Enrique must have given the measurements for his idea of the perfect bride. Jules wasn’t surprised he wanted an eighteen-year-old woman with the proportions of a real-life Barbie doll. She remembered the room he’d picked out for her with the garden view to make her happy. One of Enrique’s problems was he assumed everyone’s tastes were the same as his own or should be.
Using a measuring tape, the designer and her assistants took measurements and scribbled notes.
Jules wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but despair crept along the edges of her mind, threatening to swamp her. The reality of what kind of marriage she would have had become clearer.
Running away, giving up duty and family for happiness, no longer seemed like such a drastic measure. She could shuck the awful dress and flee. No more grinning and bearing it. No more doing what everyone else wanted her to do.
But that behavior wasn’t any more her than the wedding gown. Jules wanted a better future for her children and her country. She had a plan. She would have to be content with her sailing rebellion.
“That is all we need, Ma’am,” Delia said. “I’ll start to work on the alterations right away. I shall also remove some of the bows and layers. Prince Enrique talked about a fairy-tale princess dress. That led me to believe you were younger. My mistake.”
“You’ve worked hard on the dress, Delia. The craftsmanship and quality are outstanding. I know you’ve delivered the wedding dress Prince Enrique asked for,” Jules said. “But I’m twenty-eight. Not eighteen. Anything you can do to make the gown a little more…subdued would be appreciated.”
Delia bowed her head. “I understand, ma’am.”
The woman’s empathetic tone told Jules the designer understood. Was that enough to make up for her having to wear the dress and marry an egotistical crown prince? She exhaled on a sigh.
Enrique was to be her husband. She had to make the best of the situation and the most of the opportunity. Jules straightened. “So where am I to go next?”
“The massage table, ma’am.” Yvette read from a sheet of paper. “Then you’re to have a pedicure and manicure before seeing the hairstylist and makeup artist.”
“I’ll be all made up with nowhere to go,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted and cheerful.
“You do have someplace to go, ma’am.” Yvette waved a piece paper. “I received an updated itinerary for today. You, Prince Brandt and the royal family are attending the ballet tonight.”
Jules hoped that included Alejandro. Her heart bumped. The thought of seeing him again—make that racing with him—was the only thing keeping her going right now.
Thank goodness she’d said yes to being his helmsman or she didn’t know what she would do. The memory of racing would keep her going until she had children to love.
Maybe she would get pregnant right away.
On her wedding night.
With Enrique.
The thought of being intimate with him seared her heart. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She looked up at the elaborate crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and blinked. Twice.
Jules knew better than to let her emotions show. She’d been trained from a young age to hide her true feelings. She had to be more careful or someone might discover the truth about how she felt.
Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile.
She looked at Yvette. “So, which ballet will I be seeing?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE SUN HAD yet to peek over the horizon. As Jules made the early morning trek to Alejandro’s boat dock, her headlamp illuminated the way through the darkness. The scent of cut grass hung in the air. The smell was new, different from the night before. Someone must have mowed yesterday. Or maybe she was paying closer attention this time.
Knowing where she was going made the walk easier. But the stillness was a little eerie. Even the insects seemed to have called it a night. If only she had gotten more sleep…
Jules yawned.
The four-hour ballet and the dessert afterward had dragged on into the wee hours of the night. She’d slept for three hours before having to wake and prepare for this practice. She felt half-asleep.
Too bad the Lilac Fairy from the ballet couldn’t lead a handsome prince to Jules. A kiss might wake her up, especially if the kiss came from a certain prince.
Alejandro.
Warmth balled in her chest.
He’d been at the ballet for the first act, long enough to slip a note about this morning’s practice into Jules’s beaded clutch. He’d left the royal family’s private box before the start of the first intermission, well before the kissing happened in act two. She’d been sad to see him go. Not for any other reason than she enjoyed his company, she decided.
Jules knew she would never be anything more than Alejandro’s sister-in-law. Anything more would be wrong. But she allowed herself the luxury of daydreaming about him until her wedding day. A guilty pleasure, yes. But a necessary one if she wanted to make it through her engagement without losing her mind.
Jules wanted to like her future husband. She wanted to fall in love with him. But he wasn’t making it easy. He’d paraded her around like a puppet bride on a string during both intermissions. Enrique didn’t want a wife; he wanted a fashion accessory.
She shivered with disgust at the way he’d showed her off and talked about her as if she weren’t there. At least he hadn’t tried to kiss her good-night.
Forget about it. Him. She needed to focus on sailing.
But Jules couldn’t muster the same level of enthusiasm she’d felt venturing out here yesterday. Partly because of what had happened with Enrique, but also because she would be meeting the crew for the first. She wouldn’t be Julianna, but J.V., a nineteen-year-old male university student from Germany who knew enough English sailing commands to be an effective helmsman.
Jules wore the same disguise as before, but she didn’t know if she could pull off her new identity. The waist of her pants slipped down her hips. She pulled the pants up and rolled the band. Maybe that would make it fit better.
A wave of apprehension swept over her.
Alejandro thought she could do it, but the man exuded confidence. He thought he could do anything. He seemed to believe the same of her, too. Jules wished she was as certain, but all she felt were…misgivings.
