The Making of a Princess

by Teresa Carpenter

  “Of course.” The woman’s frozen smile never wavered. “I will see you in the morning,” she said to Xavier before walking away.

  Xavier led Amanda into the sitting room where the porter waited. “I thought you were going to behave.”

  “Hey, I was nice. If my comment showed up her bad behavior, that’s on her.”

  He sighed. “You are right. My apologies.”

  “Hmm” was all she said, making him frown.

  Good. Maybe he’d think twice before defending his old flame again.

  “An agenda of the scheduled events for the Festival of Arms is on the desk.” Armand resumed his porter duties, pointing out the amenities in the room and ending with the promise, “I’ll be by tomorrow to give you a tour of the public areas.”

  He began to show her to the attached bedroom, but Xavier stopped him.

  “Thank you Armand. I will see Ms. Carn settled and take care of her tour tomorrow,” he advised the head porter.

  “As you wish.” Armand acknowledged the change with a sharp nod of his head. “Mademoiselle please dial 9 if there is anything you desire.”

  “Thank you, Armand, you’ve been very helpful.”

  With another inclination of his head, he bid them goodnight and let himself out of the suite.

  “So what’s the plan now?” The words had barely left her mouth when the door to the bedroom opened and a man and woman strolled out.

  Just shy of Xavier’s six foot two, and broader through the shoulders, the Prince had a regal bearing that radiated power. Dark auburn touched with gray at the temples gave him a distinguished air and revealed where the strawberry in her hair came from. The woman, a slim blonde, barely reached his shoulder and had the warmest green eyes Amanda had ever met.

  Xavier immediately moved to her side. Without thinking, she reached for his hand. He gripped it tightly and made totally unnecessary introductions.

  “Your Royal Highnesses, may I present Miss Amanda Carn. Amanda, the Royal Highnesses Jean Claude Antoine Carrère and Bernadette Katherine, the Prince and Princess of Pasadonia.”

  “Oh my.” She gulped, her gaze locked on the stranger that was her father. “Hello...” She trailed off, unsure how to address him.

  “Papa works for me,” he said gruffly and stepped forward to pull her into a hug. “It’s what the boys call me.”

  She nodded. “Behind closed doors, of course.”

  His answering smile was regal. “I appreciate your discretion.”

  “Believe me, I have no desire to become the focus of the press.” If she thought her grandparents’ reputations caused her trouble growing up on campus, times that by a thousand to reach the ruling Prince of a European country.

  “Very wise.” He held her at arm’s length. “Haley’s Comet. I’d forgotten her, but seeing you brings her to life again.” He glanced at Bernadette over his shoulder. “That was the summer my grandmother had her first heart attack. Everyone was afraid, including me.” The Princess stepped forward to lend her support and he patted her hand where she rested it on his arm. Amanda saw now the woman was about ten years younger than the Prince.

  “Of course, I rebelled because fear made my parents and the council tighten their controls.” That familiar gray gaze ran over her. “Haley kept me sane that summer. She was bright and funny, and so naive. I did not see her in the pictures, could not quite remember the woman who had given me the gift of a daughter. Now I remember. You have her build and her mouth, and she wore her long hair in a braid just like you, though her hair was blond.”

  “I never knew her,” Amanda confessed, tears stinging her eyes.

  The Prince nodded. “So Xavier tells me. I will tell you what I remember of her.”

  “I’d like that.” She smiled shyly.

  “Oh Jean, she has your eyes.” Princess Bernadette stepped forward to sweep Amanda into a welcoming embrace. “I am so pleased to meet you.” She kissed Amanda on both cheeks.

  She did have his eyes. Amanda had seen it in the photos on the internet, but it was different when she actually stared into them. And saw he was as nervous as she felt.

  “Thank you for having me.” It was a little lame, but she cut herself some slack considering the circumstances were totally unreal.

  They filled the awkward moment with details of the trip and a rundown of events for the morrow. Finally Bernadette graciously brought the meeting to an end.

  “Jean, mon amour, we should go. Amanda is nearly asleep on her feet. I can give her all this information tomorrow.” She turned her warm smile on Amanda. “You will join me and the twins for breakfast, will not you?”

  “Of course. I’d be delighted.”

  The Prince, papa, squeezed her shoulder before following his wife from the room.

  “Whew.” She sank down onto the cream velvet couch. “I’m glad that’s over.”

  “It is just the beginning,” Xavier pointed out.

  “Yes, but the first meeting is over. It’ll be easier the next time.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the unknown is behind us. Now we can move forward.” She ran her hand over the plush fabric.

  He crouched down in front of her, carefully tucked a stray strawberry curl behind her ear. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She pasted on a brave smile. Fatigue and emotion were fast catching up with her. “I’m excited to meet the twins.”

  “Little hellions. They will love you.”

  “You think so?” she lifted wistful eyes to him. She really wanted for this visit to be successful. And he’d done everything to help make that possible, aligning himself with her, holding her hand.

  “Oui.” He covered her hand where it rested on the couch. “Tell me.”

