mind she was already as good as married to Alphie. She was going to have to begin making plans again.
She looked at him, and it was suddenly as though the sun had broken through the clouds. She understood something about him she hadn’t realized before. His first allegiance was to his country. He could never be like her, ready to throw it all away and dash for the border. He loved his country, he lived for his country, and he would never do anything to harm it. To him, royalty was the life’s blood of this land. Though on the surface one would think of him as a philandering playboy, the Andre inside wasn’t that way at all. He was good, responsible and true—a man you could depend on. And she loved him all the more for it.
She didn’t want to marry Alphonso. She hated the thought of it. But how was she going to be able to convince a man like this to let her out of her commitment? It wasn’t going to happen.
The day blended seamlessly into evening. There was a cold snap in the air, and Andre built a fire in the fireplace while she prepared dinner out of canned supplies she found in the kitchen. After eating, they sat on the couch in front of the fire, each with a glass of wine, and talked softly.
“Okay, Julienne,” he said grudgingly. “I have to admit it. You are a very good cook. Everything you make has some sort of special quality that raises it above normal cooking. You’ve got talent.”
She smiled. She already knew that, but to have him notice made it so much more important.
“But as a princess of the realm,” he said, “I don’t know how you ever thought you could get away with going to pastry school somewhere.”
She nodded. “I’ve thought about it long and hard,” she told him. “And looked into resources. And from what I’ve managed to learn, I think the best thing would be to start a national culinary institute right here in Gemania.” She shrugged. “If I actually had the power, I would bring the instructors to me.”
He nodded. “Have you spoken to Alphonso about it?” he asked.
She stared at him, color draining from her face. Didn’t he understand? Alphonso was not going to be a part of her life. It just couldn’t happen. What he thought had nothing to do with her future. But there was no point in arguing about that. She didn’t want to ruin their last evening together.
A bit later she watched him staring moodily into the flame and knew she was the source of his problems. She had a strong impulse to go over and take his hand, smile up at him and tell him, It’s all right. I’ll do it. Anything that will make you smile again.
But she would be lying, because it was something that she really couldn’t do.
She realized now she’d had a dream in her head when she’d come looking for him. She’d thought he would look up and see her and electricity would zap between them and he would realize she really was the only one for him. She’d even gone so far as to fantasize him saying, If I can’t have you, no one can, and then they would come together for a passionate kiss, then run off to the South Seas to live on a tropical island under assumed names. It sounded good to her. Obviously he didn’t agree.
Turning toward him, she pulled her legs up under her and leaned back against the pillows.
“Do you remember when you kissed me?” she asked him.
He raised one dark eyebrow. “Do you mean last night?”
“No, not that time. At my eighteenth birthday party. The last dance.”
She held her breath, watching his reaction. Did he remember? Or was it so normal for him to kiss a woman he was dancing with that the kiss she held as so special was just one of many in his mind.
He turned toward her slowly, and then he nodded, his eyes dark in the firelight. “I remember,” he said softly.
She laughed with relief. “I’ve lived off of that kiss for three years.”
Frowning, he turned away and stared into the fire. “Well, you shouldn’t have. That was the catalyst, the reason I had to stay away from you.”
“Because of a kiss?”
He glanced back at her. “Because of an emotion. I knew if I was near you….” He turned away and shook his head. “Well, I think you