The Secret Princess

by Beth Harbison

  “I don’t think so,” he said in a tone of absolute certainty.

  It was already becoming more difficult to fight this beautiful fantasy, but she knew she had to. If only to protect herself from the inevitable letdown. “Look, I can’t prove you wrong at the moment, but I know in my heart I’m not the person you’ve been looking for.” Emotion thickened in her throat. “I’m sorry. I know you went to a lot of trouble to come to me and to arrange this blood test, but it’s just going to prove what I’ve said all along. I’m no princess.”

  He watched her for what seemed like ages, studying her face, her mouth, her eyes. Then he reached out and cupped his hand on her cheek. “If I didn’t believe it before, I do now. You are more regal, more noble, than anyone I have ever met.”

  She resisted the urge to close her eyes and sink into the warmth of his touch. “I’m no different from anyone else.”

  He smiled that movie-star smile. “Princess Amelia, you are too modest.” He didn’t move his hand.

  And she didn’t move a muscle, for fear that he would. “You give me more credit than I deserve.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible,” he said, gently sliding his hand through her hair and pulling her close. “I don’t know another woman who would resist the offer I’ve given you.”

  Her mouth went dry. Their faces were inches apart. One turbulent bump and she’d lose the tenuous balance she had and would land in his lap. “Have you offered it to many of them?”

  He cocked his head and looked amused. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”

  She tried to affect the composure she didn’t feel. “I don’t know you nearly as well as you seem to know me.”

  “Do you want to?” he asked.

  Her voice took on a breathy Marilyn Monroe quality she didn’t intend. “I—I don’t know.”

  “Are you easily persuaded?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper itself.

  She didn’t point out that she wasn’t too hard a sell, since she was on the plane with him. Instead she said, “Every year on January 1, I make a resolution to strengthen my willpower.”

  He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.

  “And every year around January 10 I give up trying.”

  He laughed. “Then don’t try. Willpower is an overrated asset. You have far better ones.”

  She swallowed. “I do?”

  He nodded. “You do.” And before she could object, or even think to try, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  Her body reacted before her mind had a chance to object.

  She had been kissed before, but the moment his lips touched hers, it felt like the first time. As if what she’d experienced before were not kisses, but fumbling adolescent attempts at kisses. Everything that had happened before in her romantic life sank away like a barely remembered dream.

  Suddenly this was her reality.

  Never before had she experienced the physical rush that washed over her, her heart pounding so hard against her rib cage it felt as if it might crack, the explosion of sensation that took over and froze her mind, and the dizzying sense of urgency.

  It felt wonderful. He was delicious. And warm. And strong. And the unusual, but distinct scent of his after-shave was intoxicating.

  Trying to resist him felt like trying to walk straight after consuming a bottle of vodka, but Amy made the effort.

  She drew back and asked, in what felt like a drunken slur, “What are you doing?” Her head was still swimming with the pleasurable sensation, and if he had taken her wordlessly back into his arms, she would have been powerless to resist.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he appeared maddeningly composed. “Isn’t this done in America?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, buying time to try to come up with a clever response. She couldn’t. “By people who know each other.”

  His mouth cocked into a half smile. “Did I not introduce myself?”

  “Actually, no, Your Highness—” she paused for emphasis “—you did not. Not with any degree of truth, that is.”

  He dipped his head. “Then allow me now. I am Wilhelm De Beurghoff, crown prince of Lufthania.” He took her hand. “Soon to be the former crown prince of Lufthania, that is. You may call me Will.”

  Her hand was warm in his, and though she thought she should pull it back, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. “Will, huh?” Her voice was weak from excitement, but she tried to sound normal. “I like that much better than Franz.”

  “Franz will be sorry to hear that.”

  “There really is a Franz?”

  He nodded. “He’s my secretary.”

  She looked at him for a moment. “Secretary to a prince who doesn’t want the throne? You know, I have to say, I find that part of this pretty hard to believe as well.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It defies human nature. People want to be royalty. They don’t want to move out of the castle, they want to move in. It makes no sense for you to go searching for another heir—” A thought too horrible to voice came to her. Maybe he did want the throne. Maybe he wanted to find what he called the “legitimate heir” so he could get rid of any possible threat.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, concern coming over his face. “Are you ill?”

  Amy tried to regain her composure. If he did want to get rid of her, she mustn’t appear to be afraid. “No, I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was weak.

  “No, you’re not.” He got up and went to the small refrigerator across the room. When he came back he had a bottle of cold water. “Perhaps this will help.”

  He was trying to help her. If he didn’t care what happened to her—indeed, if he wished ill upon her—he wouldn’t try to help her, would he?

  She took the water. “Thank you.”

  “What happened to you?”

  She shook her head. “It was nothing.”

  His gaze was penetrating. “I don’t believe you.”

  She gave a dry laugh. “That makes us even.”