  She chewed her lip until he swept a thumb over her mouth, tugging her lip free. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Lifting her eyes to his, she confessed, “I just met one of my parents. He remembers my mother. A part of my life that’s been blank for so long is beginning to be filled with life and memories. I’m not as alone as I’ve always thought.” Her breath caught. “I’m going to have breakfast with my brothers. It’s like a miracle.”

  “For them as well. I have never seen the Prince at such a loss for words.”

  “Oh.” She’d been encouraged that her father seemed as uncomfortable as she did in the awkward moment of finding family so late in life. “I thought that was good.”

  “Oui, very good,” he agreed and she relaxed.

  “I’m so glad you sent that picture.”

  “Ah. So I am forgiven?”

  Hm. Was she that excited, that thankful? That tired?

  “No. But nice try.” She stood at the same time he did, bringing them kissing-close. Her teeth dug into her lower lip until she caught the glint in his eyes and she carefully side-stepped around him. “I’m safer if I stay mad at you.”

  A bemused look entered those sinful eyes. “What does that mean?”

  It meant if they were going to be playing lovers, she needed as high a wall as she could build between them.

  “It means good night.” And she walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DEAD TIRED, XAVIER made his way toward the barracks wing. He thought the meeting between Amanda and the Prince and Princess went well. Amanda had been nervous, if the blood stopping grip she’d had on his hand was any indication. But she’d also been poised and friendly. Positively thrilled to finally meet her father.

  Xavier was glad to be there for her in her moment of emotional need.

  She believed he’d used her feelings for him to keep her engaged while he waited for news that would change her life forever. And neither of those things sat well with her.

  He saw her point, but damn
it, she should know he’d never intentionally hurt her. Hadn’t their time together shown her anything of the man he was?

  Maybe not, because he certainly didn’t recognize himself.

  He didn’t allow emotions to rule him. Her insights into his motivations may have struck a chord in him, but he’d never had any trouble distinguishing between duty and self.

  Until Amanda.

  Problem was even though he’d ended their relationship, the irrational side effects still lingered. He should have been supporting his Prince in that room yet his whole focus had been on Amanda.

  He’d laid it on the line for her. A relationship between a royal and a guard was impossible. She might curse a culture she didn’t understand, but she’d accepted it.

  It was time he did, too.

  He rounded the corner to the corridor leading to the barracks wing and found Jean Claude propped against the wall. He pushed free when he spied Xavier. The scowl on his monarch’s face did not bode well.

  “You had relations with my daughter.” He came straight to the point. The storm in his eyes a warning that anger rode close to the surface.

  “I told you we had become close.”

  “I did not equate that with sex.”

  “I was trying to be delicate. It will be in my full report.”

  “The hell it will. Damn it, Xavier, this is my daughter.”

  “With respect, you may want to lower your voice or everyone will know who we’re talking about.” Xavier dared the reminder, playing on their friendship. “It is no excuse, but the time we spent together was before her identity was confirmed.”

  Jean Claude walked down the way and pulled open a door to a supply closet. He flipped on the light and waved Xavier inside. It was a tight fit for the two of them.

  “You knew of the possibility. It should have been enough.”

  “Yes.”

  Jean Claude’s hands fisted at his sides. “You have nothing to say?”

  “I have no argument against the truth.” Shoulders squared, Xavier faced his Prince. “I can only tell you I was attracted to her before I noticed the resemblance to the portrait. She is a special woman. I tried to keep it platonic. I failed.”

  “Just so. But you say it was before we had the DNA results. What of now?”

  Xavier cleared his throat. “I am an officer of the Royal Pasadonian Republican Guard. It would be inappropriate for me to have a relationship with your daughter.”

  Jean Claude’s eyes narrowed. “You dumped her!” He paced away and then back, a sure sign he sought to control his temper. “And I put you together as a cover for her being here. Bernadette will have my hide. Tell me why I don’t take it out on your pretty face.”

  “It is a good cover,” Xavier assured him. “Yes, Amanda is upset with me, but I am a familiar face. We will deal fine together.”

  “You had better. I want that report on my desk first thing in the morning.”

  Xavier held back a weary sigh. “About that.”

  The Prince had turned away, now he snapped around. “You dare challenge me?”

  “I must, your Highness.” Xavier held his ground. “I gave Amanda my word I would delay my report until after she returned to America.”

  “It was not your place to make such a promise.”

  “No,” he agreed. “She was very insistent. Plus I realized the details of the report could jeopardize her cover.”

  “Hmm.” Jean Claude considered that. “Why would she demand this of you?”

  “She didn’t want to meet someone and worry if they would read the report, especially considering our cover story.”

  Jean Claude nodded. “Very well, it will be for my eyes only.”

  This didn’t get any easier and it went against everything he knew to deny his friend and leader, but Xavier felt the need to honor his promise to Amanda. She had no one else to take her side here.

  “You are her father, sir. She was most insistent about you not seeing it.”

