Harlequin Romance Bundle: Crowns and Cowboys

by Judy Christenberry

  ‘And we’ll try and keep our friendship a secret from the Press. There’s no point stirring up speculation unless we intend to marry in due course. And we’re not going to know that for a while.’

  Marianne nodded and got to her feet. ‘I—I don’t know. It’s difficult and I…’

  His hands moved to cradle her face and he looked down into her eyes. He was so close she could see the tiny flecks of amber, feel his breath on her skin. ‘I need you to think about it because I think I’m falling in love with you again,’ he said simply.

  There was a brief moment of shivering delight when she knew he was going to kiss her, before his mouth fastened on hers. His kiss was warm, persuasive and so, so unbelievably sexy. And it was a kiss unlike any she’d ever known. It was honest and real and it touched the very essence of who she was.

  Her jumper fell to the ground and she raised a shaking hand to feel the rough bristles on his chin. Seb might be falling in love with her all over again, but she’d already fallen. And she’d fallen hard—ten years ago—with no prospect of pulling back.

  But what he was asking…scared her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TWENTY-FOUR hours later and Marianne still wasn’t sure of her decision. Every time she thought she’d decided to take a chance on what she felt for Seb she remembered how desperately hurt she’d been by him. How broken.

  And he was offering no guarantees about their having a long term future together even now. Couldn’t. What he was offering her was simply the possibility of one.

  Marianne left the formal parterre and headed directly for the pavilion, loving the feel of the mid-morning sun on her skin after the chill of the keep.

  She glanced down at her watch. Actually, she’d had more than twenty-four hours to make her decision. Seb’s oh-so-disciplined private secretary had escorted her back to the guest wing at five minutes to nine, which meant she’d had twenty-five hours and forty-nine minutes to reach some kind of a conclusion.

  What Seb was suggesting would change her life. Irrevocably. She didn’t know if she was ready for what that would mean. How could she ever really know what it was like to live the life of a princess, or a potential princess, until she was actually doing it? And by then it would be too late to turn back.

  Marianne tucked herself into a corner of the pavilion, slipping off her shoes and stretching her legs out along the cushioned seating. It was nice up here. It didn’t have the fairy-tale grandeur of Seb’s ‘postcard’ view, but she loved the revolving table in the pavilion that made her think of a noisy family eating out-of-doors and the sweeping lawn that was made for children to play on.

  It made her believe it might be possible to carve herself a life here with Seb. She wanted it to be possible because she loved him. Still.

  But…it was difficult.

  If they’d had the same conversation a decade ago she wouldn’t have thought about it for a moment. She’d have jumped at the chance to be with him whatever the sacrifices involved.

  Only now she was older. Had seen more, understood more. Marianne opened the flap of her small rucksack and pulled out her flask of coffee. She loved Seb and wanted to be with him, but it wasn’t that simple.

  It was like marrying a man who had children from a previous relationship; the children were part of the package and you couldn’t ignore them. Seb was the Sovereign Prince of Andovaria and, like it or not, he came as a package. Seb and Andovaria.

  And it wasn’t even merely a question of embracing a new country; it was having to live by a completely different set of rules.

  How would it feel to know you were considered important simply because you’d happened to fall in love with and marry a prince? To have people worry about whether they should call you ma’am or Serene Highness?

  To have no real friends?

  How did that feel? Never to be completely sure whether people genuinely liked you—or merely the status you brought them by knowing you?

  What did it feel like to be hounded by the Press? To be Princess Isabelle? To be pursued by the paparazzi—who knew that a bad photograph of you had more market value than a good one? What did that feel like, day after day?

  Could she cope with a future where everything she wore, everything she said, would all be analysed and criticised…

  Was she ready for that?

  Honestly, she didn’t think she was. The prospect terrified her. But when she thought of the alternative…leaving Seb…

  Marianne unscrewed the top of her flask and carefully poured herself a coffee. She wasn’t sure she could do that either. She sat back into the corner, her hands cradled round the flask-lid mug, her head whirring with all the thinking.

