Harlequin Romance Bundle: Crowns and Cowboys

by Judy Christenberry

  ‘I’ve been in New York.’

  ‘I know, but…’ She bit her lip. That was what had worried her when Princess Viktoria had insisted. That and something indefinable in the way his sister had looked at her. ‘Princess Viktoria said it would save me a great deal of time each day, not having to get through Security.’

  ‘I’m sure it does.’

  ‘Was that wrong of her?’

  ‘Why would it be wrong?’

  She didn’t know. That was the whole point. They were on his home territory, not hers. But there’d been something about Princess Viktoria’s expression that had made her wonder whether she suspected her reason for being in Andovaria was not entirely due to the discovery of twelfth-century artifacts.

  Of course, she could be being over-sensitive. She was incredibly nervous about being here. Nervous about seeing Seb again. Nervous about…pretty much everything and that was bound to throw everything out of kilter.

  Marianne tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I’d booked a room in a hotel, but Princess Viktoria—’

  ‘I’m glad she did.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Of course. There’s no point running the gauntlet of the paparazzi every day when you don’t need to.’

  ‘No.’ And that did make sense. She’d been shocked to see how many people seemed to be waiting at the private entrance to the castle. ‘Is it always like that?’

  Seb shook his head. ‘They’re waiting for Isabelle. She’ll be home for my mother’s fiftieth birthday celebration—and they all know it.’

  ‘And are they there day and night?’

  ‘Only if they can’t get in,’ Seb said drily, ‘and they do more than wait. They jump out of bushes, they try and bribe the staff here, get friends of friends to talk. Anything to make sure they get a picture no one else gets because that’s the way they earn their living.’

  ‘Does she know that that’s what’s in store for her?’

  Seb stopped at the bronze statue of the horse and looked across at the sweeping drive which led up from to the private entrance. ‘She’s a fool if she doesn’t. The official Press pack are hard enough to accommodate, but the paparazzi are something else altogether.’

  ‘I’d hate that.’

  Seb looked across at her. ‘We all do. They’re so single-minded it can be quite frightening…I’m sorry—’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘But not your problem and I shouldn’t have—’

  ‘I don’t mind. It’s interesting.’ And she liked him talking to her. Telling her things about his life and the way he felt about it.

  It was funny, but until this moment she hadn’t registered how little she’d actually known about Seb while they were together in France. She’d poured out all the details of her life. Talked about her parents, her village, her school, her dreams for the future. But Seb…had said nothing. Couldn’t, she now realised.

  Which meant he must have been constantly editing what he was saying. Thinking of things to say and then realising he couldn’t. She’d been so incredibly stupid.

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  Marianne bit back an almost hysterical laugh. There was no way she was going to tell him that. He didn’t need to know she’d found a new humiliation. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Please. I’d like to know.’ His voice was deep and quiet. ‘I can always tell when you’re unhappy.’

  Marianne looked up and the expression in his eyes made her heart beat erratically. She felt cold, frightened and incredibly small. There was something going on between them she didn’t understand and couldn’t seem to control. How could she be falling for him now?

  ‘Marianne.’ He breathed her name and it was as though it was expressing an emotion he didn’t have any other way of communicating.

  Slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away, Seb stretched out his hand and his knuckles brushed lightly against the side of her face. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

  Beautiful. That single word throbbed through her body. She wanted to hear that. Needed to hear it.

  His thumb moved gently against the side of her jaw, barely touching, and yet every nerve in her body had screamed to attention.

  ‘So beautiful.’ Barely a whisper. It almost seemed to hang in the air.

  His eyes held hers. Dark, dark brown. His pupils wide and black. Easy to fall back in love with him. Easy to forget how alone she’d felt when he’d left her alone in Paris.

  Left her.

  Seb had left her. Beautiful meant nothing. It meant he wouldn’t mind going to bed with her. It didn’t mean he loved her. Or that he wanted to know her dreams or share them with her.

  ‘No.’ Marianne pulled away.

  Seb shot a hand through his dark hair. His eyes looked bleak and, for one moment, she thought he was going to say something.

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

  Seb nodded and then he walked away.

  Marianne raised one shaking hand to her lips and stood there. She felt weak…and foolish…and exposed.

  He’d wanted to kiss her.

  She knew it. And the truth of it was…she’d wanted to be kissed.

  In the distance she saw his tall figure disappear between the archways and she knew that if she could have called him back she would have.

  Marianne tightly shut her eyes against the tear that had spilled over onto her cheek. She was in one almighty mess. She wasn’t over loving Seb—and she probably never would be.

  So, what was she going to do now? She felt as though a fierce wind had blown through her body and had left her buffeted.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SEB stretched out the aching muscles in his back. He’d worked himself hard in the gym, but he knew that it was tension that was causing the problem—and that Marianne was the reason for the tension.

  What had he been thinking? He stood under the hot jets of water and let the rivulets run down his naked body. He needed the shower to wash away more than the dirt and grime from ten hours of travelling.

  The trouble was he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been feeling. His hand balled into a fist, but there was nowhere to vent his frustration. Damn it!

  ‘Seb?’