At the top of the hill, she stopped.
The sun broke through the horizon casting beautiful golden rays of light through the sky. She inhaled, filling her lungs with the briny air.
Dawn brought a new day, a new beginning. This was hers. She needed to grab it with both hands.
Freedom.
Excitement shot all the way to the tips of her toes.
Alejandro needed her. Well, she needed him and La Rueca. Jules would do whatever she had to do until the Med Cup was over to create memories that would last a lifetime, ones she could share with her children, and she hoped, someday, with her husband.
Not even thinking about Enrique could burst the enthusiasm energizing her now. Jules wiggled her toes inside her boat shoes. She wanted to be down on the dock. She wanted to sail.
Jules removed the headlamp, switched off the power and shoved the device in her windbreaker’s pocket. She hurried down the path, eager to climb aboard La Rueca.
Men stood on the dock and in the boat. Navy, black, red and white seemed to be the colors of choice for their clothing. Two wore baseball caps. Good, she wanted to fit in.
Still butterflies filled her stomach. She kept descending moving closer to the boat.
A few men glanced her way, gave her the once-over, but not in the way she was used to. That was okay. She didn’t want them looking at her too closely.
She studied each and every one of the faces. The crew contained a mix of nationalities and ages. But she didn’t see Alejandro with them.
Anxiety rocketed through her.
Where was he? Alejandro hadn’t mentioned not being here on his note. She couldn’t do this without him. Jules wanted
to stop moving, but that would look odd. She didn’t want to make the crew suspicious. She forced one foot in front of the other.
Please be here.
A familiar head with dark hair popped up from below deck. Alejandro.
Relief washed over her. She quickened her pace to reach him—the boat—faster.
With the dark stubble on his face, he looked very much like a pirate captain and king. His smile made her breath catch in her throat. “Good morning, J.V.”
The rich, deep sound of his voice made her heart turn over.
Jules acknowledged him with a nod. The less she said, the better. She kept her hands at her sides, too. She didn’t want to wave back like a girl, or worse, a princess.
“This is J.V.,” Alejandro announced. “The one I told you about. Wait until you see him at the helm. La Rueca turns as if she’s sailing on rails.”
Jules straightened, pleased by his compliment. Living up to his words might be hard. What if she’d gotten lucky the other night with a perfect combination of wind and sea?
The others didn’t say anything. They eyed her warily.
Jules wasn’t offended. She understood their caution. Alejandro had given her the nod of approval, but she was an unknown quantity. She would have to earn their respect with her sailing. She only hoped she could.
“Hi,” Jules said in the deepest voice she could manage.
She shoved her bare hands in her jacket pockets. Shaking hands with anyone would be a bad idea. She’d trimmed her nails and removed the polish, but her hands still looked feminine. Maybe she needed a pair of sailing gloves.
“I’m Phillipe.” The bald man with clear, blue eyes spoke with a French accent. She recognized him from races she’d watched on television. “Tactician.”
Before she could acknowledge him, Phillipe walked away, unimpressed by her. Uh-oh. This could be interesting since they would have to work closely together.
“I’m Mike. One of the grinders.” The burly, brown-haired man, whose job was to crank the winch, sounded like an American. He yawned. “I hope all our practices aren’t going to be at the crack of dawn.”
Wanting to say as little as possible, Jules glanced at Alejandro.
“J.V. can’t miss any of his classes at the university,” he answered. “The wind is good in the morning.”
“This morning,” Mike agreed. “But these early wake-up calls are going to mess with my social life, skipper.”
“Chatting on Facebook can wait until after the Med Cup, mate.” A bleach blond with a tanned face stepped forward. Friendliness and warmth emanated from his wide smile. “I work the bow. Sam’s the name. From New Zealand. Welcome aboard, J.V.”
She smiled at him, feeling a little strange that no one could tell she wasn’t a boy. Okay, she didn’t want to be recognized, but it made her wonder. Were her features that masculine? Was that the reason her father had such a hard time marrying her off?
“Dude, I’m not talking about Facebook,” Mike said to Sam. “This girl I met at the club last night is so hot. She’s interested, too.”
Sam laughed. “In getting away from you.”
“Yeah, right. That’s why she gave me her number,” Mike countered. “I’m texting her as soon as we finish practice. Talk about an amazing rack.”
As a red-haired, Irish-sounding guy asked to see the woman’s picture, heat rushed to Jules’s cheeks. She turned her face away so no one would notice. Her brothers didn’t talk like that in front of her. Not even Brandt, who probably considered admiring “racks” a pastime.
“No pics right now, Cody. We’ll finish the rest of the introductions later,” Alejandro said. “Let’s take advantage of the wind and have J.V. show us what he can do.”
Jules swallowed around the anchor-size lump lodged in her throat. If she messed up…
No, she shouldn’t imagine making any mistakes.
The other crewmembers took their positions.
Alejandro had put his faith in her. She couldn’t let him down.
With her insides shaking, Jules boarded La Rueca. She removed Brandt’s sunglasses from her pocket and put them on. The dark lenses would protect her eyes from the rising sun, but also hide them.
