A Prince at Last! Read online

  Celeste backed away from him, her eyes wide. “It wasn’t my idea,” she shrieked. “It was all Claude’s fault.”

  “Claude?”

  “Claude Guignard. He panicked, and he took Juliet.”

  “Took her where?” Luc loomed over Celeste as she sank back onto the ivory-and-gold pillows of her lush sofa.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not buying that. Your ten seconds is just about up,” he growled. “Don’t make me force you into telling me what you know.”

  “The warehouse,” Celeste babbled, her upper lip dotted with sweat. “He took her to an abandoned warehouse…by the river…you’ll find her locked up there.”

  “You’d better pray that I do find her and that she’s unharmed. You’d better pray real hard, Celeste.”

  Luc left her cowering on the couch.

  A second after he closed the doors, he heard her furious curses followed by the sound of something—a vase perhaps—smashing against the wall. “Don’t let anyone in or out,” he ordered the two guards he’d posted at either side of the entrance. “Under any circumstances.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Luc heard Juliet before he saw her. He heard her singing a Sting song. At the top of her lungs.

  He and the rest of his security force broke down the locked door into the warehouse as well as the one in the storage room. And then he had her safe in his arms.

  She insisted on trying to tell him something about Celeste’s baby, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Juliet.

  He cupped her dusty face with his hands. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

  “I’m fine. I’m so glad you’re here.” She touched his cheek as if to confirm he was indeed real.

  Luc took her into his arms again, kissing every inch of her face.

  “Luc, I’m trying to tell you something important. Celeste switched babies with Yvette. Her child is actually a girl. This girl.” She pointed to the baby in the bassinet.

  “She screams almost as loudly as Celeste,” he noted ruefully.

  Juliet laughed unsteadily. “Her diaper needs changing. The baby, I mean. Not Celeste. I’m babbling again, aren’t I? I knew you’d come, I kept telling myself you’d come. I’m so thirsty.”

  Luc quickly handed her a chilled bottle of water even as he nodded to his security officers to assist Yvette and her baby.

  “Let’s get you out of here and back to the palace.” Luc kept his arm around Juliet as he guided her to his waiting car, complete with a driver.

  “Did you hear what I said about Celeste swapping babies?” Juliet asked as the sedan sped through the streets to the palace, led by a police escort that cleared the way through busy late-afternoon traffic.

  “Yes, I heard.” In the back seat of the large sedan, Luc tucked Juliet’s head onto his shoulder and rested his chin atop her head, his arm remaining firmly around her as if he were afraid she might disappear at any moment.

  “I promised Yvette you’d get her baby boy back for her.”

  “I will.” He ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing it out.

  “You don’t seem surprised by the news.”

  “Nothing Celeste does surprises me any longer.”

  “So now you believe me? I told you she was up to something.”

  “Aside from swapping babies, she also conspired with Berg Dekker to overthrow the governments of Rhineland and St. Michel.”

  “Oh, my.” Juliet blinked in surprise. “She has been busy. Where is she now?”

  “Under house arrest at the palace.”

  “So it’s over?”

  Touching her chin, he gently lifted her face to his. “One chapter is over, but the next is just beginning.”

  Thinking about the future made her stomach do somersaults in an unpleasant way. Juliet nervously swallowed a lump in her throat. “The dowager queen told me that the Privy Council would be meeting soon to declare you the king. I imagine that will be done even faster now.”

  Luc nodded, his expression growing more solemn. He might have said more, but they had arrived at the palace and his attention was required as he was bombarded with questions and demands from the prime minister the moment they stepped out of the sedan.

  Juliet and Luc were separated by the crowd of servants and government workers who’d gathered to welcome them back to the palace. “Juliet!” Luc shouted.

  “She’s being taken care of by the dowager queen,” the prime minister assured him, urgently tugging on his arm. “No need to concern yourself, your majesty. There’s much to be done if we are to make the announcement of your impending coronation to the people of St. Michel in the morning.”

