The Marine & The Princess Page 4

  “You’ll need a disguise, so no one will recognize you,” he was saying.

  “I’ll be sure to leave my tiara here,” she noted mockingly.

  “You do that. Do you own any jeans? I already know you don’t own any T-shirts.”

  “I’m sure they sell T-shirts in the hotel gift shop.”

  “Fine. Have Celeste play tourist and go down and buy one for you.”

  “An excellent idea. And one I’d actually already thought of myself,” she added.

  “Sure you say that now…”

  “A Von Volzemburg never lies,” she loftily informed him.

  “This from a woman who just told a huge whopper to her own father.”

  A woman. He’d just referred to her as a woman instead of a princess. A small thing, no doubt, but it felt huge in her own mind. Vanessa hugged the idea of Mark thinking of her as a woman instead of a princess.

  Goodness knew he’d kissed her the way a man kissed a woman. There had been nothing cordial or formal about the meeting of their lips. It had been sexy and exhilarating, passionate and intense. It had been better than the best chocolate ever concocted by the royal chocolatier—and that was saying something!

  Vanessa considered herself something of a connoisseur where chocolate was concerned. But she was a novice at male-female relationships. Which was ridiculous for a woman her age. She was almost thirty, for heaven’s sake. But the rules for her code of behavior were much stricter than they were for anyone else. She’d led a sheltered upbringing to put it mildly.

  “As I was saying, a Von Volzemburg never lies, unless they are fighting for their freedom. Back in 1456, King Frederick put a mark on the castle saying that it was infected with the plague. It kept the enemy forces away, and the castle survived.”

  “Well, you’re not going to survive the streets of New York City if you don’t fit in,” he warned her.

  “I understand perfectly.”

  Half an hour later, Mark stared at her in disbelief. “I thought you said you understood the concept of a disguise. Those tight-fitting jeans are sure to catch the attention of every male under the age of eighty!”

  She blushed. Okay, so the jeans were tight. She’d borrowed them from Celeste, who had no derriere at all to speak of. Now Mark made her feel like a stuffed sausage in the jeans.

  Sending a scorching look his way, she grabbed another outfit from the closet and marched back to the bathroom. This time he couldn’t complain about the fit of her slacks. The Valentino haute couture black pantsuit had been hand tailored to her body. The understated elegance made it a perfect fit with the silk chartreuse blouse.

  Opening the door, she posed against the doorway with chic nonchalance.

  Mark was clearly not impressed. “Why don’t you just put a sign around your neck saying I’m A Rich Princess, Kidnap Me.”

  This Marine was really starting to aggravate her now. “What kind of disguise are you proposing? Marx Brothers glasses and a mustache? Perhaps you’d like me to wear a Charlie Chaplin costume and swing a cane around?”

  “Nothing that drastic will be required, although you are getting a little closer to what I’m aiming for here. Tone down the sex appeal.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me. Tone down the sex appeal.”

  “I’ll have you know that this suit was designed by Valentino.”

  “I don’t care if it was designed by the pope, it makes you look too…” He made a motion with his hands.

  Was that some kind of Marine sign language? “Too what?”

  “Too good. Tone down your looks. Here, while you were in the bathroom I checked in my bag. I’ve got some sweats you can borrow.”

  “Sweats?” she repeated as if he’d said a dirty word.

  “Sweatpants and a sweatshirt.” He held them out for her. They were navy blue. Seeing that she made no effort to take them from him, he added, “They’re clean. I washed them before I packed them.”

  “How reassuring. What’s that lump on the sweatshirt?”

  “It’s a hood. We’ll put a baseball cap on your head, maybe add a flannel shirt, and presto, you’re no longer a princess.”

  “No, I’m dressed like a bum.”

  “Listen, Princess, we’re not aiming for any fashion awards,” he growled. “Our goal is to get out of here without being noticed.”

  “And you don’t think someone dressed so disreputably in such an elite hotel isn’t going to garner attention?”

