Not-So-Perfect Princess. Barbara WallaceЧитать онлайн книгу.
while sailing had been pleasant enough, but nothing like the passion she’d overheard other women discussing. Perhaps with Prince Enrique …
The helicopter landed on a helipad. The engine stopped. The rotor’s rotation slowed. Her hand trembled, making her work harder to unbuckle her harness. Finally she undid the latch. As they exited, a uniformed staff member placed their luggage onto a wheeled cart.
“Welcome to La Isla de la Aurora, Your Royal Highness Crown Prince Brandt and Your Royal Highness Princess Julianna.” An older man in a gray suit bowed. “I am Ortiz. Prince Enrique sends his regrets for not meeting you himself, but he is attending to important state business at the moment.”
“We understand.” Brandt smiled. He might not be the typical statesman, but no one could fault his friendliness. “State business comes first.”
Jules looked around at the potted plants and flowering vines. A floral scent lingered in the air. Paradise? Perhaps.
“Thank you, sir.” Ortiz sounded grateful. “I am in charge of the palace and at your service. Whatever you need, I’ll see that you have it.”
Jules glanced at Brandt, whose grin resembled the Cheshire cat’s. She would have to make sure he didn’t take advantage of the generous offer of hospitality.
“The palace grounds are lovely, Ortiz,” she said. “Very inviting with so many colorful flowers and plants.”
“I am happy you like it, ma’am.” His smile took years off his tanned, lined face. “Please allow me to show you and your party inside.”
Klaus nodded. Her bodyguard, in his fifties with a crew cut and a gun hidden under his tailored suit jacket, had protected her for as long as she could remember.
“Lead the way, Ortiz,” she said.
As they walked from the helipad to the front door, Ortiz gave her a brief history lesson about the palace. She had no idea the royal family had ruled the island for so long. No doubt the continuous line of succession had impressed her father who would want to ensure a long reign for his grandchildren and the heirs that followed.
“Prince Enrique has done so much for the island,” Ortiz said. “A finer successor to King Dario cannot be found, ma’am.”
If only Jules knew whether the compliments were truthful or propaganda. She knew little about her future husband besides his name. “I’m looking forward to meeting Prince Enrique.”
Ortiz beamed. “He said the same thing about you at lunch-time, ma’am.”
A third good sign? Jules hoped so.
When they reached the palace entry, two arched wooden doors parted as if by magic. Once the heavy doors were fully open, she saw two uniformed attendants standing behind and holding them.
Jules stared at the entrance with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. If all went well—and she hoped it did—this palace would be her new home. She would live with her husband and raise her children here. She fought the urge to cross her fingers.
With a deep breath, she stepped inside. The others followed.
A thirty-foot ceiling gave the large marble tiled foyer an open and airy feel. Stunning paintings, a mix of modern and classical works, hung on the walls. A marble statue of a woman sitting in the middle captured Jules’s attention. “What an amazing sculpture.”
“That is Eos, one of the Greek’s second generation Titan gods,” Ortiz explained. “We are more partial to the Latin name, Aurora. Whichever name you prefer, she’ll always be the Goddess of the Dawn.”
“Beautiful,” Brandt agreed. “Eos had a strong desire for handsome young men. If she looked anything like this statue, I’m sure she had no trouble finding willing lovers.”
“Close the front doors,” a male voice shouted. “Now.”
The attendants pushed the heavy doors. Grunts sounded. Muscles strained.
“Hurry,” the voice urged.
The people behind Jules rushed farther into the foyer so the doors could be shut. The momentum pushed her forward.
A shirtless man wearing shorts ran toward the doors. Something black darted across the floor.
Yvette screamed. “A rat, Your Highnesses.”
“There are no rats in the palace,” Ortiz shouted.
The ball of black fur darted between Jules’s legs. Startled, she stumbled face-first.
“Catch her,” Klaus yelled.
Too late. The marble floor seemed to rise up to meet Jules though she was the one falling.
She stopped abruptly. Not against the floor.
Strong arms embraced Jules. Her face pressed against a hard, bare chest. Her cheek rested against warm skin. Dark hair tickled her nose. The sound of a heartbeat filled her ears. He smelled so good. No fancy colognes. Only soap and water and salty ocean air.
She wanted another sniff.
Ortiz shrieked. “Your Highnesses. Are either of you hurt?”
Highnesses? The man must be a prince. Her father had only spoken of the crown prince. No other brothers had been mentioned. Oh, if this were Enrique …
CHAPTER TWO
“JULES?” BRANDT sounded concerned.
“I’m fine,” Jules said quickly, more interested in the man—the prince—who saved her from hitting her face on the floor and still held her with his strong arms. Such wide shoulders, too.
Awareness seeped through her.
“My apologies.” His deep, rich voice and Spanish accent sent her racing pulse into a mad sprint. “The kitten darted out of the room before I could grab him.”
Ortiz raised his chin. “As I said, there are no rats in the palace, Princess.”
The prince inhaled sharply. She found herself being set upon her feet. But he kept hold of her, even after she was standing.
“Stable?” he asked.
She nodded, forcing herself not to stare at his muscular chest and ripped abs.
He let go of her.
A chill shivered through Jules. She wasn’t used to being in such close contact with anyone, but she missed having his nicely muscled arms around her.
She studied him, eager for a better look.
Over six feet tall with an athletic build, he looked more pirate than prince with shoulder-length dark brown hair, an earring in his left ear, khaki shorts and bare feet.
His strong jawline, high cheekbones and straight nose looked almost chiseled and made her think of the Eos sculpture. But his full lips and thick eyelashes softened the harsher features.
The result—a gorgeous face she would be happy to stare at for hours. Days. Years.
Jules’s heart thudded. “Thank you.”
Warm brown eyes met hers. Gold specks flickered like flames around his irises. “You’re welcome.”
Everyone else faded into the background. Time seemed to stop. Something unfamiliar unfurled deep inside her.
He swooped up a black ball of fur with one hand. The look of tenderness in his dark eyes as he checked the kitten melted her heart. She would love for a man—this man—to look at her that way.
The kitten meowed. As he rubbed it, he returned his attention to her. “You’re Princess Julianna from Aliestle.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” Jules had never believed in love at first sight until now. She hoped their children looked exactly like him. A