Teresa Carpenter - The Making of a Princess

For the first time man and soldier were at odds as desire warred with duty.

He liked this woman, he wanted her physically, but if she was of the royal family his duty was to protect her against all threats—including himself. With the addictive taste of her still on his lips, he recognized the challenge that represented.

He knew his duty—lived and breathed it day in and day out. Duty was what kept the soldier from kissing her when she so obviously wanted a kiss as much as he wanted to get his mouth on her. The shadow of hurt as she moved away drew the man in him forward as he sought to erase her pain.

And his.

Now might be the only time he had with her—this time of uncertainty while the DNA test was pending. Once her identity was confirmed, she’d be forever out of his reach …

TERESA CARPENTERbelieves in the power of unconditional love, and that there’s no better place to find it than between the pages of a romance novel. Reading is a passion for Teresa—a passion that led to a calling. She began writing more than twenty years ago and marks the sale of her first book as one of her happiest memories. Teresa gives back to her craft by volunteering her time to Romance Writers of America on a local and national level.

A fifth-generation Californian, she lives in San Diego, within miles of her extensive family, and knows that with their help she can accomplish anything. She takes particular joy and pride in her nieces and nephews, who are all bright, fit, shining stars of the future. If she’s not at a family event, you’ll usually find her at home—reading, writing or playing with her adopted Chihuahua, Jefe.

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Princess Camp

AMANDA CARN SHRUGGED INTO her backpack then grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase. Slowly, reluctantly she followed her roommates and new best friends from the cabin they’d shared for the past two weeks.

She’d had the time of her life here at Princess Camp and she wasn’t ready for it to end. She’d never be ready for it to end.

“Amanda, come on.” Michelle, a bouncing blonde dressed as Sleeping Beauty, waved her along. “If we don’t get to tea early, we won’t get to sit together.”

“I’m not hungry.” She winced at the petulant note in her voice. She detested petulance.

Grandmother’s displeasure came across as petulant, and oh how she would hate it if she knew. A professor at an elite Northern California University, she was a brilliant woman, disciplined in both manner and emotion. She rarely allowed a show of temper, which was a good thing, because it wasn’t a pretty look on her.

“Well, I’m starved.” Elle, beautiful as Belle, gave Michelle a significant look and they both came back to hook an arm through each of Amanda’s, drawing her forward.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” she whispered, not wanting it to be a whine.

“I’m going to miss the scones,” Elle declared. “Hurry.”

“Our time’s not up yet, silly.” Michelle told Amanda, refusing to be rushed. “We have the tea, and then the closing ceremony. There’s lots of time left.”

Something in her voice made Amanda turn to study Michelle’s profile. “You don’t want to leave, either.”

“None of us want to leave.” Elle sighed, brushing her mahogany curls behind her. “But I don’t want our last day to be sad either.” She stopped on the path and turned to face them. “We have to all promise to come back next year.” She held up her hand, little finger raised high. “Pinkie swear you’ll do everything you can to come back.”

Michelle immediately hooked her pinkie finger with Elle’s. “I’ll start working on my dad as soon as I get home. He owes me for missing parents’ day.”

Amanda’s hand curled into a fist as sadness bloomed into despair. “It would have been better if my grandparents didn’t come to parents’ day. Grandmother has already said she felt the camp misrepresented itself as having a curriculum of etiquette and decorum when it was clearly a production of fantasy and frivolity.”

Her friends blinked at her.

“You mean she doesn’t like the camp because they let us play princess while teaching us manners?” Elle said.

Amanda nodded. “I doubt I’ll be able to talk her into letting me come again.”

“Is that why they only stayed an hour on parents’ night?” Michelle asked.

“No.” She worried the end of her long strawberry blond braid. “They had another engagement. Grandmother was hosting a reception for a visiting professor. They have them all the time.”

“She couldn’t do that another night?” Michelle demanded, reaching for Amanda’s hand. She, too, knew how it felt to come second to duty.

“It doesn’t matter. I would have been nervous if they’d stayed for the talent show.”

“Afraid Grandmother wouldn’t approve?” Michelle guessed.

Amanda shrugged, feeling it would be disloyal to agree even if it was true. She longed to come back next year. Her grandparents were very protective of her and the university life was restrained and structured, with not much to offer a ten-year-old. And Grandmother didn’t like it when Amanda made a fuss about things.

But then some things were worth making a fuss over. Like precious friends. Looking from Elle to Michelle, Amanda slowly lifted her hand and hooked her pinkie with theirs.

“I promise to keep in touch. And to do everything I can to be here next year.”

Fifteen years later

XAVIER MARCEL LEDUC, Commandant of the Royal Pasadonian Republican Guard was ready to go home. For six months he’d been away, traveling with the crown jewels on an extended American tour that started in New York and would end here in San Francisco.

He ran his gaze over the well-dressed crowd. Tonight was a pre-event viewing, for the social elite and members of the museum, and privileged donors. Hardly a high risk crowd. All the more reason to be on guard, in his opinion. And as the senior officer in charge of the crown jewels’ security, his opinion counted.

He saw her the moment she walked into the room, a breath of fresh air in a throng of perfumed elegance. She wore a black ruffled skirt that ended a few inches above her knees topped by a black sweater with beaded trim. Young and chic, her only adornment was her creamy white skin and the vibrant fall of red gold hair that reached the top of her lovely derrière.

An attractive blond accompanied her through the exhibit, but it was the redhead who held his attention. Not only was she lovely, something about her was familiar.