’s memory.”

      “But not of you?” He found it odd that the dead should take precedence over the living. Yes, we honored and missed those who went ahead of us, but not at the expense of those still with us. Or so he’d been taught.

      Amanda dipped her head and played with a spot of water on the table. “My mother was her only child. I’m the one who stole her from my grandparents.” She lifted her gaze to his and he saw a world of loneliness in the depths of her sky blue eyes. “It’s not that they don’t love me on an intellectual level, it’s that they can’t allow themselves to feel so strongly again. They aren’t emotional people.”

      “Ah.” He nodded. “Some people are this way. My family is very emotional.”

      “That must be nice.” Her eyes lit up. He was happy to chase the shadows away. “Do you have a large family?”

      “Yes. There is mama and papa and my younger sister, and her entire brood of children. Plus lots of aunts, uncles, cousins.”

      “It sounds wonderful.”

      “Yes. And sometimes quite loud.”

      “Wonderful,” she repeated. “So Uncle Xavier. Tell me about your nieces and nephews.”

      “What is there to tell? There is one of each. Jon is the youngest at one. And Bridgett is four.”

      “Ah ah.” She shook her finger at him. “You pretend disinterest but it’s obvious you dote on them. Especially the youngest, Jon.”

      “Yes.” How did she know he had a special affection for Jon, who had his grandfather’s naughty grin? “I have missed them.”

      “But no wife or children for you.” She sent him an arch glance. “Are you a player, Xavier?”

      “I have no time for games in my life. And too much respect for my mother.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew Yvette LeDuc would be disappointed in his behavior, even though he acted in the line of duty.

      Enough. Except for one last task, he had done all he could for now, all he was willing to do. He deliberately glanced at his watch.

      “I must go.” He stood and she rose with him. As he hoped she would. He tossed money down to cover their meal and took her hand to lead her to the walkway out front.

      She’d worn her lustrous mane of red gold hair free around her shoulders.

      “I enjoyed this.” She smiled up at him, all innocent charm.

      “As did I.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, lifting his hand to her hair, feeling like a beast as he did so. The silkiness wrapped around his wrist, catching in his watch. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

      She hesitated long enough for him to remember she’d issued this invitation for coffee at her friend’s prompting. Finally she nodded.

      “Yes. Ouch!” She reached for her hair when he began to lower his hand.

      “My apologies.” He stopped and carefully extracted his hand, taking care not to pull her hair once he’d caught a few strands in his watch. “Such lovely СКАЧАТЬ