The Prince's Mistress

  THE PRINCES MISTRESS

  DAY LECLAIRE

  To Jada Andre, who cant be thanked often enough.

  Youve been an unbelievable help.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Coming Next Month

  One

  Mt. Roche, Principality of Verdon, Verdonia

  P rince Lander Montgomery gripped the phone and spoke in a low, forceful voice. You owe me, Arnaud. Youve been in my debt for years. Its time for you to pay up, and I have the perfect way you can do it.

  I dont owe you a damn thing, Joc snapped. Even from half a world away his voice was as clear as though he stood in the same room. You and your cronies made my life hell at Harvard. Youre lucky I havent tried to even the score. But now that youve taken the time and trouble to remind me of those good ol days, I may reconsider.

  Lander glared in disbelief. Payback? After all this time?

  Why not? When you have as much money as I do, payback can be a real bitch. A fact youll soon discover firsthand, Your Highness.

  You have a convenient memory. Id almost think youd forgotten about graduation night. Lander paused. Not to mention the promise you made.

  Joc snarled a curse. I was out of my mind when I made that promise.

  No doubt. But still, you made it. Or doesnt the infamous Joc Arnaud honor his promises? Given your background, I thought honor was everything.

  There was a moment of dead silence and Lander wondered if hed pushed too hard. Then, What do you want, Montgomery?

  Lander fought to disguise his relief. Years of practice maintaining an impassive facade came to his rescue and was reflected in the calmness of his voice. I want to discuss a business proposition. Im throwing a charity ball this Saturday. I understand youll be in the vicinity.

  If you consider Paris in the vicinity.

  Its a hell of a lot closer than Dallas. Where should I send the invitation?

  Corporate headquarters. And make it two. Theres someone Id like to invite to your little shindig.

  Ill courier them to you today.

  You never did say A hint of curiosity climbed into Jocs voice. What do you want from me?

  Lander smiled in satisfaction. When it came to Arnaud, curiosity was a good thing. A very good thing. Not much. I just want you to save Verdonia.

  She was late. Unforgivably late.

  Juliana Rose mentally willed the cab to hurry, to cut through the heavy traffic overflowing the streets of Verdonias capital city of Mt. Roche and reach her destination while she could still enjoy what remained of the evenings festivities. Even if she made it to the palace within the next five minuteshighly unlikelyshe didnt doubt for a single moment that shed be the last guest to arrive.

  Peering through the window, she struggled to see how much farther they had to go. In the distance the palace of Mt. Roche topped a nearby hill. It gleamed silvery gold beneath an early June moon, its graceful turrets and glittering stonework reinforcing its fairy-tale appearance. A hunger built deep inside, a hunger to believe in fairy tales and happily-ever-after endings, even though shed learned long ago that such things were impossibleat least for her.

  This was her very first ball, a reward for all her charitable work for Arnauds Angels. The fact that the fates were busily conspiring to prevent her from enjoying the fruits of her labor simply underscored her suspicion that some things were never meant to be. Besides, wasnt it considered a major no-no to arrive after the royal family? Would they even let her in? Or would she be turned from the door before she had the chance to peek inside? Well, shed find out whether theyd let her in soon enough. And if they didntShe shrugged philosophically. She had a briefcase full of work back at her apartment and a dozen potential candidates who would benefit from Angels benevolence.

  As the cab turned onto the winding approach to the palace, Juliana struggled not to fuss with her hair or tug at the scrap of beaded silk that bared more of her breasts than she found comfortable. Instead she folded her hands in her lap and cleared her mind by silently working her way through a complex mathematical equation. Shed stumbled across the trick as a child, starting with simple multiplication tables to calm herself whenever shed been upset. Since then, shed refined the technique, increasing the level of difficulty until it took all her focus and concentration to work her way through the problems. To her relief, the exercise worked, easing her tension and allowing her to regain her poise.