  She had a point. Mark wasn’t pleased to have to admit that. He hadn’t been thinking clearly since he’d seen her in those skintight jeans. “All right. So wear the jeans and the T-shirt Celeste got from the gift shop.”

  “You said I looked fat in those jeans.”

  He gave her a startled look. “I did not.”

  “You said, and I quote you here, that the jeans were ‘tight fitting.”’

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So that means I’m too fat for them.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It means that you looked too good in them.”

  “That’s not how it sounded to me.”

  “Look, I’m not going to stand here and debate the issue with you.” He tossed the discarded T-shirt at her. “Put this back on along with the jeans and this sweatshirt. And tuck your hair under this Yankees baseball cap.”

  “You’re a baseball fan?”

  “Of course. I suppose you prefer cricket or polo maybe?”

  “Actually I love basketball, but the NBA hasn’t been the same since Michael Jordan retired.” She had the pleasure of seeing his startled expression before she closed the bathroom door.

  Vanessa did the best she could with what she had in hand. She’d discarded her jewelry but felt naked with nothing around her neck, so she put on the St. Christopher medal her mother had given her when she was a child. Studying her reflection in the mirror, she didn’t recognize herself. Which was a good thing, right? Anton, her security guard, wouldn’t recognize her either then.

  Vanessa definitely wouldn’t win any fashion contests. She’d deliberately omitted her normal beauty routine and had opted for a natural-colored lipstick as her only makeup.

  Opening the bathroom door, she informed Mark, “This is my final outfit. I’m not changing clothes again.”

  “You’ll do.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Let’s go. I believe you mentioned something about a fast-food restaurant on that list of yours. You feel like eating tacos or burgers?”

  “What about clothes? I can’t walk out of here with the things on my back and nothing else.”

  His hand dropped to his side and his mocking smile returned. “Of course you can’t. Why don’t we pack up the royal luggage, and then we’ll go to Burger King?”

  “Stop making fun of me.”

  “Then stop being ridiculous. I already put some of your stuff in my bag. The more you carry the harder it is to slip out unnoticed.”

  “You touched my things?”

  She made him sound like a pervert who’d been pawing through her lingerie drawer. He was just following orders here. “Look, all I did was take some necessary items of clothing.”

  “Show me.”

  “Fine.” He yanked the zip open on his duffel bag and showed her what he’d packed.

  “That won’t do.” She pulled out the sheer pink underwear and silk shirt. Marching over to the dresser, she proceeded to select other lingerie.

  “We don’t have all day,” he growled.

  She hesitated, still distracted by the thought of him touching her most intimate apparel. The image made her hot all over.

  In the end, Vanessa wasn’t sure what she stuffed into his duffel bag, it certainly wasn’t much. Some sensible underwear, a few tops. She decided she could buy the rest. She had some American money with her.

  “Are you ready, Princess?” he inquired mockingly.

  “Yes, Captain, I am. Are you?”

  “A Marine is always ready for whatever comes,” Mark autom
atically stated, but inside he was thinking that this mission was already turning out to be far more complicated than he’d anticipated.

  Chapter Four

  “Now what?” Vanessa whispered as she stood beside him next to the door leading from her bedroom to the hotel hallway. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Of course I have a plan. I’m a Marine Corps officer. That’s what we do. Plan.”

  “So what is the plan?”

  “While you were getting dressed, I asked Celeste to order lunch for you. Room service should be coming along anytime now….”

  “Actually the food is cooked by the royal chef in the hotel kitchen, and then a valet from the royal household brings up the meal. It’s royal protocol. To prevent anyone from tampering with the food.”

  “What, no royal taster?”

  He was half kidding but she replied, “He stays with my father at all times and doesn’t travel with me.”

  Boy, did she live in a different universe than he did. Cracking open the door just a tad, Mark looked down the hallway. The elevator doors opened.