  When she was with him she forgot he was a prince. Forgot everything except how it felt to be with him, to be able to touch him, hold him.

  Have him hold her.

  She wanted that.

  A shadow fell across the revolving table, giving her a few seconds warning that she was about to be joined, before Seb stepped inside the pavilion. He was dressed in a sharply cut black suit, black tie and crisp white shirt. Formal. Intimidating. And spectacularly attractive.

  Marianne took a moment to respond to him being there—and when she did it was with a jerk. She flicked her legs to the ground and spilt a little of her coffee on her skirt as she did so. ‘I thought you’d gone,’ she said, foolishly. ‘I heard a helicopter.’

  ‘Yes, I’m about to go. I told them to wait.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I saw you walk up here.’

  Unaccountably shy, Marianne looked away—using the need to place her coffee back down on the table as an excuse. Then she pulled the wrap-over on her ecru linen skirt in place and traced a finger over the coffee stain.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘There’s been a serious train crash on the border between Andovaria and Switzerland,’ Seb said, sitting next to her.

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’m flying in to see if I can help get things moving a little quicker.’

  ‘Are many people hurt?’ she asked, shocked.

  He nodded. ‘The local hospitals are expecting to be overstretched. So far thirty people are known to have been seriously injured, but they’re still pulling people from the wreckage.’

  ‘Any dead?’

  ‘Not yet.’ He looked across at her. ‘I find this kind of thing difficult to deal with.’

  Marianne reached out a hand and laid it across his. She did it without thinking, merely intending to comfort. His fingers closed round hers and held her hand firmly.

  ‘What I hate the most is that when I arrive you can see people look at me and think “Great, now he’ll get things sorted” and I know there’s nothing I can do that isn’t already being done.’

  His forefinger moved against the palm of her hand. ‘I feel helpless.’

  Marianne said nothing. She sat and watched his finger move rhythmically over her skin.

  ‘Five years ago there was a fairly serious train accident,’ Seb continued, ‘and a child was pinned in one of the carriages. I climbed in to talk to him while the rescue services were getting organised. They had to cut him out.’

  ‘Oh, Seb.’

  ‘I’m still haunted by his voice pleading with me not to leave him.’

  ‘Did he survive?’ she asked, her voice sounding husky.

  ‘He lost a leg. Eight years old and he lost a leg.’ Seb moved his hand and threaded his fingers through hers. ‘Just doesn’t seem fair, does it?’

  ‘Better than dying.’

  ‘Yes.’ He looked out across the sweeping expanse of lawn and towards the neatly arranged parterre. ‘Doesn’t seem to let it stop him doing anything. He’s quite inspirational. As is his mother.’

  His fingers moved again against her hand. ‘They’d been going to see friends. Set out that morning expecting to have a pleasant day…’

  ‘Accidents happen,’ she said. ‘And, even if you can’t do as much as you’d like to, at least you’
re trying to do something. And you can throw your weight about and demand things happen faster. That’s good.’

  Seb turned back to her and smiled. ‘Yes, I can do that.’

  The expression in his eyes stopped the air in her lungs.

  The pressure on her fingers increased. ‘Have you made your decision?’

  Had she? She was holding his hand. Wanted to comfort him.

  Marianne released her trapped breath on one shaky out-pouring. ‘Yes. Yes, I have.’

  ‘And will you?’

  ‘Yes.’ And it felt as if she’d jumped into a vast vat of fizzing lemonade.

  Seb reached out and cradled one cheek in his warm hand, lightly kissing her softly parted lips. They hardly touched and yet Marianne could feel the tremor run through him and she felt a sudden surge of confidence. He might not know it, but she was sure he loved her. Just as he had before.

  ‘You ought to go.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’d hoped we could have had dinner today,’ Seb said, his thumb gently stroking across her cheek, ‘but I don’t know when I’ll be back. It depends what I find when I get there.’

