my point.”
“I don’t concede anything.”
“That’s illogical. You’ve basically conceded.”
“No I haven’t.” She turned to go back into the ballroom. “But I’m through talking about it.”
He put an arm out, hand against the wall, blocking her passage. “Concede,” he demanded, his arrogance on proud display.
She stared up at him, aware once again of his wide shoulders and strong jaw. This was exactly the sort of man she had dreamed of in her adolescence, the sort of man who might grab a girl and throw her over his shoulder…. She shivered. What a ridiculous thought. She was adolescent no longer and she didn’t dream of macho men. They were passe, old hat, from another time. The ideal man should respect a woman and treat her just the way he would a casual friend. The prince was out of line as far as she was concerned.
She glared at him. “You can’t make me. You’re not a king yet, you know.”
“No,” he agreed, his eyes narrowing. “But I’m sure to become one. And whether or not you become a queen is still up in the air, isn’t it?”
She gasped. Turning back toward the balcony railing, she began to stroll, forcing him to follow her. “I don’t know why you want to marry me if you really can’t stand me.”
He looked stunned that she would come right out and say it. “I never said any such thing.”
“Your body language says it loud and clear.”
“Then you are misreading my body.”
Their gazes clashed, held for a long moment as they both digested the words he’d just spoken. Shannon felt heat flood her face, infuriating her even further. She quickly looked away. But they didn’t resume walking, and in a few seconds, their eyes met again, as though it was impossible for them to keep from doing it.
“I just want you to know,” Marco added roughly, “that I wouldn’t marry any woman that I couldn’t stand.”
She nodded crisply. “So the wedding is off?” she said, coolly searching his gaze.
He stared down at her as though she’d said something too outlandish to deal with, and suddenly Freddy was there, obsequiously inserting himself into the conversation. Shannon didn’t actually hear what he was saying. She was still staring into Marco’s gaze, wondering how she could be so angry with someone she found so attractive. But a moment later, she was leaving the balcony on Freddy’s arm, forcing herself to resist the urge to look back at the crown prince.
“I am not marrying that man,” she said through gritted teeth once she was alone with Greta in the dressing room. She saw the look that passed over Greta’s face and she added quickly, “And if Princess Iliana is smart, she won’t either.”
Funny, but she hadn’t spent much time wondering about the real Iliana before. The woman had hardly seemed real to her anyway. This was just a job she was doing. But now she had to face the fact that she’d been saying things in Iliana’s name, things that might last and have repercussions, and that fact made everything very different.
She was pacing the floor in pent-up frustration and Greta was watching her as though she were witnessing a natural phenomenon that threatened disaster but couldn’t be controlled. She stopped in front of the woman.
“You know, I’m going to have to talk to the princess when she gets back, before she meets with the prince. I’m going to have to tell her some of the things I’ve said to him. That is, if you all care about a smooth transition.”
She frowned. She knew Greta and Freddy were adamant that the princess would marry Marco. Their king had decreed it should be so and they were supposed to be making sure all went well. The fact that Iliana wasn’t cooperating was still a secret to most people. Greta had assured her that Iliana would come through when the chips were down—but weren’t they pretty much on the table at this point? And where was she?
Shannon shook her head, appealing to the woman’s common sense. “I don’t see how this is going to work. Once he sees her, isn’t he going to know she isn’t me?”
Greta shrugged helplessly, looking miserable. “What can we do? He is leaving tomorrow and won’t be back for a few weeks. By then, maybe the impression you’ve made will fade. We will hope that he will attribute differences to her not having the makeup and not being dressed for a ball.” Her hand went to her throat, diamonds sparkling. “But her voice…her demeanor.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, he is bound to think something is different. But we didn’t have much choice, did we? We had to take the chance.”
Shannon hesitated as a thread of guilt began to slither through her. She knew that Greta and Freddy were both scared to death of their employer, the king of Alovitia. She wasn’t sure if they were just afraid for their jobs and position in the royal scheme of things, or if they actually feared for their own physical safety. And she was afraid that her own performance tonight wasn’t going to help things where they were concerned.
“You know, we had a dreadful fight,” she told the poor woman. “I said some things I probably shouldn’t have said.” She gave her a look of regret. “He may want to call the marriage off, I don’t know.”
Greta’s eyes widened and she grabbed Shannon’s arm. “What did you do? The king will have my head for this!”
Shannon swallowed hard and blinked back some misery of her own. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“You must go back and make up with him.” Greta thrust her hand toward the door, bracelets jangling. “Now. Hurry!”
Shannon shook her head. “Oh no, Greta. I can’t do that. If you’d seen the way he looked at me….”
“Looks? You think that looks can hurt you?” She slapped the flat of her hand down on the table, her eyes almost wild. “The king will have more than looks waiting for me, I can tell you that. Why do you think he sent us here? We were to make sure his daughter bent to his will. This wedding must come about. It is King Mandrake’s command that it be so.” She put her hands together as though in prayer. “Please. Shannon. You must go back and make it up. You don’t understand how important this is.”
Shannon sighed. “You don’t understand how hard it would be,” she said softly. But she glanced into the mirror and caught a wayward strand of hair, already preparing for what she knew she had to do.
Crown Prince Marco paced the thick carpets of his hotel room, fuming as he went back over the conversation with the princess in his mind. “I don’t know if we can believe those rumors, Jordan. Even gangsters have standards.”
“Sir?”
He stopped to look at his valet in exasperation. “She’s exactly the sort of woman I never could stand. Has to make a smart remark about everything you say.” He threw up a hand. “Of course, maybe a gangster is the only type who likes that sort of thing.”
“Indeed, sir.”
Turning away and then quickly turning back again, he looked his valet in the eye. “Tell me, really, where did you hear those things about her?”
Jordan shrugged. “One hears things, Your