  “Ah, here he comes. Get ready to move on my command.” Carefully closing the door, he waited as the valet went past that doorway to the main door leading to the elaborate suite. That’s where Anton was stationed. From there the royal guard had a clear view down both sides of the hallway. “We need to slip out while Anton’s attention is on that valet. Celeste said she’d distract him. I sure hope we can trust her.”

  “I trust her with my life,” Vanessa said.

  Mark wasn’t accustomed to trusting anyone other than a fellow Marine with his life. Sure he’d trust his own family, but they were all Marines, too. “Let’s go.” He hurried her through the door and down the hallway to the elevator.

  Vanessa’s heart beat faster as adrenaline flew through her body. She was doing it, she was making her great escape! Her adventure was about to begin. She couldn’t wait.

  Her hand was clasped in Mark’s as he kept their pace leisurely and deliberate. Running down the hall was sure to garner unwanted attention.

  Never had a hallway seemed so long. Finally they reached the elevator doors. Vanessa tried not to grin like a fool. Freedom. She could almost taste it.

  Eyeing the reflection in the mirrored panel above the elevator’s call button, Mark suddenly swore under his breath and tugged her into his arms.

  “Play along with me,” he whispered urgently, his lips almost touching hers. “Anton is watching us. I have to kiss you, so pretend you’re hot for me and kiss me back.”

  Vanessa was about to tell him that there was no way Anton could possibly recognize her in the ridiculous outfit she was in—with a baseball cap and sweatshirt hood on her head—when Mark’s mouth covered hers and captured her mumbled protest.

  Mark continued the kiss even as he backed her through the open doors into the waiting elevator. The minute the elevator doors closed, he quickly ended the kiss. Looking around, he whispered, “We’re clear.”

  There might not be anyone else in the elevator, but they certainly were not clear. Vanessa felt anything but clear. She felt completely befuddled and definitely irritated at his ability to kiss her one minute and toss her aside the next. Who did he think he was to treat her this way?

  Before she could voice her complaints, Mark put a finger to her mouth. Leaning close again, he whispered, “Elevator has surveillance cameras. Keep your head down and don’t say anything.”

  He’d put a baseball cap on his own head, the brim tugged low to cover more of his face. It was amazing that he’d been able to kiss her at all without the stiffened brims of their caps getting in the way. The man obviously had experience kissing in all kinds of situations.

  Draping an arm around her, Mark guided her through the busy lobby and out onto the street, where he turned right and headed away from Central Park at a brisk pace matched by the other New Yorkers on the sidewalk. Vanessa was breathless by the time they paused in front of a fast-food restaurant several long blocks away. She’d lost track of how many turns they’d made, but she hadn’t forgotten her irritation with him.

  She didn’t forget it…until he ushered her into the restaurant, and she smelled it—freshly made fries. Then everything else was erased as her mouth watered and her stomach growled.

  Standing in front of the stainless-steel counter, she looked up at the photographs of the selections in awe. What should she have? So many choices. She definitely wanted fries, so she told the perky young teenager, “I’ll have a large order of fries.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No. I want…” She stared at the items offered and couldn’t decide. They had chicken sandwiches, salads, hamburgers, ribs, fish sandwiches. Okay, not a salad. But did she want chicken or beef? Or fish?

  “Hurry it up,” Vanessa heard a man growl. It took her a moment to realize it wasn’t Mark who was complaining.

  Slinging his duffel bag over one shoulder, Mark hurriedly placed his order and added, “She’ll have a double-deluxe cheeseburger meal number four.”

  “Maybe I want chicken,” she protested.

  “And maybe you want to start a riot,” Mark quietly warned her. “There’s a huge line behind you.”

  “Here’s your change, sir,” the teenager said.

  “Thanks.” Grabbing their tray filled with food, Mark hustled her toward an empty booth in the corner.

  Ignoring him totally once they sat down, she focused her attention on her meal, gobbling a handful of French fries in the first two seconds. She closed her eyes in delight. Ah, heaven. Sheer heaven.

