Read Princess Thief: Stealing Your Heart Online
Authors: Jennifer Enander
Princess Thief: Stealing Your Heart
Princess Thief: Stealing His Heart
by Jennifer Enander
* * *
She
’ll be his royal
bride — or she’ll be his prisoner!
Juliette
Thierry is a pretty, sweet florist by day; but at night, she becomes The Robin
Hood Robber – a master jewel thief who takes from the extravagant aristocracy
and gives to the orphanages in her poor country.
When the
devilishly handsome Prince Guillermo catches her in the act, he gives her a
choice: a year in jail or a year in
… marriage?!
Follow
the twists and turns in this delightful story filled with suspense, surprises,
and romance!
Princess Thief: Stealing His Heart
Copyright
© 2013 Jennifer
Enander
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are
either products of the author
’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Except for use in any
review, no part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled,
reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and
retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or
mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the expressed written
consent of MGTIP Publishing LLC, 2360 Corporate Circle Ste 400, Henderson NV,
89074-7722, USA.
Toshokan Press is a
wholly-owned subsidiary of MGTIP Publishing LLC.
For more information
on this book or the author, contact the publisher at:
MGTIP Publishing LLC
2360 Corporate Circle
Ste 400
Henderson NV,
89074-7722
USA
“Excuse
me, sir? Sir?”
Guillermo
woke from a deep slumber to find someone shaking his shoulder.
“Sir,
are you Prince Guillermo of San Morrando?”
Guillermo
slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on his cot in a tent deep in the bush of
North Africa. His stethoscope lay on the makeshift nightstand next to the
cot. Next to his stethoscope, a mirror reflected his image back at him:
tousled jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, two days of unshaven stubble
covering his handsome suntanned face.
The
person with his hand on his shoulder was a young man of no more than 19 years
old; red-faced, covered in sweat, looking very nervous, dressed in the uniform
of the San Morrando Royal Guards.
Guillermo
’s eyes suddenly
widened as he realized what the guardsman just said. “Please, don’t use that
name here!” he whispered emphatically. “You are to address me as Dr.
Valdivia. For my safety, as well as yours.”
The
young guardsman slumped to the ground.
“So it is you,” he breathed. “Thank God
we’ve finally found you.”
Guillermo
’s professional
instincts took over. He rose from his cot, lifted the lid on the water barrel,
filled the wooden ladle, and handed it to the guardsman. The thirsty guardsman
nodded to him gratefully and drank it down.
Guillermo
peered through the opening of his olive green canvas tent. There was the
barest glimmer of light outside. He guessed it would be just before dawn, 6:00
AM. The air was still cool and smelled of fresh dew.
“Sir,”
the guardsman handed the ladle back to Guillermo, “there’s been an accident.
I’m to bring you back to San Morrando immediately.”
Guillermo
quickly filled the ladle with more water, then handed it back to the
guardsman. The man gulped it down.
“Take your time, son. Tell me what
happened.”
“Sir,”
the guardsman said, “the king is dead.”
“The
king?”
“Yes,
sir. And his son, too.”
“Oh,
no,” Guillermo whispered. Then, as he realized the full weight of the young
guardsman’s words, he gasped, “Oh, my God, no!”
I
’m going to be
the king?!
“We
have to leave right away, your highness,” the guardsman rose. “Your country
needs you.”
Six
hours later, Guillermo was safely back in his home country of San Morrando,
situated on the coast of the Mediterranean between France and Spain. As his
limousine wound slowly up the Pyrenees Mountains towards the capital city of
Morrando la Vella, Guillermo gazed out the window and marveled at the beauty of
his country. Beaches to the east, snow capped mountains to the west, and in
between a lush, fertile valley.
After
what seemed like an eternity to him, the Palais d
’Or finally came into view in the
distance. Located on the banks of the icy cold Rivière Bleu and surrounded by
luxurious grounds full of trees and acres of green grass, the Palais d’Or was a
beautiful castle: two stories tall, with four turrets, one on each corner.
Built in 1858, Palais d’Or was a modern replica of the original castle built by
the French centuries earlier, in 1252. The ruins of the original castle could
still be found a hundred yards east of the new palace; little more than a few
waist-high walls now. Further east of the old castle ruins sat the thoroughly
modern royal stables complete with an oval practice track.
The
limousine slowed briefly as it approached the front gate; a royal guardsman
waved the car through and saluted as it passed. Despite everything that had
happened, despite the deep misgivings for what was to come, in his heart
Guillermo felt good to be home.
Armand
Trouard, the king
’s
personal valet, was waiting by the entrance of the castle. As the limousine
came to a stop, Armand smartly stepped forward and opened the door. “Prince
Guillermo, sir, it is good to see you.”
“Armand,”
Guillermo grasped the man by the shoulders and smiled briefly, then grew
serious. “Can it be possible?”
“I’m
afraid so, sir,” Armand replied. “Shall we go inside?”
As
Guillermo and Armand walked into the castle, two of the maids began weeping;
one of the maids cried out in anguish,
“Prince Guillermo!” Guillermo gave a
reassuring smile to the two women, then followed Armand into the King’s Study.
Guillermo
slumped into the first chair he saw, exhausted. He looked up at Armand.
“What happened?”
“A
hunting accident, sir,” the royal valet responded. “A bear attacked Prince
Javier. The king rushed to his defense and managed to kill the bear with a
knife, but he was mortally wounded and died at the site. The prince succumbed
to his injuries two days later.”
“Two
days? Just how long has it been?”
“We’ve
been looking for you for 10 days now, sir.”
Guillermo
whistled softly.
“I
was so deep in the jungle, I honestly had no idea.”