  He didn’t share her levity. “You don’t trust me,” he said quietly. “And that scares you.”

  She was so shocked at his accurate assessment that her mouth dropped open. “I didn’t say that!”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “But—”

  “It’s all right. Were I you, I would be equally skeptical.”

  “It’s not just skepticism.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Surely you don’t believe I mean you harm.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The look in your eyes.” He leaned forward and put his hands on hers. “You’re afraid of me.”

  “I’m not.”

  He watched her in silence before saying, “You don’t believe I want to give up the throne. You said as much yourself. So this is…” He made an expansive gesture. “You believe I intend to, how do you say, get rid of the competition?”

  She raised her chin and hoped he couldn’t hear the nervous pounding of her heart. “That’s an interesting theory.”

  He chuckled softly. “It’s true, Americans watch too much television.” His eyes met hers. “No, Amé, I do not want to eliminate you. I want you to take the throne, where you belong. But I will tell you the truth, it’s not purely from a feeling of illegitimacy on my part.”

  Finally he was starting to be honest. She believed he didn’t mean her harm. He’d gone to too much trouble to find her and tell her who he believed she was. Relieved, Amy asked, “What is it?”

  “This is not something I wanted to share so soon,” he said, standing up and going to the iced champagne. “But under the circumstances, I suppose I must.”

  “I’m listening.”

  He filled his glass and turned to face her. “Lufthania was once one of the wealthiest nations in Europe. Now there are people starving in the streets.”

  “Why?” Amy gasped. “What happened?”

  “The laws regarding imports, and therefore exports, were tightened.
People were no longer able to make a living creating Lufthania’s greatest product.”

  “What is that?”

  “Chocolate.”

  Chocolate! She was being taken to rule a country whose greatest product was chocolate! Her heart leapt. There was nothing he could have said that would have made her feel more like she belonged there. “And the people no longer make it?”

  He shook his head grimly. “We are a democracy run by dictators.” He gave a small shrug. “That is, much of the current regime disapproves of progress, of technology and thus of the way the rest of Europe and the world live. They would not let electronic imports in, which cut off a good deal of our export business and left many families unable to earn their living.”

  It was hard to believe. “Your government would rather see its people starve than move into the twenty-first century?”

  “Exactly.”

  She believed him. There was no way a person could fake the disgust he showed for the situation. “And what does finding a new princess have to do with it? How can that help?”

  “It can help,” he said, “because by bringing a beautiful American princess in, a modern woman from a modern world who cannot be removed from the public eye by a vote or other means, the country can move forward.”

  “But how? What if they just hate me? Or whoever ends up on the throne,” she corrected quickly.

  He smiled and took a sip of his champagne. “You’ve seen this phenomenon over and over. A beautiful young royal enters the public eye and soon young girls everywhere are imitating her, demanding information about her from the press. It’s the kind of thing the government is powerless to control.”

  “Like with Princess Diana.”

  “Precisely. And a handful of others.” He gestured toward the magazine next to her. “That publication is one of many devoted exclusively to European royalty. But I am not as interesting to them as you will be.”

  She thought about the article on him, and the extremely good photographs of him. He was probably a heartthrob to thousands of women in his country. Millions, if there were that many.

  “I doubt anyone would be more interesting than you to the media.”

  He tipped his glass toward her. “You are too kind.”

  But she was not to be distracted. “Okay, so I understand the theory behind this, though I’m not sure it’s right to just pick anyone to take over and pretend to be the princess—”

  “You are the princess.”

  She held a hand up. “Okay, say I am. What do you do when I take the throne?”

  He hesitated.

  “Will?”

  He expelled a long breath. “I want to take a job in the government. The only way I can change things is from the inside. Not from a gilded perch designed only for the amusement of the old school.”

  “But if you’re the crown prince, can’t you make the laws and force the government to uphold them?”

  “No, it is as I told you. The prince or princess is merely a figurehead. The throne holds no power.”

  “And a royal can’t run for office.”

  “No.”

  Now she got it. Now it all made sense. And Will was a much better man than she’d given him credit for. His eagerness to find a replacement was not from laziness, or from the desire to do away with another heir so he could hold on to power forever, it was from his concern for his country.

  His people.

  For one wild moment, she wanted nothing more than to help him. No matter what it took. “I understand,” she said. “And I admire you for it.”

  He smiled that dazzling smile. “Then you will help?”

  “I—”

  “Your Highness,” a voice interrupted from the doorway.

  They turned to see a large man in what must have been a captain’s or co-captain’s uniform.

  “Yes, Max?”

  The man spoke in German, which Amy didn’t understand, and Will responded in the same language, before turning back to her. “We’re landing in ten minutes,” he said. “Put your seat belt on and look out the window. You’re about to see your country.”

  Chapter Four

  It was a long ten minutes for Will, waiting for the plane to land. But for once it wasn’t because of his anxiety about flying.

  This time it was because of the woman sitting in front of him.

