is the right word. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“And if he tries it with some other woman?”
Another woman might not have a white knight handy to help her, the princess admitted to herself. “I’ll…I’ll report it when I get home,” she conceded. “He isn’t going far in that condition.”
“You’re probably right.”
He sounded reluctant to leave it there, and she got the impression he was a man who liked to see justice done. It would be, but not right now. “Thanks for coming to my rescue,” she said. “How did you know I was here?”
“That silly balloon of yours. I saw it jerking around in the air from the other side of the wall.”
That silly balloon as he called it just might have saved her life, she thought, and shuddered. He noticed her shudder and asked again, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She wasn’t, but she made herself nod.
Hugh noticed the way her lovely long-fingered hands were clenched together, the gesture not quite concealing how much she was trembling. He took her arm. “Come on, we’re going to get you a drink.”
It was a measure of her agitation that she didn’t argue this time, he thought as he led her out of the alleyway and through the crowd to the members’ pavilion. In the lounge, he found a quiet table in a corner and pulled out a chair for her. “What would you like to drink?”
She sank into it and rested her head on her hands. “Just coffee, thank you. I…I can’t stay long.”
He corralled a waiter to bring them steaming cups of the wonderfully aromatic local coffee. When it arrived, his companion seemed content to cup her hands around it, drawing comfort from the warmth.
“Feeling better now, Dee?” he asked her.
Her head came up. “What did you call me?”
“That is the name you gave the cowboy, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “He said his was Kye.”
“That should help you identify him for the authorities.”
“Yes, of course.” Making a complaint officially would involve too many awkward explanations, so she would have to find another way to make sure the cowboy was held accountable for his behavior. She was thankful when a commotion on the other side of the room saved her from further explanation. “What’s going on there?”
“They’re introducing Miss Show Princess to the press,” he explained. “It’s mentioned in the program.”
The sight of so many cameras and microphones made her distinctly uneasy and she half-rose. “I should leave.”
“Finish your coffee,” he urged. “We’re not in anyone’s way.”
All the same she kept her head bent toward her companion as if they were deep in conversation. Among the press she had spotted a couple of the paparazzi who made the royal family their special targets. At least their attention was on another kind of princess for the moment, she thought gratefully, wincing as flashbulbs exploded around a glamorous young woman wearing a satin sash across a traditional leuer gown.
“You’re on edge,” the American said when she jumped. “It’s hardly surprising. You should have your doctor check you over when you get home.”
She looked up at him, mesmerized by his brilliant gaze. He was really worried about her, she thought. Tears prickled the backs of her eyes and she put it down to her recent brush with the drunk, but knew there was more going on here. It was so rare to have someone concern themselves with her as an individual, rather than because of her position, that she was touched in spite of herself. “It’s good advice.”
“Then make sure you take it.”
Another flashbulb popped, close to them this time. Miss Show Princess and her entourage had moved across the room to take advantage of the panoramic view of the fairgrounds beyond the lounge windows. It brought them to within a few feet of Adrienne’s table. Shaken, she pushed her chair back. “I really must go.”
The American moved to her side to help her up but was jostled by one of the photographers, throwing him against Adrienne. Instinctively he reached for her, steadying her. Anyone might have done the same, but she was stunned by the eddies of awareness the contact set up in her. She put it down to her heightened vulnerability after her encounter with the cowboy, but that hardly accounted for the strength of her response. She looked up at the American in confusion.
At that moment another flashbulb popped, then a whole barrage of them as Miss Show Princess paraded for the cameras. Adrienne used the moment to slip away toward the door, aware that the American was close behind her. “There’s no need to leave on my account,” she insisted.
“I only came for the equestrian events,” he said. “I’ll see you home.”
“No.” The word came out more forcefully than she intended, and she saw his expression turn cold. After he had done so much for her, she hadn’t meant it to sound so much like a dismissal, but she could see he had taken it as one. “I mean, my car’s parked right outside.”
“Then I’ll see you to your car,” he said coolly.
Thankfully, she had borrowed an unpretentious sedan from her assistant, who knew about her little adventures. Her staff might not approve, but their loyalty to her ensured that they helped her and kept her secret. “Thank you for everything,” she said as she got in. He nodded.
He watched as she maneuvered the small car out of the tight space and drove off. About to turn away, he spotted a flash of crimson on the ground. Her scarf must have caught in the door and been pulled off when she closed it.
He picked it up, and a faint whiff of her scent teased his nostrils—richly floral, like a balmy tropical evening, he thought. He tucked it into his jacket pocket. Nuee was a small island. It wouldn’t hurt to hang on to the scarf in case they met again.
Chapter Two
In response to a direct tap on her dressing room door, Adrienne said, “Come in.”
It was her personal assistant, Cindy Cook. The leather-bound file she carried under her arm made an interesting contrast with her pale-blue ball gown. She bobbed a curtsy then stopped short. “You look wonderful, Your Highness.”
Cindy had worked for the princess since they graduated from university together, so she wasn’t given to flattery for its own sake. Adrienne felt pleased that her new gown had made such a strong impression.
It was a glorious emerald-green, the color being one reason Adrienne had fallen in love with it; the design was another. From the front it looked like a stylish sheath that outlined her slender curves before fanning into a miniature train at her feet.
The back was a different matter. Cut almost to the waist, the dress was supported by a web of shoestring straps crisscrossing her bare back. With her glossy black hair swirled into a mass of curls high on her head and set off by an emerald tiara, she looked every inch the royal princess,
