Princess In Denim (8 page)

* * *

Chloe followed Emma for what seemed like thirty minutes down halls, up stairs, along corridors, before Emma finally stopped, opened a wooden door recessed in a deep archway and stood back to let Chloe enter first.

Instead, Chloe balanced herself with one hand on the plaster wall and removed her heels with the other. "I need a foot massage. And a map."

Emma grinned. "It
is
rather large by American standards."

Chloe snickered. "UCSB could hold classes in here. How many rooms are there?''

"One hundred thirty."

And I thought I'd be able to find my way out in the morning?

"More or less."

"You've lost some rooms?" she teased.

"It depends on which ones you want to count. Is the dungeon considered one room, or three?"

"I see."

Emma extended her arm to indicate that Chloe should enter first. "This is your suite, Your Highness."

When Chloe's mouth dropped open in shock, she knew she'd done the right thing in turning down William's offer. She really had to acclimate herself to all this wealth before she gave herself away. "This is my bedroom?"

"This is your sitting room. You may dine here if you like. Do needlework—" Emma looked at Chloe, whom she'd known for years, and amended, "Yes, well, watch television, perhaps."

Chloe listened to her, of course, but walked around the suite, touching Roman busts and vases that should have been in a museum. On second thought she quit touching. "This stuff is priceless."

Emma smiled indulgently. "His Majesty thinks your American speech is, too, Your Highness. Perhaps you should not try so hard to speak...properly, after all."

Chloe didn't even pretend to be insulted. "Deal!"

Emma scratched her head. "Yes, that's precisely what I mean."

"But won't that make people suspicious?"

"There is nothing to be suspicious of, Your Highness, so you might as well be genuine. You've been gone so many years, I think they expect to see something exotic and foreign come home. I expect my own speech has undergone some changes." She said it as though she wasn't proud of it.

Chloe pointed at a set of gilt-bordered, cream-colored double doors. "What's in there?"

"This is all your suite. Have at it."

It was Chloe's turn to grin indulgently at Emma. "Yeah, I'd say you'd picked up a little slang, too."

She pushed open the doors and found a bed canopied and draped with creamy lace, enough antique furniture to put a warehouse in business, and a hardwood floor mostly covered with plush, handwoven rugs. Off that room was a bathroom with a sunken tub surrounded by marble pillars and a small forest.

"I'm almost afraid to see the closet." It was probably as large as her old apartment.

"Your maid will get you whatever you want or need."

"Aw, c'mon, Emma, don't spoil the fun."

"Very well. Just around this corner."

It was large, but not
that
large. More like Chloe's old living room. A maid in her early twenties, wearing a gray dress and white apron, blushed, dipped into a quick curtsy, then continued hanging up Moira's clothes—the ones that would fit Chloe and new ones that Emma had picked out in the past week just for Chloe. Rack upon rack of new shoes in every imaginable color filled one wall.

"This is Angela, Your Highness. She will be your personal maid."

Chloe smiled warmly, eager to get off to a good start with people she'd see every day. "Hello, Angela."

"Your Highness." Angela gestured toward the red high-heeled shoes dangling from Chloe's hand and asked in halting English, "You would like for me to take the shoes?"

Chloe felt ridiculous handing someone else her shoes to put away, but she did it. She was a princess and was expected to act as such. "Angela, when you come across them, could you bring me my DKNY jeans and UCSB sweatshirt?"

She'd just given her first order to her maid.
Her maid!
If that wasn't a hoot, nothing was.

Angela's brows puckered. "DK...Your Highness?"

"DKNY."

Still puckered.

"Angela can't read, Your Highness," Emma said very matter-of-factly.

Chloe's glance darted over to Emma and back to Angela. "Oh."

"You thought I could read?" Angela asked in surprise.

"Well..."

Chloe left just enough space for Emma to jump in.

"The educational system hasn't changed much since you left, Your Highness," Emma interjected. "Ennsway has very few readers. Just look for the new jeans and a navy sweatshirt, Angela. Now, if Your Highness would like to follow me..."