  Princess Amelia.

  He couldn’t believe he had been foolish enough to kiss her. It wasn’t just that personal involvement wasn’t part of his plan—personal involvement was something he was specifically determined to avoid with the new princess. It could jeopardize all of his plans.

  Giving up his place on the throne of the country he had loved since birth wasn’t an easy thing for Will. The palace alone would be hard to leave, perched atop a mountainside looking over the beautiful valley of Lufthania—so green in summer, and glazed like a dazzling gem with snow and ice in the winter. He would miss the view of the shadows cutting across the hills when he woke up every morning, and the lights of the village twinkling in the distance like stars when he went to bed at night.

  But he would not miss the adoration and respect he felt he had not rightfully earned as prince. He would be far more comfortable working legitimately for the people than he was now.

  So it would be with a heavy heart, but steely determination, that he would pass the throne back to Amelia. However, if he made the mistake of getting involved with her personally—even as a friend—it would be even more difficult to leave palace life behind, because from now on that life would include Amelia.

  He looked at her profile as she looked out the window. Her nose was straight and just long enough to avoid being called pert. Her chin was strong yet delicate, and her eyes were like clear blue glass. He couldn’t read her expression as Lufthania came into full view, but he sensed her awe.

  Who wouldn’t feel awe upon seeing this lovely place for the first time? To this day, Will’s chest filled with pride every time he saw it after a trip abroad. Only today, he felt more than that. Today he had a profound sense of coming home.

  It was strange. When he’d imagined what it would be like to bring Amelia back, he’d thought he might feel some sense of loss or of intrusion. Yet she didn’t raise any of those feelings in him.

  In fact, as difficult as it was to believe, it was she who gave him this added sense of home this time. It was as if he was clicking the last missing piece into a puzzle and now it was complete.

  “What do you think?” he asked her.

  “I think I’m dreaming.”

  He gave a half smile. “If you are, I’m flattered to be part of it.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I mean I think I’m dreaming of the scene outside, not of you.”

  “Give it time.”

  She looked at him.

  “I mean, give Lufthania time,” he said. “You will see that this is all real. And all yours.”

  “Did you ever think of being a used-car salesman?” she asked, unfazed as the plane bumped the ground and taxied rapidly down the runway. “Because I bet you could make a fortune.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  The plane drew to a halt and Will unclipped his seat belt. This was his favorite part of any flight.

  Annabelle opened the door and said, “Your car is waiting, sir.”

  He looked at Amy. “Are you ready?”

  She bit her lower lip. “I’m not sure.”

  “Come on, then. Let me try to sell you a country…”

  The road twisted and turned through a snow-white fairy-tale forest. And, as in most fairy tales, there was a slightly menacing undertone to the journey. Though the snow was bright, the woods were so thick they were dark in the distance. And the winding road had patches of ice that crackled under the tires of the sleek limousine.

  Amy looked out the window and told herself she was crazy for imagining that the landscape was familiar. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of having been here before.

 
; “What are you thinking?” Will asked, his voice so low and so close to her ear that it sent chills down the back of her neck.

  “That it’s very beautiful here,” she said, though that was only half the truth. “This is a nice vacation, if nothing else.”

  “If nothing else,” he repeated. “You are not an easy one to persuade, are you, Amé?”

  “Not without cold, hard facts,” she said.

  “Cold, hard?” He looked puzzled.

  “It’s an expression,” she explained. “Basically it means I won’t believe I’m a princess until you prove it.” And that she was ready, in the meantime, to leave at a moment’s notice, if necessary. She had her passport, her credit cards, and she could do without her luggage if necessary.

  “The palace physician will test your blood tomorrow morning, if that suits you,” he said. “It will be tested against your grandfather’s, and you will have the proof you need within a couple of weeks.” He raised an eyebrow. “I know you are expecting it to be negative, but have you considered what you must do if—when—it is positive? You’ll be moving here immediately, I assume.”

  She didn’t answer right away. She honestly hadn’t thought of what she’d do if the test proved she was related to the former prince and princess. The notion had been so fantastic that she couldn’t take it seriously.

  Now, faced with the question of what she’d do, she realized that she did have to plan for that possibility. Though the idea of being some kind of secret princess was hard to believe, the facts of her life didn’t necessarily point against it. She had been in a car accident with her parents, two people who were never identified. And, apparently, never missed, at least in America, because the police department had put out a nationwide call for missing persons that yielded nothing. It was a sad thing that was better explained by Wilhelm’s theory than by the idea that no one cared enough about them to miss them.

  “Amé?”

  She turned her attention back to Will. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “If you’re right…So much of my life is in America. My business, my friends, my parents, my apartment.” She shrugged. “My bills. Everything. How could I just abandon all of that?”

  “Don’t think of it as abandoning,” he said. His green eyes were so warm he could have convinced her of almost anything. “It is moving on, fulfilling your destiny. It is a great thing.”