She was a world away from the life she lived, but her training would help her today. A helmsman needed to be cool, calm, calculating. Just like a princess.
Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile.
Jules did all three. As her fingers tightened around the wheel, she widened her stance. The position felt familiar, comfortable.
“Ready?” Alejandro asked.
She would prove to the crew Alejandro hadn’t made a mistake by giving her the helm. “Ready, skipper.”
Her smile widened. She sounded like a German. Maybe she could pull this off.
Julianna had done it. Pride filled Alejandro. She’d proved her worth as a helmsman with some world-class sailing.
The three hours on the water went by faster than anyone expected. No one wanted to return to the dock. But Julianna needed to get back to the palace before anyone realized she wasn’t asleep in her bed as they thought.
Standing on the dock, Alejandro picked up a line. He glanced at the cockpit where Julianna studied one of Phillipe’s charts. With her sunglasses on top of her hat, she looked every bit a teenager. No one suspected differently. Maybe people only saw what they expected to see. The disguise made her appear younger, but nothing could hide her high cheekbones, lush lips or smooth complexion.
Alejandro could watch her all day long and never get bored.
“Skipper,” Sam called from the bow. “Toss me the line.”
Alejandro did.
“The kid’s good.” Sam hooked the end around a cleat. “Quiet, but he knows what he’s doing. The way he maneuvered around that buoy. Sweet. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense when it comes to wind shifts.”
“Told you.”
Sam nodded. “But J.V. seems a bit…soft. We need to take him out. Harden him up. Make him drink until he pukes.”
Alejandro’s muscles tensed. Having Julianna out here without a bodyguard was bad enough. Granted, he could protect her. No doubt his security detail wasn’t far away given his sneaking out of the palace hadn’t been necessary this morning. But he wouldn’t put her in harm’s way, not even for a little hazing by the crew. “J.V. is young. He lives with his overprotective family. If we have some fun with him like that, he won’t be allowed to sail with us.”
“Okay, but he’s wound pretty tight. Maybe a woman—”
“Leave the kid alone,” Alejandro interrupted. “That’s an order.”
“If you change your mind—”
“The kid’s a natural. We need to mentor J.V., not introduce him to a life of debauchery.”
“You’ve never had a problem with debauchery before.” Sam grinned knowingly. “Let me guess. The kid has a hot sister.”
Julianna was hot. Alejandro smiled.
“You dog.” Sam laughed. “I didn’t know you liked young pups.”
Alejandro didn’t. “She’s a bit older than J.V., but I’ll take what I can get.”
That was the case with Julianna until she married. Then he’d be free and she’d be with… He didn’t want to think about that.
“Okay. I’ll put my plans to corrupt the youngster on hold.” Sam winked. “Until you’ve had your fill of his sister.”
A good thing Julianna couldn’t hear them. She was huddled with Phillipe going over race strategy in German. No one knew the Frenchman was fluent. Fortunately Julianna was, too. Otherwise her cover would have been blown.
Day one had been a success. Only time would tell what the rest of the days would bring.
But Alejandro was…hopeful.
Jules walked back to the palace through the dark tunnel. The four-footed creatures running alongside her beam of light didn’t bother her. Meeting the crew and being accepted by them exhilarated her. The image of Alejandro with his eyes full of pride, a wide smile on his handsome face and the d
awning sun gleaming in his hair gave her a boost of energy.
The darkness beyond her headlamp seemed to go on forever, but she didn’t care. Jules felt as if she’d already been crowned queen. The only thing she needed was a hot shower. Okay, a nap wouldn’t hurt.
She reached the staircase to her closet and climbed the steep, narrow steps to the landing.
Alejandro’s plan had worked. Relief flowed through her veins. Sailing on his crew was going to work out fine. She could race and then marry Enrique. No one would know the truth.
Jules pressed on the latch. The secret door opened. She stepped out of the dark passageway and into the closet.
She’d told Yvette not to disturb her this morning and allow her to wake up on her own. But Jules stood at the closet door and listened. No sounds. Yes! Her escape and return had gone off without a hitch.
She closed the secret door.
All she had to do was undress, hide the sailing clothes and—
The closet door opened. Yvette dropped the towel in her hand and gasped.
Stunned, Jules jumped back.
No, no, no, no, no.
Heart pounding, she lurched forward and placed her hand over Yvette’s mouth. “Shhhh. Don’t scream.”
Fear filled Yvette’s brown eyes. “Waah wuh wah ma puhsa.”
Jules struggled to comprehend the words. She hoped being in the closet would mute their voices. “I’m going to lower my hand. Do not scream. Understand?”
Yvette nodded.
Jules lowered her hand from the maid’s mouth. “What did you say?”
“Please don’t hurt my princess.”
Hurt. Princess. Yvette hadn’t recognized her. Jules could still escape.
Her relief lasted no longer than a breath. Escaping into the tunnels wasn’t an option. An investigation into the mysterious closet intruder might reveal the tunnels’ existence. Worse, she couldn’t allow Yvette to be traumatized by this.
Jules’s best choice, her only choice, was to come clean and hope for the best. A miracle.
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