Chloe took the hint, slipped into a pair of sneakers and followed Emma on a tour of the castle. She saw the cozy nursery where Moira had begun her life. The gymnasium-size playroom she'd shared with her brother, Louis, with shelves that still overflowed with dolls, storybooks, and toys of all sizes and shapes. Her mother's chambers, which Moira had visited frequently until she was ten and her mother had died. The general direction of Louis's room, though there was no need to venture there. The dining room with murals, inset panels, and a highly polished trestle table long enough to feed an army. The general location of the kitchen, another place Emma assured Chloe she wouldn't have need to visit.

"What if I get hungry in the middle of the night?" Chloe asked as they walked side by side along another stone passageway.

"Then you ring your maid."

"What if all I want is a pop-up?"

"There are no pop-ups in the castle."

"No pop-ups? That does it. Send someone to the store immediately," she teased.

"Impossible."

"But you said I'm a princess and can do whatever I want."

"That is absolutely correct, but there are no pop-ups in Ennsway."

Chloe couldn't imagine such a thing. "Why not?"

"We import very little."

"Can that be changed?"

"Of course."

"Good," she said cheerfully. "Import some. Strawberry is my favorite. Now what?"

"I thought you might enjoy this room." Emma stepped aside and let Chloe enter the library. "I know how you love to study a variety of subjects. Many of these volumes are in English."

Books lined the dark wood shelves from floor to ceiling. To the right, a carved wood balustrade followed stairs up to a second story and along the edge of the loft. Each wall had a ladder that slid along brass guides so that every book was accessible by anyone interested. Architecture, art, fairy tales, history...to zoology.

"I thought people here couldn't read."

"They can't. Members of the royal family are well educated, however."

"Sounds positively archaic."

"Welcome home, Your Highness. Now, if you'd like to return to your suite, your masseuse should be ready."

"My masseuse? Really?"

"Yes, Your Highness. You indicated you would like a foot massage, I believe?"

She hadn't meant it
literally.
She was used to making wishes that were never granted. If they were all going to start coming true now, she wondered what she should wish about William.

Ten o'clock came way too early the next morning for Chloe. Normally up with the sun and in bed at a reasonable hour each evening, she was now hours off schedule thanks to jet lag. To her, it felt like eleven at night.

She could turn this to her advantage. If she made a mistake, she'd blame it on being half-asleep.

It wasn't only the time change that had kept her awake last night, though. It was also knowing she'd see William this morning. It was hoping he'd kiss her again. It was debating whether she could turn her head at just the right moment, capture his lips and get away with it.

As those thoughts raced through her mind, a servant moved silently in her sitting room. He set the small table with delicate china, highly polished silver, sparkling crystal, and fresh flowers. When he was finished, every piece that bore a monogram was turned in exactly the same direction. Her napkin was folded at a precise angle to the place setting. He stepped back, chewed his lip as he scrutinized the table for any imperfections, then noticed Chloe and bowed.

He nearly tripped over his feet to hold her chair before she could get settled in by herself, then proceeded to uncover steaming dishes. In stilted English, he offered her a selection of pastries, eggs cooked three different ways, and several meats, though she couldn't have said for sure just what kind.

And then he disappeared and left Chloe alone to enjoy her breakfast. It was just as well. She really only wanted her customary pop-ups, but she was afraid she'd hurt someone's feelings if she didn't at least sample a little of everything.

She was eager to see William again. She rushed through her taste test—difficult to do when it was all delicious—then summoned Emma, whom she needed for directions to the stables.

Chloe, in the jeans she preferred, and Emma, in a dress suitable for following Her Highness all day, walked outside together. Chloe had always thought Rancho Santa Ynez to be top-notch. If so, then Castle Ennsway horses must be in heaven. The long brick building had private paddocks for each stall on the far side and, on the near, half doors beneath a wide roof so that each horse could hang its head out and seek attention from any one of the abundance of grooms hired to tend them.