  At long last the cab pulled through the palace gates and cruised slowly around the sweeping circle to an entryway as elegant as it was imposing. Lions Den, the driver announced in near perfect English. But then, most Verdonians were fluent, since it was their second language. Even the children she worked with spoke English as well as she spoke Verdonian.

  Why do you call it the Lions Den? Curiosity compelled her to ask.

  He shrugged. Prince Lander is the Lion of Mt. Roche.

  So you call the palace the Lions Den?

  He acknowledged her amusement with an answering grin. Wellperhaps not to His Highnesss face.

  No, I imagine not.

  With a quick word of thanks, she added a generous tip to the fare and exited the cab. She could practically hear the clock ticking a frantic warning that time was passing, but she refused to rush, choosing instead to soak in the beauty of her surroundings. Normally she wouldnt have dared attend an affair like this. But she was in Verdonia, a small European country that rarely gained media attention, and farshe hopedfrom the intrusive focus of the paparazzi. No one knew her real name here, that she was an Arnaud. Instead, shed been using her first and middle name. She was just Juliana Rose, charity worker, invited to the ball as a generous afterthought.

  Tonight she had an opportunity shed never experienced before. Tonight, shed be able to cut loose from her conservative image and allow a tiny piece of her natural personality to take over. To shine as hot and brightly as she dared without worrying about who was watching or taking note of every word she spoke, or dress she wore, or man who danced with her.

  Tonight she could be herself and damn the consequences.

  Footmen lined the great hall, unobtrusively directing her along the corridor. As she suspected, she was the only guest not yet in the ballroom. The spiked heels of her sandals fired off a rapid tattoo against the endless expanse of marble flooring. With every step she felt more and more like Cinderella, though if she were fortunate her Elie Saab gown wouldnt dissolve into rags on the stroke of midnight any more than the cab she arrived in would revert to a pumpkin with a mouse for a driver.

  Passing between huge Doric columns she found herself on a large curved landing overlooking the gathering. A majordomo guarded the wide staircase that led downward into the mass of glittering partygoers. She paused to absorb it all, to savor every single aspect of this moment out of time. Flowers of endless variety and hue overflowed urns and vases, filling the room with a lush, heady scent. Elegant French doors were thrown wide, allowing a soft warm breeze laden with the advent of summer to filter through the throng, and causing the candles that lit the room to flicker and dance. Eventually her attention drifted to the staircase leading downward. And thats when she saw him, positioned at the foot of the steps as though hed been waiting for her.

  He was tall. Even standing a full story above him she could tell his height was impressive. He wore his black tux with casual ease, his chest and shoulders a virtual wall of immovable masculinity. Thick, wavy hair swept back from his face, streaks of sun-bleached blond competing for
supremacy over the rich nut brown.

  She could see his chiseled features were striking, with high arcing cheekbones and a strong, square jaw that warned of a stubborn nature. But it was his mouth that fascinated her the most. It sat at odds with the hard, forbidding lines of his face and jaw. That mouth betrayed him, the lips full and sensuous and perfectly designed to give a woman pleasure. There was a volcano of passion brewing beneath that mountain of calm control, passion requiring only a single spark to ignite an explosion. The knowledge stirred a secret smile, one that faded the instant she realized he was watching her.

  While shed been studying him, curious and unguarded and exposed, hed been busy returning the favor. Their gazes locked and held for an endless moment. Heat pooled low in her belly, lapping outward in ever-increasing demand. Never in all her twenty-five years had she experienced anything quite like it. Shed heard of women whod been struck by that sort of sexual lightning bolt, had even scoffed at the possibility, but shed never believed it possible.

  Until now.

  Now, she was faced with an urgent demand she could no more restrain than deny. She knew this man. Oh, theyd never met. But somehow she recognized him. Connected with him on some primal, instinctive level. For instance, she knew with every fiber of her being that he was a strong man. Powerful. A leader. And she knew that hed taken one look at her and decided he would have her. He wanted her, wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her off to his own private lair. To lock her away and possess her body, heart and soul until hed had his fill of her.

