A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,125

in the Riviera romancing a Hollywood starlet.

“Dani!” Marie exclaimed, and the women embraced. She pulled back and performed introductions. “Daniela Martinez, this is my friend, Maximillian von Hansburg. Max, this is Leo’s good friend Dani.”

“I thought you had a . . . date,” Leo said as Dani and Max shook hands. He wasn’t sure how to phrase it. I thought you were trying to get with a B-list American celebrity on a yacht off the coast of Monaco felt a little too uncouth, even for him.

“Yes, well, it turned out that the young lady in question had a, ah . . . prior engagement she’d forgotten about with a gentleman friend of hers who walked in on us . . . engaging.” He made a face of fake contrition.

“Max is a slut,” Marie said matter-of-factly to Dani.

“A slut and a scholar,” Max said indignantly. He turned his attention to Dani. “As, I understand, you are, too, Dr. Martinez.” Then he suddenly looked genuinely contrite. “A scholar, I mean. Not a slut.”

Dani didn’t have time to process any of this because Canine Max started barking from inside the car. She turned and accepted the travel crate from the driver. “Would it be all right to let him out here?”

“Of course,” Marie said.

Soon, he was yapping and jumping around so excitedly he was practically levitating.

“Max!” Dani said sharply. “Sit.”

Max—the dog—started yapping even louder.

Max—the duke-to-be—said “I beg your pardon?”

Marie laughed. “Max, meet Max.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Max narrowed his eyes in mock indignation. “I’m not sure I approve of this. If I’m going to have a dog named after me, I’d much prefer it to be a manly dog. A hound of some sort, perhaps.”

“Can dogs be manly, though?” Dani asked. “Aren’t they just . . . dogly? Anyway, I just met you, so he’s not named after you.”

“How long are you here?” Max asked Dani.

“A week.”

“Can I take you to dinner? Tomorrow perhaps?”

Leo chuckled. You had to admire Max’s direct approach.

“Nope,” Dani said cheerfully.

You had to admire Dani’s, too. “Dani’s post-men,” Leo offered, enjoying watching her shoot Max down.

“Well, isn’t that too bad for the men of the world,” Max said, but he actually seemed sincere. He’d dropped his signature bored-aristocrat tone and he was looking at Dani with curiosity.

“Actually,” Marie said, “here’s one more introduction to make.” She turned to Dani. “Best woman, meet man of honor.” And to Max she said, “Man of honor, meet best woman. Dani’s here for a visit but also for a dress fitting.”

“Well,” Max drawled, “isn’t this going to be interesting?”

“Leo, this is amazing!” Dani turned around, taking in the interior of the cabin in the woods.

“It is, isn’t it?” Marie beamed.

Leo waved off the praise, but he was pretty proud of the place. It was why he’d wanted to bring Dani here before showing her the palace. He and Kai had reverted to the original plan for a sleeping loft, but they’d also extended the main floor so there was a cozy little den and an office alcove where Leo worked on his drawings.

“Leo and Marie basically live here,” Gabby said.

“Really? How’d you manage that?” Dani asked.

He wasn’t really sure. They’d just . . . started staying over more and more and so far, the king had not objected. There had been a few pointedly raised eyebrows when they showed up for breakfast in their outerwear, clearly having hiked up from the cabin, but he hadn’t actually said anything.

In fact, the only thing Emil had expressly said about the matter of Leo and Gabby moving to Eldovia was that he expected everyone at the palace for dinner each night at seven. Leo had been expecting peevish demands regarding protocol and behavior. He’d been prepared to sign the mother of all prenuptial agreements. But it seemed like the king, while still his cranky, slightly snobbish self, was trying. Their dinners were less frosty and, when the conversation turned to books—he and Gabby had formed a little book club of sorts—almost pleasant. Gabby, it seemed, was working her magic on him. Or something was. Maybe it was just more of the fairy-tale mojo that seemed to have infected Leo’s life.

Speaking of the king . . . A knock at the cabin door heralded the arrival of a palace worker—Leo refused to call them footmen. “His Majesty requests the honor of your presence for cocktails in the green parlor so he may welcome Dr. Martinez and the baron.”

“Well,” Max said, picking up Dani’s bag, “that is not