  She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘And Saturday is the annual summer ball.’ His eyes seemed to caress her. ‘Come.’

  ‘To the ball?’

  Seb nodded. ‘See what you think of it.’

  A shiver of fear passed through her. A royal ball. At the castle. Where people would look at her and wonder who she was.

  It was the point of no return—and they both knew it. Prince Sebastian’s girlfriend.

  ‘I’ll send Alois to talk to you. Finalise the arrangements.’

  Slowly Marianne nodded.

  Seb’s mouth curved into a sexy smile and then he leant in for another kiss. This time more certain and his tongue flicked between her lips. That still made her gasp, want more…

  ‘See you Saturday. If not before.’ His lips pressed warm against her forehead. Then he stood up and briskly walked back down towards the castle.

  Marianne watched him go, uncertain whether she was relieved to have made the decision or apprehensive about what that decision would mean.

  By the time Marianne returned to the guest wing that evening she’d heard more than enough about the annual summer ball. As soon as the invitations had arrived there was very little conversation in the keep office that didn’t concern it.

  Dr Liebnitz had received an invitation, the professor and his wife, two of the more senior historians on the team, their partners…and herself. No one had quite known what to make of it, since it was apparently unprecedented for any ‘staff’ member to be invited to what was, essentially, a high-society event.

  She shut the door of the Blue Suite and rested her head on it, glad of the solitude. The constant speculation had made her feel awkward. Untruthful—because she’d known exactly what had prompted the Dowager Princess to send those cream invitations.

  Marianne slipped her shoes off her feet and padded across to the kettle. What she was less sure of was whether the Dowager Princess knew she’d sent them. How much had Seb told his family? And how much was she allowed to confide in Peter and Eliana?

  She placed the kettle in its cradle as a firm knock sounded on the outside door.

  ‘Just coming,’ Marianne called out, expecting it to be the professor…or Eliana. ‘I’m…’ She broke off, stunned to see Alois von Dietrich.

  Seb’s private secretary gave a professional smile. ‘His Serene Highness asked me to run through tomorrow’s arrangements with you as soon as you returned to the guest wing.’

  ‘Oh,’ Marianne managed limply. She held the door a little wider. ‘You’d better come in.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Marianne tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Would you like something to d-drink?’

  ‘Not for me, thank you.’

  She walked over to the chairs by the window and sank down because her legs had begun to feel wobbly. She’d seen Seb’s helicopter take off barely twenty minutes after their conversation in the pavilion and yet he seemed to have found time to arrange so much.

  ‘Please sit down.’

  What was Alois von Dietrich thinking about her? Did he think what Seb was doing was unwise? Impossible? What did he really think about her having spent the night in his employer’s private rooms? Marianne gripped her hands firmly in her lap.

  Seb’s private secretary took the opposite seat and pulled out his file. ‘I’ve arranged for Gianferro DiBenedetto to bring some of his more wearable designs to the castle at nine o’ clock tomorrow.’ He looked up. ‘Unless there’s a designer whose work you prefer, Dr Chambers?’

  Her mind spluttered. ‘No. Gianferro DiBenedetto will be fine.’

  More than fine. He was a phenomenally successful designer; his dresses were fought over by Oscar-nominated actresses. Marianne sat in stunned silence.

  ‘I’m afraid it does need to be early to allow time for any alterations to be made before the evening.’ Alois von Dietrich looked up. ‘Prince Sebastian also thought that, on this occasion, you’d be more comfortable arriving with your friends, Professor and Mrs Blackwell?’

  Marianne’s hands clasped and unclasped in her lap. ‘Yes. Yes, I would.’

  ‘I suggest, then, that they meet you here at eight o’ clock and I’ll have someone sent down to escort you through the security.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Alois shut his file. ‘I will accompany Signore DiBenedetto to see you in the morning.’ He stood up. ‘And I wish you a very good night.’

  The unmistakable sound of a helicopter flying close by had Marianne looking anxiously outside the window. ‘Is that Prince Sebastian?’