  The knowledge almost had her stumbling backward. Pride kept her locked in place. He wasnt the first of his kind shed had to sort out. Shed spent her entire life dealing with strong, powerful men. They were nothing but trouble. They demanded full control and considered everyone and everything within their world a challenge to either conquer, absorb or destroy.

  She also knew that if she were smart shed turn around and flee the palace. The safest recourse open to her was to hail a cab and return to her apartment where she could hide herself in precious anonymity. There was only one problem.

  She wanted him, too.

  Flight or confrontation? Rationality or insanity? She hesitated for a telling second before lifting her chin. To hell with it. Shed never before thrown discretion to the winds. Tonight would be her one chance and she intended to seize it with both hands. Gathering up her silk chiffon skirting, Juliana started down the steps and toward whatever fate the gods decreed.

  Prince Lander Montgomery stood at the bottom of the staircase leading to the ballroom and stared at the vision standing, still as a statue, in the shadows on the landing above. She was absolutely magnificentstatuesque, with the sort of figure capable of making grown men weep. Her skin rivaled the color and beauty of the white lilies that dotted the floral displays, and set off hair that at first appeared brunette. But then she stepped into the light, and flames erupted from the darkness, smoldering like hot ruby coals. It reminded him of the fire that hid in the richest of Verdonias world-renowned amethysts, the spark of hidden red that would heat the blue and purple to a blistering inferno and had made the unusual gems some of the most coveted in Europe.

  She wore an elegant silver gown, the low-cut corsetted bodice and capped sleeves forming a triangle that framed her neck, shoulders and breasts. Her gaze drifted across the ballroom and a smile broke free, chasing the aloof expression from her face and completely altering her appearance. In the space of a heartbeat she went from cool and regal to warm and vibrant. And then she glanced in his direction.

  Heaven help him, it was one of the most intimate looks hed ever receivedopen and direct, and as arousing as a lovers caress. A matching hunger consumed him, a ravenous need. One look and he knew he had to have her. It didnt matter why. It didnt matter how. Hed never felt such urgency before, had never felt on the bitter edge of control. Not over a woman. Hed always been the one in charge, the one to set the terms. It was his right and one hed taken full advantage of.

  Until now.

  She handed her invitation to the majordomo and then swept down the staircase toward him, crystal beads glittering with every movement. Lander found himself blessing whichever designer god had created her gown, mesmerized by the way the silver material clung to her shapely hips before flaring outward. Layer after layer of tissue-thin skirting lifted and fluttered to show off a spectacular pair of legs.

  It was like a scene straight out of Cinderella. Except this prince had no intention of falling madly in love. In lust, perhaps. Hell, definitely. But love belonged right where Cinderella found itin a fairy tale.

  Reaching the final step, she hesitated. She continued to stare straight at him, her eyes the color of gold-flecked honey. He read barely suppressed excitement there combined with an inner fire that burned so fiercely he could feel the scorching heat from where he stood. It drew him, stirring an uncontrollable desire. It also roused the predator in him. He wanted to have her focus that iridescent gaze on him and only him, to discover the cause of her suppressed excitement. Free it. Just as he wanted to free her inner fire and bask in its searing intensity.

  A ripple lapped outward among the nearby guests, warning of gathering interest. Verdonia was a small country, the people attending tonights charity gala familiar with one another. This was the first ball since his fathers death, a traditional affair Lander had known his father would have wanted them to hold, despite being in mourning. And into the darkness this exotic stranger had appeared, cutting through their grief with fiery brilliance. It wouldnt be long before one of the unattached malesor even a few of the attached onesapproached her.

  Before that could happen, Lander closed the distance between them. She was tall. In her four-inch heels she easily hit six feet. Welcome, he said simply. Ive been waiting for you.