  “Mon Dieu, you try my patience.” Jean Claude turned and walked to the door. “It shall be as you say, but you will meet me in the gym tomorrow morning. We will go a couple of rounds in the ring. I still need to beat you to a pulp.”

  “I have another request.”

  “You are pushing your luck, friend.”

  Xavier nodded, knowing full well it was only by the grace of their friendship he’d survived this conversation standing up. Though not a violent man, when it came to defending or protecting his family, Jean Claude would be merciless. And he wouldn’t hesitate to handle it personally. He believed in working his body as well as his mind in matters of strategy and defense. He could handle himself in hand-to-hand combat and with a gun or sword. The two of them often worked out or practiced together.

  “I want to tell my parents the truth. You know you can trust them to keep your secret.”

  “Ha, you think your mother is going to start thinking about grandbabies.”

  “You can laugh, Papa, but Amanda might not find it so funny. The two are bound to meet several times during the festivities. She’ll be uncomfortable if she thinks my mother is building up false expectations.”

  Jean Claude shook his head and reached for the doorknob. “I barely know her. A month ago I would not have conceived of having an adult daughter, yet in this brief time, after meeting Amanda only once, already she has touched my heart.” His gaze met Xavier’s, the intensity of his feelings clearly revealed. “Hold your report, tell your parents, be her protector while she’s here. But if you hurt her, I’ll tear your heart out.”

  * * *

  Breakfast with the twins was a lively, chaotic affair. At first they were shy, hiding behind their mother and peaking around at Amanda. Tiny tots with solid little bodies, reddish brown hair and green eyes, they chattered at each other in a language she had no hope of following.

  She glanced at Bernadette for help.

  The woman shrugged. “I do not know either. It is their own language. I understand a word every once in a while, but I am looking forward to the day they outgrow this stage.” She crouched to the twins’ level. “Devin, Marco, say hello to Amanda. This is your sister.”

  Devin, Amanda made careful note, wore a red t-shirt, and Marco’s was blue.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  The greetings echoed together.

  “Hello.” Amanda crouched, too, and offered her hand to shake.

  Intrigued, the bolder of the two stepped forward while the shier boy stayed next to his mother waiting to see what befell his sibling. A soft little hand settled in hers and she solemnly shook it.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said and he nodded, wayward curls bobbing. She lifted her gaze to Bernadette. “Do they speak any English?”

  “A few words. Dog, ball, Elmo.”

  “Ball!” Devin sprinted away, his twin on his tail.

  She stood along with Bernadette, and a moment later the boys came running back, each with a ball in hand.

  “Ball ech to anda play!” Devin demanded and Marco nodded.

  Amanda grinned. “That was clear enough.”

  “Yes,” Bernadette laughed, “but breakfast first.” The boys obviously recognized the word and tone because they looked at each other, tucked the ball under their arms, and scurried out the door to the table set up on the terrace.

  “They are a delight,” Amanda told her new stepmother.

  “They are a handful,” she replied as they settled at the table. “But also a blessing. And now we have a daughter.”

  Her acceptance humbled Amanda.

  “You’re very understanding to accept a grown daughter into your small family.”

  “Eh.” She waved her hand in a truly Latin gesture, before dishing eggs and t
oast to the boys. “That happened long ago. I must tell you Jean Claude was shaken when he received the picture Xavier sent. For both your sakes I am glad he remembers your mother.”

  “Me too. The loss hurt my grandparents a lot, so they rarely speak of her. I’m excited to talk to someone who knew her.”

  A lidded cup of juice shot across the table. Amanda snagged it before it rolled off the edge and handed it back to Marco with a grin.

  “Of course you are.” Bernadette smiled her thanks. “But what of her friends? Jean Claude said she traveled with several friends that summer.”

  “I never met them.”

  “This is too sad. A girl needs her mother.” She reached for Amanda’s hand. “I know I cannot take the place of your mother, but I hope you will consider me your friend.”

  “I’d like that a lot.” The openness of these people stunned her. “I must confess I expected a much more formal environment.”

  “Oui, much of our lives is formal, with many rules guiding our conduct. You will see much of this over the next couple of weeks.”

  “Mon amour.” A deep voice came from the terrace doorway. “You are scaring the child. In these rooms we are family.”

  “Papa! Papa!” The boys shrieked their joy at their father’s appearance.

  “Papa.” Amanda gave him a big grin and wiggled in her seat like the boys were doing. She noted Xavier’s presence, including a bruise high on his left cheek, but otherwise ignored him.

  Jean Claude grinned back and tugged on her ponytail.

  “You made it.” Bernadette rose and walked into Jean Claude’s embrace. “Can you stay?”

  “Only for a few minutes. I wished to be here when Amanda met our little carpet mice.”

  “Mice?” Bernadette’s eyes widened and she looked frantically about. “We have mice? Xavier please call housekeeping. I do not want rodents around the children.”

  Amanda laughed. “I think he meant rug rats. It’s an affection term for children in America. The boys and I are becoming fast friends. We’re going to play ball in a bit.”

  “Yes, I meant this rug rats. Sorry to upset you, chérie.”