her, aghast. “Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
“Because I wanted to be in the kitchen, not reciting lessons to the Duchess. It worked out better for both of us. She had her thing. I had mine.”
He groaned. Guilt was piling up all around him. If he’d thought about it he would have realized the Duchess wasn’t living up to her agreements. But he was as bad as Julienne. When he came to the castle, he’d wanted to be with her, not quizzing the Duchess to see if she had been a hard enough taskmaster.
“Oh, don’t worry. I had my lessons with the governess in the morning. I got plenty done.”
“Well, I guess that’s a relief.”
“And then I went to the convent. At first they wouldn’t let me into the kitchen at all. But about six months into my stay the convent cook came down with hives and someone had to take over the cooking. The next thing you know I was in there, baking away.” She smiled, remembering. Happy memories. “When I volunteered they were all relieved, and even after she got over the hives and came back she was glad to have my help in the kitchen. She taught me a lot.”
He was shaking his head. “No one ever told me.”
“No? Why should they?” She threw him a scathing look. “By that time you’d decided to wash your hands of me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m only taking off the rose-colored glasses and facing reality. You stayed away. You left me to my own devices. What did you expect? You’re just lucky I didn’t decide to become a bomb-throwing Marxist. Plenty of royals are into that these days.”
That made him smile, and that was a relief. Life was better when the Prince was smiling.
She remembered how it had been when she’d first come to the Diamante castle to live after her parents had died. At first she’d been afraid of him. He’d seemed so tall, so strong—so unsmiling. But then she’d become more comfortable around him and their relationship had blossomed into something close to friendship.
He’d made it a point to eat at least one meal with her a day when he was at home in the castle—just the two of them. Those were the times she really treasured. She’d had to sit through a hundred stern lectures about how she should behave, but it was worth it. When the lecture was over, his hard, handsome face would soften with affection and he would ask her how her day had gone, or what she’d learned from her governess, or they would take the horses out and ride over the hills. He was wonderful. He was her life.
That all changed when she turned eighteen. He authorized a big party for her birthday. Her aunt invited a hundred young people from royal and noble families. There were afternoon games and then a sumptuous feast in the great hall, and finally a ball that lived up to all her fantasies. Even now, when she closed her eyes, it all came back to her—the swirling lights, the throbbing music, the excitement, the colors. The young men had all wanted to dance with her and the young women wanted to be her friend. For the first time in her life she was the center of it all. It was intoxicating—a magical night.
But best of all was the last dance at midnight. And that dance, of course, was with the Prince.
She still remembered the song that had been playing—”The Look of Love”. They had swayed together without either of them saying a word, and she’d felt as though she’d entered a dream. They were out on the terrace, away from all the others. There was moonlight, shadows and music—and a gorgeous man in her arms. The song began to fade away and she looked up, yearning toward him. His mouth was there, and then the kiss. Slow and deep and delicious, it awakened senses in her body she hadn’t known she had. And then he pulled away, and others surged out onto the terrace, and it was over.
But everything changed after that.
She had to admit she’d had her daydreams, even though she knew there was no reason for it. Thinking of that now, she sighed and sank against the back of his leather jacket, holding on to him as though she could hold on to the dream as well.
They entered the peaceful valley that led to Giselle’s home about an hour later. Andre was