  Wariness clouded her eyes and she retreated a pace. Do you know me?

  Odd question. Did she think they could have met in the past and not remember each other? Not a chance. No, I dont know you. But I hope to change that.

  Her relief was palpable, a fact he found intriguing. My mistake, she murmured. Her husky accent held the unmistakable sultriness of the American south and tugged at something visceral deep inside him. I thought perhaps wed met and Id somehow forgotten.

  No. It was my rusty attempt at a pickup line. Landers mouth twisted. It would appear Im seriously out of practice.

  For some reason his admission succeeded where the line hadnt. In that case, you can practice on me. I promise Ill go easy on you. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. I wasnt certain theyd let me in if the royals had already arrived. I dont suppose you know the proper protocol? Is there someone I should speak to? Apologize to?

  As a pickup line it worked far better than his had. Prince Lander, for instance? he suggested with a teasing smile.

  To his surprise, alarm flared. Definitely not him. Im just here for the party, not to hobnob with any luminaries. In fact, the first one I see will be the last, because Ill be out the door in two seconds flat.

  He fought to keep his face expressionless. How interesting. Unless she were the best liar hed ever met, she didnt recognize him. That had to be a first. Nor did she want to know him, which meant keeping her far from anyone who might give his identity away.

  As it happens, I do know the proper protocol, he responded in a grave voice. Youve missed the receiving line. Fortunate, since its damn boring. But its a serious lapse in etiquette to arrive so late. Youd be smart to get onto the dance floor as quickly as possible before someone notices and has you removed.

  Alarm flitted across her face before she caught the wicked gleam in his eyes. Her smile flashed, filling her expression with a sweetness as unexpected as it was appealing. I dont suppose theres anyone here who knows how to dance?

  He made a show of looking around before shaking his head. Ive seen these men in action. Its not worth the risk. Considering how late you are, its either me or the dungeon.

  Her eyes widened and she managed to
appear suitably shocked. The dungeon, huh?

  Im afraid so. He shrugged. Blame it on Prince Lander. He takes this whole I-am-lion-hear-me-roar stuff pretty seriously.

  So its either dance with you or be dragged off to the dungeon. Tough choice. She pretended to consider. I suppose Id be safer in the dungeon.

  True. He held out his hand. But safe isnt always as much fun.

  And rarely does it give us our hearts desire. She came to a swift decision. Ill dance with you.

  With that, she accepted the hand he offered. The instant they touched it was as if time slowed to a crawl. Outside of their tiny world, sound grew muffled. Light dimmed. Movement paused. Her fingers were long and supple within his, revealing both strength and softness. He found he didnt want to release her, didnt want to sever the connection between them. Rather he wanted to draw her closer, to taste her, inhale her, touch far more than just her hand.

  Her breath quickened as he continued to stare, the pulse leaping at the base of her throat. Her lips parted in anticipation and in that twilight of stillness he could feel the heady rush of scented air as she swayed toward him. It was all the agreement he needed, the most subtle of feminine signals giving him permission to take what he wanted. He tugged her into his arms, and just like that, time clicked back into its normal rhythm. He had enough self-possessionbarely enoughto turn his actions into the first steps of the waltz the orchestra was performing.

  Sweeping her onto the dance floor, he circled the room. She fit beautifully within his hold, her height making her a perfect match. He kept the dance simple and basic. She followed him without hesitation and he increased the intricacy of his movements, delighted when she matched him step for step.

  Her scent tantalized him, and he drew it deep into his lungs. Whats the perfume youre wearing? I dont recognize it.

  You wouldnt. It was a gift from She broke off self-consciously. Its a special blend, number 1794A.

  He couldnt help but wonder who had given it to her. A former husband? A current lover? Aw, hell. The fact that he cared was a bad sign. A very bad sign. He gritted his teeth, searching for something to say that would distract him from the futile path his thoughts were taking. What have you named it?