  Your majesty. The prime minister had just called him your majesty. For the first time it really sank in. This was it. No more time for adjusting. No more dress rehearsals or protocol lessons. This was it.

  “Are you ready for the gala ball this evening?” the dowager queen asked as they took tea together in the White Drawing Room two days later.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Juliet dutifully replied, lying through her teeth.

  “I told you to call me Simone. Or Grandmama, as Jacqueline does.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Grandmama.” Flustered, Juliet set her teacup down before she dropped it. Her fingers trembled. Nothing about her life seemed real anymore. She hadn’t seen Luc since the prime minister had whisked him away almost forty-eight hours ago. Not in person, anyway. She’d seen him on the television as he’d addressed the nation. The dowager queen had been at his side, as had the three princesses. But not Juliet. Once again she was the outsider.

  “She’s nervous about the party tonight,” her sister declared. The purple dye had washed out and left Jacqueline’s hair its usual dark-blond color.

  The dowager queen appeared surprised by this revelation. “Why should you be nervous, Juliet? You’ve attended royal functions before.”

  “Tonight is different,” she replied.

  “She wants to look her best for Luc.”

  “Jacqueline!” Juliet was tempted to throw the tray of scones at her sister. But then her emotions had been on edge ever since she’d been parted from Luc.

  As promised, he’d reunited Yvette with her infant son. Yvette had stopped by to tell her the news, along with the information that Celeste had climbed down a drainpipe outside her apartment window and had escaped from the palace along with her lover Claude.

  The baby girl that Celeste had actually given birth to was in the safekeeping of a nanny at the palace while DNA testing was done to confirm the little one’s paternity. Should Claude turn out to be the biological father, then Yvette had offered to raise the baby along with her own son. Otherwise, if she truly was King Philippe’s daughter, Luc had vowed to take care of the little girl.

  Juliet could understand that with all that going on, he’d had his hands full. But he could have called her, written her an e-mail, something. He was in the same palace, having moved into the king’s apartments. If it weren’t for the servants, she wouldn’t know anything. What did it say about her that she felt closer to them than to the royal family?

  “Daydreaming about Luc?” Jacqueline teased her.

  Juliet’s fingers itched to reach for the scones and toss a few in Jacqueline’s direction, but she valiantly restrained herself once again. “No, I was thinking about the festivities this evening. It’s been a while since we’ve ever had such a grand party. Queen Regina once had a garden party and invited every citizen of St. Michel to come. I believe four thousand attended that event.”

  “Well, we haven’t gone quite that far, but everyone who’s anyone will be there tonight. Not just the aristocracy, but the business and education leaders as well.” The dowager queen took a sip of tea. “The event is meant to introduce the country to their new king. As you know, the coronation will take place at the end of the week.”

  “Two days from now. I had no idea you’d be able to arrange everything that quickly.”

  “We’ve
had the procedure in place for hundreds of years. And we’ve been waiting since my son’s passing to crown the next king. It promises to be a joyous occasion.”

  “So, Juliet, are you wearing that revealing Versace gown like the one Jennifer Lopez wore to the Grammy Awards?” Jacqueline’s eyes gleamed with devilish humor.

  “No, I’m going to wear that gown,” the dowager queen replied, without batting an eye.

  Juliet and Jacqueline both burst into laughter—Jacqueline with delight, Juliet with guilty pleasure. Putting her hand to her lips, Juliet eyed the older woman uncertainly before relaxing upon seeing the dowager queen’s smile.

  “And I’m sure you’ll look lovely in it…Grandmama,” Juliet said.

  “Thank you, Juliet. And what about you? What are you wearing this evening?”

  “Something that covers her from head to toe probably,” Jacqueline replied on her behalf.

  “Since the infamous Versace gown is already taken—” Juliet shared a grin with the dowager queen “—I guess I’ll have to make do with something else.”

