Betrothed to the Prince : Catching the Clown

by Raye Morgan

• ISBN13: 9780373196678
• ISBN10: 0373196679
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2003-06-01
• Publisher: Silhouette

Excerpts

"Hello. What have we here?"

Princess Katianna Mirishevsky Roseanova-Krimorova, usually known as Tianna Rose, stood looking down at the man sprawled on the cushioned gazebo bench with a reluctant sense of interest. It was pretty obvious he was sleeping off the effects of a night on the town. She couldn't imagine how the staff who administered to this royal residence could let such things go on.

"Shoddy maintenance," her mother would have said. This certainly wouldn't have been tolerated at her parents' home.

But this casual attitude seemed to be common here on the Arizona estate of the Roseanova family - the home of the exiled Royal House of the Rose. She'd arrived at the address, dismissed her cab and gone to the entry gatehouse, only to find the gate standing wide open and no one in attendance. The estate where she'd grown up was much more modest and low-key than this one, and yet such lax security was unheard of there. And besides that, she'd assumed there would be a shuttle service to take her to the main house, and now it looked like she was going to have to make the uphill climb on her own.

Sighing, she started up the long driveway, only to notice the cute little gazebo overlooking a small man-made lake. She could see someone was inside so she made the detour in hopes of finding help. But it seemed she was destined to be out of luck again. The man was out like a light.

Still, he was so good-looking, even in this state, that she lingered, looking him over for a moment. He looked quite comfortable lying on a sort of window seat setup equipped with plush cushions. His dark blond hair was tousled and a little too long, but his white shirt, though partially unbuttoned, was impeccable, his leather jacket expensive-looking and his slacks still had a beautiful crease. His features were strong and even, his skin smooth and tan. The slight stubble on his chin only enhanced the effect of very appealing masculinity. All in all, he was gorgeous. They just didn't hire them like this where she came from - more the pity.

She thought about giving him a quick shake and waking him. But no. That wouldn't be much use. She might as well get back on the path and make her way to the main house. Pulling her wine-colored suede jacket a little closer in the cool fall morning air, she gave one last glance at the muscular exposure of his impressive chest and turned to go. To her horror, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, trapping her.

"Hey, Little Red Riding Hood," he said in a voice low as a scratchy old cello. "Didn't anyone tell you it isn't safe to wander around alone in these woods?"

"Let me go!" she ordered once she found his grasp was like steel.

"Oh." His eyes were barely slit open. "Sorry. I thought you were part of my dream." But he still held her.

She tugged on his hold, definitely annoyed by now.

"Listen," she began, but he wasn't listening at all.

"You're sexy enough to be part of my dream," he was musing whimsically. "And you'll definitely be a part of my next dream."

"Make that your nightmare," she snapped, reaching to grab his thumb and bend it backward, hard, turning into it to make a clean breakaway.

"Hey!" he said, and swore as he dropped her wrist and began to struggle to sit up. "What the -?"

But she didn't stick around to chat. Head high, she marched toward the driveway without a backward glance, silently thanking her personal defense trainer as she went. So much for those who thought princesses were sitting ducks for any passing tormentor. It was actually rather satisfying to have run across a chance to use her training.

The entire incident was timely. She'd needed a little boost to her self-esteem to help her through the chore she'd set for herself here. She'd come to break her engagement to Garth Franz Josef Mikeavich Romano Roseanova, Prince of Nabotavia. She was going to have to be tough to make him understand that she was not going to marry him, no matter how many official proclamations of their betrothal he could pull out of the country's archives.

Not in a million years.

The inner area of the estate was set off by a long arbor covered with winding sprays of climbing red roses, and she paused at the lovely gateway to gaze in at the spires and towers and balconies decorating the huge palatial mansion ahead, giving a little cough of amusement.

"Just like an East Nabotavian prince to build himself a little Rhineland castle in the middle of Arizona," she thought to herself.

She was a West Nabotavian herself, one of a contingent of refugees who had fled the tiny Central European country twenty years before during a deadly revolution. Most had landed in the United States, living relatively good lives, working and waiting for their chance to rid their country of its oppressors. Now a miracle had happened and the rebels had been thrown off. Nabotavia wanted its monarchy back, and young people such as Tianna were preparing to return to a land they only knew in legends. But it was their home, their destiny. Anyway, it was supposed to be.

Tianna was having trouble reconciling her own plans with this new imperative. She didn't know how Prince Garth felt about it, but she had no intention of going back. And that was one reason she meant to break their engagement off right away.

A scattering of raindrops made a pattern on the walkway and she looked up at the dark clouds gathering above her in the huge Arizona sky. Somewhere not too far off, thunder crackled. Good thing she wasn't too far from the house.

A shout drew her attention. Some sort of a hullabaloo seemed to be going on in another area of the estate. She could hear some yelling, a man's voice, then a woman's higher shriek. Craning her neck, she spotted the location of the activity. Two large cows were munching contentedly in the vegetable garden while a number of people were dancing around them, yelling and waving hats and brooms and other implements of distraction. That solved the mystery of where the security guards must be.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Betrothed To The Prince by Raye Morgan Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.