“The
funeral was yesterday. Quite a few heads of state attended. It was very
dignified. However, the aristocracy is in a bit of a panic, as you might
imagine.”
“I’ll
bet. We should issue a statement that I have returned.”
“I
shall attend to it. Might I suggest a brief appearance on tonight’s news?”
“Later,
please, Armand. Let me get my bearings.” Guillermo leaned back in the plush
leather office chair and sighed. “Do you know how long it takes to gain a
foothold in North Africa?”
“I
would imagine quite a long time, sir,” Armand replied with a sympathetic smile.
“Do
you know how long I had to work to become a pediatrician?”
“If
I recall correctly, it was seven years, was it not?”
“Seven
long years.” Guillermo pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged slowly.
“You
are only 31, sir. And after a year, you can rejoin the humanitarian effort in
Africa.”
Guillermo
opened his eyes and leaned forward in his chair.
“So, you’ve
realized it, too?”
Armand
nodded.
“If
your sister, Princess Sofia, were 21…”
Guillermo
continued the thought,
“I
could simply abdicate to her immediately after my coronation. But since she’s
only just turned 20…”
“You
will have to assume the throne for at least a year. There is no other way,”
Armand stated.
Guillermo
exhaled deeply.
“Well,
what are we going to do about that other little requirement?”
“Surely
there’s someone, sir?”
“It’s
a little hard to meet anyone in the jungles of North Africa.”
“I
see.” Armand looked lost in thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“What
is it, Armand? Do you have an idea? Please, even if it seems ridiculous.
Otherwise, I’ll have less than three weeks to find a bride!”
“Well,
it occurs to me that… Well, what I mean to say is, what if the marriage was
also for only one year?”
“A
royal marriage for a year? That would be absolutely ideal! But is there a
woman who would agree to such a thing?”
“Well,
there is
one
possibility,
but it
’s
something of a long shot…”
Juliette
Thierry pushed her right hand through her long black wavy hair as she walked to
the front corner of the little flower shop.
“Can I help you?”
The
customer, in his forties, was holding his young daughter
’s hand. He
turned, then blushed bright red, seeing the 25 year old stunning beauty with a
radiant smile standing next to him, her simple yellow dress showing off her
ballerina-like figure. “I- uh-”
“Daddy,
who’s the pretty lady?” the man’s young blond daughter looked up and asked.
Juliette
squatted down to the child
’s level and smiled. “Hi. I’m Juliette.”
The
little girl smiled shyly and looked at the floor.
“Go ahead,
sweetie,” her father gently urged her. “Introduce yourself like we practiced.”
“I’m
Tiffany. Pleased to meet you,” the little girl managed.
“Hi,
Tiffany. Do you like flowers?”
Tiffany
nodded.
“Well,
how about a flower for your pocket? It’s on the house.” Juliette reached into
the pot of chrysanthemums in front of her and expertly snapped off the stem,
leaving just enough to fit into the front pocket of the little girl’s dress.
“What
do we say?” the father asked.
“Thank
you,” Tiffany said sweetly.
“Oh,
you’re adorable!” Juliette smiled. She stood up and asked the father, “So,
have you decided?”
“Well,
it’s for my wife. I, well, you see, that is, I sort of forgot our wedding
anniversary.”
“Ohhhh,”
Juliette said. “I think you’re going to need some roses.”
“Roses?”
he asked.
“Yes.
Red
roses, in
fact. Shall I get you a dozen? Don
’t worry, they’re on sale. Oh, and
you’d better get your wife some chocolates, too. If you go 3 shops down on
your left, you’ll find the candy store.”
“Candy!”
Tiffany yelled happily. The two adults laughed.
Juliette
wrapped up the roses and added some miniature white baby
’s breath for
emphasis. After completing the transaction, she slowly walked the couple to
the front door.
Suddenly,
a man rushed into the shop from the back; handsome, mid-fifties, with kind
eyes, his beard and hair almost half-brown, half-gray.
“Juliette! I
must speak with you!”
Juliette
didn
’t
respond. Instead, she smiled at her customers and said, “Have a nice day. I
hope your wife likes the flowers.” She then winked at the little girl and gave
her a wave. The girl smiled and said, “Bye,” in a cute, singsong tone.
Once
her customers had reached the sunny sidewalk outside, Juliette locked the door
behind them, then flipped the sign hanging in the window to read
“Closed.”
Finally,
she turned to face the man who had rushed in from the back of the store.
“Uncle
François,” she smiled warmly, “it’s so good to see you. How was your trip to
Spain?”
“It
was fine. We sold out all 5 shows — but never mind that! Is it true? Are
you the florist for the Royal Ball?” François demanded.
Juliette
smile was coy.
“Yes.”
“And
only that? Only a florist?”
“Well…”
“Ah!
I knew it!” François threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “Ma chère, you
cannot go through with this.”
“Calm
down, uncle, please, let me explain.”
“No.
I will not hear of it.” He shook his head. “It is too dangerous.”
“Uncle,
will you please listen to me?” Juliette trained her big brown eyes on her
uncle. He melted — just like she knew he would.
“All
right, all right,” he sighed. “Show me.”
“Good!”
Juliette beamed at him, then practically skipped across the shop to her uncle,
giddy as a schoolgirl. She hugged him tight. “You won’t believe how lucky
this is. The floor plan layout is perfect, the security is practically
non-existent, and the necklace is flawless.”
He
wrapped his arms around Juliette and gave her a big bear hug.
“You know, I lie
awake some nights and ask myself, ‘how did my little girl become an
international jewel thief?’”
Juliette
smiled up at her uncle.
“Just
lucky, I guess.”