  “Something else that covers her from head to toe.” Jacqueline’s voice was gloomy as she reached for another tea cake, this one shaped like a flower.

  “You don’t have to make do with anything,” the dowager queen told Juliet. With a tilt of her regal head she motioned to the footman on duty, who opened the doors and ushered in a chic-looking woman dressed in a gorgeous suit the shade of periwinkle. “This is Madame Chantille, the most talented dress designer in all of Europe.”

  “You are too kind, your highness.”

  “And these are my granddaughters. Do you think you can fix them up a bit for tonight’s party?”

  Madame Chantille studied them for a moment before nodding emphatically. “Leave them in my capable hands, ma’am, and I’ll transform them into the belles of the ball.”

  Luc tried not to sigh impatiently as his valet slipped on his jacket for him. He’d been putting on his own jacket for more than twenty years, but now that he was a king he was no longer allowed that luxury.

  The royal attire featured the deep blue and red of St. Michel’s national colors. The military-style jacket was filled with medals along the right breast pocket, each one indicating some special point in the country’s history. Luc hadn’t had time to learn the names of all the medals yet, he’d been too busy trying to memorize his lines for the coronation on Sunday.

  The Privy Council had performed a private ceremony with only themselves present so that Luc could assume his duties immediately. And what a mountain of paperwork had awaited him! He’d had nonstop meetings with the cabinet members of the government and had hardly slept since returning to the palace, but what irked him most was that he had yet to see Juliet.

  He’d sent her a corsage for tonight and told her to save him the first dance. He’d also assigned a guard to watch her, wanting to make sure she was safe even though Celeste and Claude had fled the continent and were on their way to South America, to a country without an extradition agreement with St. Michel. He did take some pleasure in knowing that the royal jewels she’d taken with her were fakes, replaced by the dowager queen when her son had first announced his engagement to Celeste.

  It was easier for Luc to think of King Philippe as the dowager queen’s son than as his own father. In his heart of hearts, Albert would always be his father. Albert had sent his regrets that he couldn’t attend the festivities tonight, but said he’d be there for the coronation ceremony on Sunday.

  The promise of seeing Juliet tonight was the one thing that had kept Luc going. His valet placed the rich red satin royal banner across Luc’s chest and pinned it in place with the Cross of St. Michel. Luc looked in the mirror…and saw a king.

  Twenty minutes later Luc looked across the crowded Crystal Ballroom…and saw Juliet.

  Juliet had never seen the Crystal Ballroom look lovelier. Except perhaps for that night when she’d attempted to give Luc dancing lessons, when he’d lit candles and played Strauss waltzes on a boom box. The first time he kissed her. Tonight a string quartet provided the music and the priceless Austrian crystal chandeliers were all lit up, showering the room with mini-rainbows dancing off the numerous tiers of faceted crystals.

  The mirrored walls reflected the beautiful people in their gorgeous gowns and elegant tuxedos. Footmen, attired in their most formal livery of red jackets and pants, were stationed around the perimeter of the huge ballroom, ready with silver trays of slender Bohemian crystal fluted glasses filled with St. Michel’s best champagne.

  Juliet also caught sight of the three de Bergeron sisters. The romantic Marie-Claire was with her aristocratic businessman husband Sebastian, who could give George Clooney a run for his money. At one point in the search for the missing heir, Sebastian’s manipulative mother had claimed that he was Katie’s child. Juliet could only imagine how upset that must have made Marie-Claire, who was already half in love with him. The truth had come out, and Sebastian had gone on to marry Marie-Claire in a lovely ceremony.

  Ariane, the middle sister, was laughing at something her husband Prince Etienne of Rhineland had just said to her.

  The eldest princess, Lise, was gazing up adoringly at her new husband Charles Rodin. Lise, several months pregnant, had that wonderful glow about her. Juliet had never seen her look happier.