She spotted William right away and remembered the fantasies she'd enjoyed.

He immediately left the half-dozen men with whom he'd been conversing and strode over to her. "Your Highness." If his smile was any indication, he was as happy to see her as she was him.

"Your Majesty." She burned to toss formality aside and test his name on her lips, but couldn't do so in front of everyone. They'd be off together soon now. Alone.

"Good morning." William stepped closer and reached for her.

She leaned into his grasp, waited breathlessly for his kisses and decided formality had its good points. Except his touch was too brief today, doubtless because of their audience.

"I have a present for you," he said proudly. At a snap of his fingers, a flashy gray Andalusian mount was led forward, head high, ears forward, large brown eyes curious. "I know she looks like a handful, but I assure you, she is as sweet as candy. Not that you would be unable to handle her, of course."

Why, he's babbling. As nervous as any man with an expensive gift for a woman he barely knows.

"She's beautiful, Your Majesty."

Too expensive, unfortunately.

Now, how did one turn down a gift from a king? Especially one she wanted. The horse, not the king.

Well, him, too.

"I can't believe you would do this for me." She was thinking on her feet and not very well on so little sleep. "I mean—"

His smile wavered. His brows puckered until he had a little crease between them.

"It's too generous."

Emma moved into Chloe's line of vision, patting her hair as if they'd just come through a windstorm. Did that mean "Yes" as in "It's okay to accept it," or "Yes" as in "It's good to reject it"? Emma's horrified expression provided the answer.

"Well, I just don't know what to say," Chloe finished lamely, and then added a brilliant smile.

William's frown quickly changed back to his lopsided grin. "I am sorry. My English is not as good as I thought, apparently. Do you like her?"

Chloe took the reins from the groom's hand and patted the mare's neck. "Yes. In fact, I think I may be in love."

"With the mare? I would have to be American to understand?"

"No, you'd have to be female." She wanted to erase any confusion he might have. "She's beautiful. Thank you, Your Majesty. I'm really..."

She laughed at the sheer joy of trying to find the right words, since she couldn't just throw caution to the wind and her arms around his neck.

"...overwhelmed."

"Shall we try her out, then?"

"Yes."

A groomsman stepped forward to give Chloe a leg up, something she wouldn't have minded since the mare was tacked with an English saddle. But William brushed the man aside, bent at the waist and held his hands out, waiting for Chloe to flex her knee so that he could lace his fingers beneath it and boost her up.

She did so with pleasure, and darned near tumbled over the mare's back.

William's hand landed on her thigh to steady her, but did nothing of the kind. "Your Highness?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"You are sure?"

It was a good thing she'd never met an American man with so much gentlemanly concern, or she might have been married by now and unable to take advantage of this opportunity. She shuddered at the thought."

"You would like a different mount, perhaps?"

"No way."

He lingered near her leg.

"Better mount up, Your Majesty, or you'll get left behind."

Relief washed over his face then, and he quickly seated himself on his own jet-black mount.

Chloe and Moira had had many friendly bets over the years, and usually they wagered that the loser had to switch to English or Western, whichever the case may be. Moira had run a few hundred barrels—she refused to try any trick riding regardless of the wager, and Chloe had learned to jump without getting left behind. So she wasn't entirely at a loss with a slippery saddle, no horn, and plow reining. Just a little out of practice.

"Where are we going this morning?" she asked, impatient to be alone with him.

William looked as eager as she felt. "I thought you might like to ride to the river."

"Sounds wonderful. Lead the way."

"Mount up," William said to a half-dozen men.

Chloe felt her breezy mood slip a notch. 'They're coming with us?"

"Of course, Your Highness. You did not ride with an escort in the United States?"

That was an understatement. A couple of cowboys here and there in Texas, and they hadn't been escorts so much as ardent pursuers. "No."

William glared at Emma. "That should never have been allowed."

Chloe felt bad for putting Emma in such a position. "I insisted, Your Majesty. It was perfectly safe there, and I needed the time alone."