  Sure, while in America, she’d sometimes sent Celeste out to get her fries, but by the time she brought them back to the hotel they’d gone cold and lacked this just-out-of-the-oil taste that was so addictive. Vanessa had even tried getting her limo to stop yesterday and have Celeste run in to pick up fries, but the driver had refused, saying her father had forbidden such behavior because it was not deemed befitting of a royal princess.

  “Look, we’re going to have to get a few things clear,” Mark began after she’d made some headway on her cheeseburger.

  “I agree.” She gave him a haughty stare, not easy to do when she’d just wiped mustard from her chin and had to look at him from under the stupid bill of her cap. “For one thing, it’s very rude to order for me without consulting me.”

  “You were standing there as if you’d never been in a place like this before.”

  “Which I haven’t. That’s why I wanted to come here.”

  He frowned. “I thought you went to school in America.”

  “Only for one year, and I wasn’t allowed off-campus.”

  “Sounds like boot camp. Minus the weapons.”

  She had to smile. “The only weapons we had were the pancakes Mrs. Manly cooked up in the cafeteria every Sunday. They made great Frisbees.”

  “What was Prudence doing in a ritzy boarding school in the first place? Her dad’s a Marine.”

  “She was there on a partial scholarship, and her father sent her as a form of discipline.” She nibbled on another fry. “We met and became friends.”

  Tearing his gaze away from her lips, he spoke in a curt voice. “As I was saying, you can’t create a scene like you almost did by holding up the ordering line that way. It makes you stand out like a sore thumb.”

  Her smile disappeared. Being likened to a sore thumb did not amuse Vanessa. No one had ever dared to speak to her in such a manner. Even at school, she’d been treated with deference and respect, even when she was being disciplined for some escapade. And since then, she’d been a working princess, traveling the world on behalf of her country. She was not a sore thumb.

  Suddenly she wasn’t as hungry as she’d been. Putting her burger back down, she nibbled on a French fry.

  “Finish your food,” Mark said.

  “We definitely need to clear some things up,” Vanessa stated, straightening her shoulders and tilting her head back to bestow another regal stare upon him. The da
rn billed cap made it hard for her to see anything above chest level, but she didn’t dare remove it for fear of being recognized. All she’d need was for some paparazzi to snap her picture, and the jig would be up.

  “It is not your place to order me around. If I choose not to eat, then I won’t eat. If I choose to take time over selecting my lunch, I shall do so. That does not mean I am a sore thumb. If I make a few missteps, you may politely guide me. But you are merely giving me direction, not issuing an order. Besides, I find your orders to be extremely contradictory.”

  Now that she’d taken the edge off her hunger, her earlier irritation at his actions back at the hotel returned tenfold. “Earlier today you told me not to kiss you back, then a short time later you told me to kiss you as if I was ‘hot for you,’ I believe is the way you so elegantly put it. I would suggest that you make up your mind one way or the other.”

  “I only kissed you because Anton was looking our way.”

  She gritted her teeth. Could the man be any more insulting? He was as good as telling her that he’d kissed her under duress. How was that supposed to make her feel? Infuriated, that’s how it made her feel. And strangely bereft.

  “You’ve made it perfectly clear that you didn’t kiss me because you wanted to, there’s no need to repeat yourself on that matter. I only kissed you back out of curiosity the first time, and the second time because, as you said, Anton was watching us. But I suggest that there not be a third time where kissing is concerned. In Volzemburg we have an old saying ‘Third time watch out.’ Now if you are done eating, and it looks like you are, judging by the empty tray, then I suggest we move on. There are people waiting to sit, and I certainly wouldn’t want to hold them up and stand out like a sore thumb,” she noted tartly.

  Women! Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, Mark dumped the paper wrappers from their lunch into the trash. He’d never had trouble figuring them out before, but then this woman was a princess. He might not be quite as much of a ladies’ man as his younger brother, Joe, but he’d had more than his fair share of success with the female sex.

  And while it was true that Mark had told her not to kiss him and then had reversed that order a short time later, that didn’t mean that his strategy was faulty. He had to remind himself of the real goal of his mission.