  All three woman looked stunning with their blond hair and light eyes. Juliet was certain that the dowager queen didn’t have to call in a specialist to help any of them. They all knew what to wear, how to look gorgeous naturally. It had taken a team of five to make Juliet look this good.

  But she did look good. Even she was willing to acknowledge that much. In fact, she looked almost beautiful.

  Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrored walls, she almost didn’t recognize herself. Madame Chantille had chosen a magically divine dress in white and silver that shimmered with every step Juliet took. The strapless top hugged her body, showing off her bare shoulders, while the rich drape of the material added grace to her appearance by its sheer elegance as it curved in at her waist before flaring out in a full-length skirt. Her hair, behaving perfectly for once, was arranged in a cascade of curls falling from the top of her head.

  She hoped Luc recognized her. She had yet to catch sight of him.

  The ceiling-to-floor French doors were open to the large terrace leading down to the gardens, allowing the fragrance of old-fashioned roses to perfume the room. Juliet paused to smile and chat with one of the footmen who’d recently become engaged.

  Her sister tugged on her arm. “Did you see Luc? Talk about a hottie!”

  Juliet didn’t even bother reprimanding her sister. “Where is he?”

  “On his way over here. Ten people have stopped him to talk with him, so it’s taking him a while, but he’s almost here. Hey, Spyman, how’s it going?”

  Luc smiled. “I haven’t spilled anything yet, Muffin, so I’d say it’s going okay. Better now that your sister is here. You look breathtaking, Juliet.”

  She shyly lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you.”

  His vivid blue eyes searched her face, then wandered over her body in a visual tour that was as seductive as a touch. The surrounding crowd seemed to fade into the background as Juliet’s entire focus was fixed on him.

  He looked incredibly good in the formal attire of the King of St. Michel. Still, she’d always have a special affection for him wearing his biker black jeans and black T-shirt. And then there was his classy sophistication in a tuxedo. Tonight he had a regal bearing that suited him well but made her very aware of his newfound position.

  “I see you’re wearing the corsage I sent you.” His voice was husky.

  “Yes.”

  “You two are just a fountain of dazzling conversation,” Jacqueline mocked them both. “I’m off to find a drink. A soft drink, so you can relax, big sister. Did you know she could look this good, Spyman?”

  “She always looks good to me,” Luc replied.

&n
bsp; His smile made Juliet feel like Cinderella at the ball. But she didn’t have long to bask in the moment before the prime minister interrupted them.

  “There you are, your majesty. It’s time for you to speak to the crowd. Actually, we’re already ten minutes behind schedule.” With his pewter-grey hair and mustache, the normally dignified statesman appeared a tad agitated. “We can’t delay any longer.”

  “Wait for me,” Luc told Juliet. “I’ll be back.”

  As the two men made their way to the decorated dais at the corner of the ballroom, Juliet heard the comments from the women around her—comments about Luc’s good looks and his being proclaimed Europe’s most eligible bachelor in the tabloids that morning.

  As the crowd moved forward to hear Luc’s official statement welcoming everyone to the palace tonight, Juliet chose to stay by the cooling breeze wafting in through the open French doors. She was admiring how well Luc held himself, how confidently he spoke to the huge crowd, when a man’s voice from her past interrupted her.

  “Still spending your time daydreaming, Juliet?”

  “Armand!” Her stomach dropped as she turned to face him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m an invited guest, just as you are.”

  Clearly his way of making her feel like an outsider in the palace. Looking at him now she was astonished that she’d ever thought him good-looking. Not that he’d changed that much. But she had.

  She was older and wiser now. She could see the lines of weakness in his tanned face, the meanness beneath his surface smile, the self-absorption of his entire attitude. He had light-brown hair perfectly cut and a square jaw that suited a male model. But there was no one inside the pretty outer shell.

  Luc had more sex appeal in his little finger than Armand could ever have. She’d been lucky to have discovered Armand for the shallow man he was before it had been too late.

  That didn’t mean she wanted to have a conversation with him now, or at any other time for that matter.