  He leant forward and turned off the shower as Viktoria’s voice penetrated the sound of the water.

  ‘In the shower. I’ll be out in a second,’ he called back, reaching for a towel off the warm rail. He slung it low round his hips and then picked up another from a pile on the nearby table.

  He emerged drying his hair with vigorous movements as his sister looked up from the magazine she was reading.

  ‘I see you’re featuring in this one,’ she said drily, holding out the open page.

  Seb spared the article a brief look and continued drying his hair. ‘Liesl brought them for me to see. There’s a fair bit about Isabelle in the ones below.’

  ‘Who’s the brunette?’

  ‘The wife of someone I met in Los Angeles.’ He finished drying his hair and tossed the towel across the back of a nearby chair. ‘Don’t worry, her husband was standing to the left of her. I’m not dragging the family into disrepute.’

  ‘Just out of shot.’ Viktoria closed the magazine disdainfully and set it down on the table. ‘I hate that they can get away with that. It’s completely misleading.’

  ‘You and I both know that kind of nonsense sells magazines,’ he said, walking through to his dressing room and pulling out a pair of denim jeans and a folded black T-shirt, ‘and let’s be grateful it’s me in that one and not Isabelle.’

  He heard his sister’s snort of derision and smiled. Viktoria had never put a foot out of line in her life. She’d made an approved, dynastically sensible marriage and appeared reasonably content in it. If she and her two boys made increasingly lengthy stays at Poltenbrunn Castle, who was he to comment?

  Seb pulled his T-shirt over his head and walked back through to see that his elegant elder sister was looking unusually pensive. And he was fairly
certain he knew why—and, for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t about Isabelle’s exploits.

  He paused in the doorway. ‘Is this a conversation we ought to have over tea and cakes or is it more of a whisky and soda one?’

  ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘About?’ He moved to sit down opposite her and tried to keep his body language as relaxed as possible.

  ‘Dr Chambers.’

  His sixth sense hadn’t failed him. He’d known this conversation was inevitable from the moment Marianne had said his sister had placed her in one of the guest suites.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Professor Peter Blackwell’s right-hand woman.’

  Viktoria rubbed at her exquisitely plucked eyebrow. ‘I don’t doubt that, but—’

  ‘And the grown-up version of the girl I met in France.’

  At that her expressive eyes swung round to look at him. There was no surprise in them, just an incredulous disbelief. ‘Why did you bring her here now?’

  ‘I didn’t; you did. You were the person who insisted on Professor Blackwell.’

  Viktoria’s elegant fingers nervously twisted one of her pearl earrings. ‘And you didn’t know your ex-lover was a close colleague?’

  ‘No.’

  Her mouth pursed. ‘Somehow I find that hard to believe—’

  ‘I don’t honestly care what you believe,’ Seb said, his patience exhausted. ‘Vik, I’m tired. I’ve been travelling for something like ten hours and I don’t need this. I had a relationship with Marianne Chambers ten years ago and we haven’t been in contact since. What do you think is going to happen now?’

  ‘You do know we can’t afford another scandal. The annulment of your marriage rocked the monarchy…’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘…and with Isabelle cavorting around Europe with her skiing instructor—’

  He cut her off more forcibly. ‘Yes, I know.’

  Viktoria made a monumental effort to smile and stood up. ‘I know you’ll do the right thing. You always have before.’

  Yes, he always had before.

  ‘I’ll leave you to rest before dinner. You must be exhausted.’ She reached for the door handle. ‘But, Sebastian, please don’t come down dressed like that. You’ll make everyone else feel uncomfortable.’ Then she hesitated. ‘Incidentally, I put Dr Chambers in one of the guest suites because of the paparazzi outside…in case you were thinking—’

  ‘She told me. She’s not a fool, Vik, she had a very good idea why you’d done it.’

  ‘How did she tell you?’

  Seb pulled himself to a more upright position. ‘I met Marianne outside. In the grounds. Maybe an hour ago.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘We spoke. I’ve come in for a shower. There is no “and”.’

  Viktoria looked at him closely. Two deep frown lines marred her otherwise smooth forehead.

  He smiled and yet it was completely mirthless. ‘I’m perfectly aware that you think I’ve brought my latest lover to the castle to rather tastelessly coincide with our mother’s fiftieth birthday, but do you honestly think Dr Chambers would settle for the kind of relationship I could offer her?’

  ‘Many do. You haven’t lived like a monk since Amelie left.’

  ‘Viktoria,’ Seb took a deeply calming breath, ‘Dr Chambers is here at your invitation. Whether you put her in the guest wing, a house in the grounds or a hotel in Poltenbrunn, Marianne wouldn’t be interested.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Look at it from her point of view, Vik. She was an innocent eighteen when I met her, not some publicity-seeking starlet. What do you think she thinks of the way I treated her?’

  His sister’s mouth twisted in unwilling comprehension. She nodded. ‘I’m glad. Not that you treated her badly, of course, but that you haven’t deliberately brought her here. There are enough column inches devoted to our declining moral standards without adding anything else to the mix. And please don’t forget what I said about changing for dinner,’ she said before shutting the door quietly behind her.

