Lenora Worth - In Pursuit of a Princess

Remembering another woman in another place, he put on a blank expression and tried not to chafe at being in such a straightlaced setting.

“Call me Gabriel,” he said, thinking even though this was child’s play, at least the subject matter was...lovely to look at. The princess was honey-blonde and photogenic, no doubt about that. But Gabriel wanted to get down to the real woman behind that chignon and those designer pumps.

“Gabriel,” she said, coming to sit down on the settee across from the overstuffed chair where he’d landed. “So I understand you have a home here in New Orleans, too.”

“Yes.” He nodded, stared at the hot tea growing cold in front of him. “I grew up here, and when my mother died, I inherited a town house in the Quarter. So it’s not far from your home. One of the many reasons this assignment enticed me.”

That much was true at least. He didn’t mind some downtime in New Orleans. Good food, good jazz and a mirror of his own conflicted soul. Now he had a beautiful woman to admire, too.

“I’m sorry about your mother. Were you close?”

He wanted to say no, not really. His artistic, temperamental mother had stayed single and had never told him who his father was. Maybe that was why he’d become so nomadic. Seemed he was always searching for the truth. Instead he said, “We grew to be close as we both matured.”

She smiled at that. “Sometimes, growing up is hard work.”

“Yes.” He didn’t want to discuss his relationship with his mother. “Anyway, I have the town house here. So I’ll have my darkroom and some other equipment stashed away.”

“That’s convenient,” she said, sipping her tea with her pinkie precisely in the right place. “My parents bought this house when I was a toddler. They split their time between New Orleans and several foreign locations since my father was a diplomat—great for them and educational for me. After they retired and moved to Virginia, they left this house to Theo and me. We spent part of our honeymoon here.” Her vivid eyes went blank for a second. “I rarely get back here but this fundraiser is important. I want to continue the work Theo and I started in New Orleans.”

Gabriel finally lifted the tea and took a swallow. Bitter and tangy, the tepid liquid coated his dry throat. “New Orleans will certainly benefit from your efforts. This city needs all the help it can get after that flurry of hurricanes a few years back.”

She inclined her head, her pearl teardrop earrings trembling against her skin. “We started this foundation a year after the last big hurricane.”

Gabriel glanced around the big square parlor. “Did your home suffer any damage?”

“A good bit, but we moved most of the artwork before the storm and when we returned we rebuilt the house. I have a friend who rents the carriage house, but she’s on her honeymoon right now. Esther married a renowned adventurer and archaeologist—Cullen Murphy. You might have heard of him?”

Gabriel grinned. “Heard of him and had the pleasure of meeting him and the lovely Esther when we did a magazine shoot on the Levi-Lafitte Chocolate Diamond. They mentioned several locations in New Orleans, but obviously left your estate out for the sake of privacy. Amazing find, that.”

“Yes, Esther told me all about their big adventure. Lots of danger and intrigue, but they found the diamond and now it’s in a museum in Washington, I believe.”

“That’s right. So you know Esther and Cullen. It’s a small world.”

“Too small at times,” she said.

When a nearby cell phone rang, she excused herself and hurried to pick it up, surprising Gabriel. He figured she had servants in every corner to take care of such tasks. He’d already met one of them, a strange little lady who had introduced herself as Deidre. Deidre had brought him into this room and...disappeared immediately. He’d seen others, bodyguards and drivers and security teams. He’d been fully vetted before he could even take on this assignment and then a nice burly escort had met him, frisked him and brought him here. Gabriel had no doubt he was being watched even now.

“Hello?” Princess Lara turned toward him with an apologetic smile. “Hello?” Frowning, she hung up. “Wrong number.”

Gabriel wondered about that and why Deidre wasn’t fielding the phone calls. “Could be. Or maybe the photographers lined up outside are taking turns to see if you’re still in the house.”

“I told Deidre I was expecting some very important calls, but if this keeps up I’ll have to let her run interference.”

Ah, that explained that, then. A self-sufficient princess. He liked her already. But she could be a bit naive, too. “You know the paparazzi have a way of getting even the most private of numbers.”

She came to sit back down, a pretty frown marring her face. “You know all the tricks, I see.”

“A few.” He finished off the tea, then stared over at her. “But I want you to understand, while I’m trailing around after you, I will respect your privacy and your work. You’ll have full approval on any and all photographs that make the cut for RWN magazine as well as the accompanying content, I can assure you.”

She did the chin-lifting thing again—her way of nodding, he decided. “And when will we officially begin?”

Gabriel looked at his watch. “I’m on the clock right now.”

She stood as if to dismiss him but stopped. “Would you like to stay for dinner? We can go over my schedule. It can be a bit daunting if you’re not used to it.”

Surprised, Gabriel shrugged. He had to eat. Might as well get to know her over good food. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate that. I like to be prepared so, yes, a schedule would be great.”

“I’ll go and tell my assistant to ready our meal, then.”

Gabriel wondered if he wanted to eat anything cooked by Deidre. The little woman was so somber and skittish, she gave him the creeps. And it took a lot to scare Gabriel Murdock.

Maybe he should be more wary of the princess he was about to get to know on a personal level. After all, beauty and grace could hide a multitude of sins.

* * *

The man was sinfully handsome.

Lara took another bite of the catfish smothered in crawfish étouffée, her stomach almost recoiling at the rich New Orleans food. Her nerves weren’t the best these days. Since Theo’s death, she’d been an emotional wreck and her doctors had given her more sedatives and antidepressant pills than she cared to remember. But the pills didn’t help the never-ending ache in her heart. She pretended to take them, but most of the prescribed medication went down the drain. She had to have a clear head for the task ahead.

Tonight, she thought this distress might have more to do with the man sitting beside her at the antique Queen Anne table than the spicy food or a lack of pills. But those annoying hang-up calls hadn’t helped her nerves, either.

Gabriel Murdock ate the food with gusto, his manners impeccable even while he enjoyed each bite. He was buff and in shape, so he could afford the spicy sauce and crusty catfish. His hair was dark and curly, with just a hint of gray near the temples. His eyes were an interesting shade of brown—almost golden at times. She’d heard many tales regarding the renowned photojournalist, some of them good and some of them bad. “Infamous” was how Deidre had described him. He traveled light and often, never stayed in one place for long and was rumored to be one of the best at getting a story with just one shot of his camera. But he had also been involved in exposing corruption and righting wrongs by being nosy. Malcolm had thoroughly researched the man, but had given his okay to this assignment.

“He’ll be aware and on high alert,” Malcolm had told her. Apparently these were impressive qualities in a good photojournalist. “He tends to dig deep to get his stories.”