Lisa Laurel - The Prince's Bride

Julie gave a sheepish grin. “I kind of fell for Erik,” she explained.

“When?” asked Annah.

“Ages ago,” Julie said, secure in the knowledge that now she was neither so young nor so naive. At sixteen, she had thought she’d found the love of her life, but he had obviously not felt the same inexorable pull of destiny that she had. At twenty-five she hardly spent her days pining over him.

Still, to be honest, she had to admit that she seemed unable to erase him from her mind completely. She had always wondered what would happen if she got a grown-up chance to see whether her young intuition had been on target. The king’s change of plans had given her an excellent opportunity to satisfy her curiosity. Naturally she had no real expectations; but Julie was an incurable optimist, and optimism sometimes has very little to do with what is realistic. Somewhere inside her lived the battered, but still breathing, hope that someday, somehow, she might have another chance to try to win Erik’s heart. And she knew that seeing him tonight at the ball would either resuscitate that hope or give it the blow that would lay it to rest for good.

Uncannily Drew read her thoughts. “You aren’t really interested in him, are you, Julie?” She sounded concerned.

Julie didn’t answer.

“Everyone has things that they keep from even their best friends,” observed Annah as she put the finishing touches on Julie’s hair.

It was true, Julie knew. Annah herself avoided any reminders of the painful circumstances surrounding her divorce. And Drew never talked about Lexi’s father; had in fact kept his identity a secret, even from them. Close as the three were, they respected each other’s privacy.

“You can come in now, Drew,” Annah said at last.

Drew stopped in the doorway and stood there, star-ing, while Julie turned around in the middle of the room. Drew was the most down-to-earth person she knew. If Julie looked like a hooker on a holiday, Drew would have no qualms about telling her so.

“Well, Drew?” Julie said.

“You’re absolutely stunning, kid. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“That makes two of us,” Julie said, staring at her reflection in the floor-length mirror Annah steered her over to. She hardly recognized herself, with her hair up like this. Annah had been right about what the color of the dress would do for her eyes, too. As for the dress itself, it was a bit of shapely, shimmering magic, hugging curves that Julie hadn’t realized she had. She swallowed. “But isn’t it a little on the—”

“Sexy side?” Drew supplied.

“Omigosh. Too sexy?”

“Not too sexy,” Annah assured her quickly. “Classy sexy. Understated sexy.”

Drew rolled her eyes. “Understated? When she walks through that ballroom, testosterone levels will hit the danger zone.”

Julie knew that Drew, who never exaggerated, must be doing it now—even though it was a heady thought.

“Every woman needs a night like that in her life,” Annah said.

“I’m not really a guest at the ball,” Julie reminded them and herself. “I’m the hired help. Maybe I’d better try on the black one.”

She did, and wondered who ever had come up with the idea that black was sexy and sophisticated. On her, basic black was basic boring. Worse. She looked like a cadaver.

Lexi was the first to speak. “Before you looked like a princess,” she said, looking up at Julie. “Now you look like a lady-in-waiting.”

“What do you two think?” Julie asked her friends.

“The blue.” Annah gave her vote firmly.

“The blue,” Drew agreed.

Julie looked in the mirror and decided that she was tired of being a lady-in-waiting. “All right, all right,” she said laughingly. “I’ll be a princess.”

Julie walked into the castle kitchen and helped herself to a sample from a tray of hors d’oeuvres on the counter.

“Mmm,” she said, smiling up into the frown of the head chef. “Is the rest of the food this good, Gustave?”

“How would I know?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. “I have spent the afternoon doing your job, mademoiselle.”

“Oh, then you took care of things while I was gone?”

“Of course. And right now half of the tradesmen in America are in the ballroom awaiting your instructions.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Julie said, giving him an impetuous kiss on the cheek.

The phone rang. “And that’s another thing,” he pointed out. "Mademoiselle, surely even in this godforsaken corner of America you have heard of answering machines.”

“I didn’t think of turning it on, since you were here,” Julie said, adding impishly, “Did the phone ring while I was gone?”

“Incessantly,” he said with a sniff. “I managed to ignore it, until the last time.”

“Who was it?”

“His Highness, the crown prince.”

Julie spun around. Erik called? “What did he say?”

Gustave was busy tasting a sauce that an underling held out to him on a spoon. He gave a few curt instructions, while Julie thought she would burst out of her skin, waiting.

“He said he needed to speak with you privately on an urgent matter and would call back.” He nodded toward the ringing phone. “That would be he, I suppose.”

Julie ran into the library and grabbed the phone. It was indeed Erik.

“Hello, Julie,” he said, his deep voice setting something inside her vibrating.

Her answer was barely a whisper. “Prince Erik.”

He seemed to hesitate before speaking again, and when he did, there was a new warmth in his voice. “It’s…been a while.”

“Yes. It has.” Her stomach gave another one of those weightless lurches, as if she had swallowed a helium balloon. Ignoring it, she warned herself against reading any sentimentality into his end of the conversation. He was no doubt calling on business, now that he was hosting the ball. In a voice that she optimistically told herself sounded perfectly calm, she added, “If you’re calling about tonight, the arrangements are nearly all in place.”

“I imagine so. This is probably not the best time to spring a surprise on you.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes,” he said. “And my plans depend on you, Julie.”

Something in his voice told her that he was talking about a matter of far more consequence than rearranging the seating at the ball, but she refused to allow herself to indulge in any wild speculations. “Your father places great trust in me,” she assured him professionally.

“He has made no secret of that fact.”

His response warmed her. “I understand you saw the king this morning,” she said. “How is he?”

“Not good,” he said soberly.

Julie couldn’t disguise the worry in her voice. “Your Highness, what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing that I can’t rectify,” he said. “Medically, the king’s progress has been fair, but it is being impeded by his preoccupation with the succession. Given how closely you work with him, I assume he has shared with you his great desire that I choose a bride.”

“He has mentioned his—ah, concern,” Julie admitted.

Erik seemed amused. “His Majesty will have no reason to question my devotion to duty, after tonight. Everything has been arranged, except for the announcement itself.”

Julie frowned, puzzled. “I—I beg your pardon?"

“My father’s worries will end at midnight,” Erik explained. “When I announce my engagement.”

Alone in her tower room, the highest point in the castle, Julie looked at her hair with satisfaction. The style was cool and sophisticated, which was exactly the image she wanted to project tonight at the ball. Especially to herself.