  Seb pulled himself out of the chair and walked through to his bedroom.

  Damn!

  He’d seriously underestimated Viktoria’s ability to retain all facts pertaining to anything that threatened the stability of the Andovarian monarchy. And Marianne had certainly done that.

  Seb stretched himself out on top of his bed and bent his arm over his eyes to shade them from the sun streaming through the windows. At nineteen he’d tried hard to persuade his father and uncle that he’d fallen in love and that the way he felt about Marianne was more important than anything else.

  Their arguments had been strong and unequivocal. Their views on the secondary importance of love in a royal marriage fixed. Eight hundred years of tradition and history balanced against a girl he’d only just met. And he’d been young and overawed by what was immediately ahead of him.

  In the end he’d allowed himself to be swayed by their experience. And, perhaps, they were right. Amelie had been desperately unhappy. She’d found royal life unbearably confining—and she’d been groomed to fill such a position.

  He rubbed his fingers round his aching eye sockets. He knew what his duty required. He was acutely aware of it. At some point in the not too distant future he would need to marry again—and he couldn’t afford to make a second mistake. Public sympathy would only stretch so far.

  His consort would have to be someone who was comfortable with being Her Serene Highness the Princess of Andovaria. Someone who could embrace this kind of rarefied life and find it satisfying.

  And that wasn’t a woman who was more comfortable in jeans and wore her hair in a casual pony-tail. Nor was it a woman who believed that enjoyment should come before duty.

  It wasn’t Marianne.

  But, knowing all that, he had nearly kissed her. Today. Out by the statue of his father’s horse. Not that the venue was important. What mattered was the overwhelming sense of compulsion.

  Seb sat up abruptly and pulled a hand roughly through his hair. When he was around her he couldn’t seem to stop something flaring between them. And even at nineteen he’d known that if he couldn’t offer the possibility of forever, he had nothing to offer her.

  Marianne woke particularly early—and she knew why that was. She lay for a moment, listening to the sound of birds outside, and then restlessly pushed back the covers. Hours of thought and she was nowhere nearer deciding what was the best thing to do.

  Everything that had persuaded her to come to Andovaria was still valid. There were exciting historical discoveries to be made. Peter and Eliana were packing up their home in Cambridge and were arriving in five days. The professor was relying on her to be his support. Relying on her. And she owed him that support.

  Nothing had changed.

  Except…

  He’d so nearly kissed her. Marianne padded over to the enormous wardrobe and pulled out her white towelling dressing gown. She wrapped it round her body and pulled the belt tight.

  And she’d wanted him to kiss her. She didn’t begin to understand how that was possible. Not when she’d spent the last ten years clawing back her self-esteem. Marianne walked through to the small kitchen area and picked up the kettle.

  It was weak to want Seb to kiss her. And she didn’t do weak. Not any more. She filled the kettle by aiming the water carefully into the wide spout rather than removing the lid, focusing her entire concentration on not missing a drop.

  Ten years of protecting herself from being hurt again. Ten years of striving for other people’s good opinion as though that would somehow make Seb’s rejection of her less painful.

  And in one single moment—the moment when she’d realised that if Seb kissed her she’d kiss him back—all that work had been swept away on one gigantic wave of emotion. She felt as though the foundations of her entire adult life had been shaken—and she was left desperately vulnerable.

  Marianne pushed t
he tap lever to ‘off’ and carefully settled the kettle back into its cradle. She felt so sick inside, deep inside. Too hurt to cry. Too confused to think. Since meeting Seb everything had been shifting about so much she almost didn’t know how she felt about anything.

  But the sad truth was that no one had ever matched up to him. For ten years Seb had been the ‘gold’ standard by which she’d judged other men. And when they’d wanted to kiss her she’d felt entirely neutral about it.

  Sometimes she’d let them and other times she hadn’t. But it had never felt compelling. Or particularly sexy. Or…anything. For ten years she’d been emotionally switched off. Shut down to life.

  Marianne reached across and lifted down a white china teapot and the small canister containing English tea. She’d no idea whether the tea was something Princess Viktoria had arranged especially for her because she thought she was sleeping with her brother, or whether the Blue Suite always had English guests, or whether everyone in Andovaria always drank English tea, but she was glad to find something familiar.

  Because nothing else was. Seb lived in a completely different world to her. Her entire house in Cambridge would fit inside this guest suite twice over.

  But what she really wanted was everything back the way they’d been in France. She wanted that magical feeling of closeness. Marianne hugged her arms around her body. It didn’t matter how much she told herself that their time together had been an illusion—she still wanted that feeling of connection.

  She was twenty-eight years old. Twenty-eight. And she’d never come close to feeling anything like it since—and deep down she was scared she never would. Perhaps she never would find someone who’d make her feel the way Seb had.

  Marianne rested her hands on the edge of the sink, letting the stainless steel bite into her hands. It would probably help if she could let herself cry, but everything she felt had been buried too deep and too long for tears.

  In one decisive movement she went back to her wardrobe and pulled out her navy blue suitcase. Empty now except for the red box she kept hidden in the inside zip pocket. Marianne placed the case on her bed and unzipped the side, before throwing it open.