  ‘His Serene Highness doesn’t anticipate returning to Poltenbrunn until the morning.’

  Marianne looked round. ‘Was the crash particularly bad?’

  ‘I believe the total number of injured is now standing at sixty-five and there are three known to have died,’ Alois replied. ‘An even mix of Swiss and Andovarian nationals.’

  It was strange that Seb’s private secretary should know more about what was happening in his life than she did. Different rules. Did Alois think Seb would have tried to contact her directly if she was important to him? Or did he think it was intrusive of her to want to know?

  Marianne stood up. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done.’ And then, with her hand on the door, ‘Who is that arriving?’

  ‘Prince Sebastian’s youngest sister. With so many photographers outside the castle it wasn’t considered safe for Princess Isabelle to arrive by car.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask whether Princess Isabelle had arrived alone or whether she’d brought her much older lover with her. She stopped herself just in time.

  With the door shut, Marianne placed her hands against her hot cheeks. This whole experience was so bizarre. She was going to wear a Gianferro DiBenedetto dress. A dress that would cost more to buy than she earned in a month.

  How did Seb imagine she was going to explain that to Eliana?

  Perhaps it was time she took her into her confidence? Not about Seb being Jessica’s father—that was too private and painful a secret. But about Prince Sebastian wanting to ‘date’ her. That was incredible enough.

  And she needed to tell someone. Put words on what was happening to make it seem believable.

  Marianne pulled a jumper from one of the drawers and quickly slipped on her shoes. She let herself out of the Blue Suite and headed out towards the Blackwells’ temporary home in the castle grounds.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IT HAD been a long time since Marianne had needed any help getting dressed, but tonight it seemed she wasn’t to be trusted. An army of experts had swooped on her and she was completely transformed.

  Gianferro had come especially to see that his elegant bias-cut creation was being shown to the best possible effect, a hairstylist had pulled her hair into a seemingly artless twist and a manicurist
had performed a miracle on nails she’d ignored for a whole lifetime.

  She looked like a princess, which must have been Seb’s intention. And she felt scared. It would have felt better if she’d been able to spend some time with him, but she’d had no contact with Seb since their snatched conversation in the pavilion.

  ‘Hurry up. It’s nearly eight o’ clock,’ Eliana called out loudly from the next room. ‘How long does it take to put on a necklace?’

  Marianne drew a shaky breath. She felt exactly as she had when she’d been learning to ice skate and her teacher had told her to let go of the rail. Leaving the bedroom seemed like the hardest thing in the world.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked, stepping into the sitting room.

  Eliana’s face broke into a smile. ‘I think you look incredible.’ She walked round Marianne to study her appearance from all angles. ‘Very, very beautiful. Don’t you, Peter? It’s just a more polished version of you, if that makes any sense.’

  Marianne ran her hands over the oyster silk. ‘This is the weirdest dress. It’s got a kind of Lycra smoothing system built into it as part of the actual thing.’

  ‘Is it comfortable?’

  Eliana’s question surprised a laugh. ‘Not particularly. I’m not sure whether I can sit down.’

  ‘Shouldn’t think you’ll have to.’ There was a small tap on the door. ‘It’s time we were leaving.’

  Marianne fingered the heart-shaped locket at her neck. Gianferro had been all for borrowing a diamond drop necklace, but she’d insisted on wearing her own jewellery. She needed to remember what this was all about—and Seb’s gift to her was the only thing that would do that.

  She was here because she loved him—and because Seb thought he might be falling in love with her. She was here because she needed him. And because she wasn’t happy living her life away from him.

  ‘Ready?’ the professor asked.

  Marianne didn’t think she’d ever feel ready, but Alois’s organisation was meticulous. His ‘someone’ was here promptly at eight and would, no doubt, have something scheduled for later.

  She was overwhelmingly glad to have Eliana and Peter with her. Glad that they’d taken her news in their stride. Glad they didn’t see anything particularly difficult or impossible about it. But embarrassed she couldn’t confide in them completely.