never stops for love, Harrison thought as the musical number drew to an end.
“I believe he’s gone,” he whispered as he guided her off the dance floor.
“He is, but I’d still like to dance with you,” she said. “Perhaps this next number?”
“There you are!”
Harrison turned as King Easton came up to him. Being the same height, and after working with the king for such a long time, Harrison wondered why he hadn’t noticed the particular color of Easton’s eyes before. They reminded him of…
“I see you’ve met Lucia.”
Harrison turned to see whom Easton was referring to.
“Hello again, Grandfather,” Lucia replied. She kept her fingers lightly on Harrison’s arm. “Are you enjoying the reception?”
“Absolutely,” Easton replied. He gestured, and Harrison watched as his son, Devon, came forward. “Here she is, Devon. She was dancing with your father. Now take her out on the dance floor. Lucia’s too young to spend her time with all us elderly types.”
Harrison grimaced. How old that made him sound!
Lucia gently removed her fingers. “Thank you for the dance,” she said politely.
Devon gave her a low bow. “May I have this dance, Princess Lucia?”
“You may, Sir Montcalm,” she said as she took his arm.
Harrison watched her go. She glanced back over at him, and then as if remembering her role, she slid into a neutral facade and followed Devon’s lead.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” King Easton asked. “While I’m partial to CeCe’s beauty because she’s so much like my beloved Cassandra,” Easton mentioned his deceased wife, “one has to admit that Lucia has an innate beauty that is all her own.”
“Indeed,” Harrison somehow managed to agree noncommittally. The woman he had been dancing with was Princess Lucia!
“They make such a perfect couple.” Easton nodded with a contented smile. “Don’t you agree?”
Harrison looked at where his son held Lucia. She’d bowed her head, and was listening to something he said. A pang of jealousy shot through him. He tamped it down. His duty was, as always, to his king. “They make a good couple,” he stated, although his heart wasn’t anywhere near the words.
“I think so,” Easton said, obviously pleased that Lucia and Devon were beginning their second dance. “Ah, there’s Charlotte. Please excuse me, Harrison.”
Harrison bowed as the king moved away. Then he turned and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He’d had nothing to drink all evening, for Harrison never drank while in any type of royal capacity, but for tonight he’d make an exception with one glass.
After all, when the woman of your dreams is designated for your son, a little champagne can’t hurt.
“Shall we dance again?”
He tensed. He’d know her voice anywhere; already it had imbedded itself into his consciousness and into his soul.
“That wouldn’t be proper, Princess Lucia,” he replied, his tone deliberately cool.
“Proper?” Lucia frowned. Then a small tight smile came over her face. “Ah, Sir Harrison Mont-calm, man of duty, is back in full armor.” She saw his surprise. “Your son spent most of his time talking about you, and your many accomplishments.” She lifted a glass of champagne from a waiter and drained it in two gulps.
“Well, Sir Harrison Montcalm, I’m sure someone will fill you in that I’m not always proper. In fact, my date is that rock musician over there. I only brought him because it would annoy my mother, and keep her from playing matchmaker.”
With a thump, Lucia placed her empty champagne flute on a nearby table. Harrison winced for the flute.
“While I know all the correct etiquette, I find most of it boring and plain dull,” Lucia said.
She stepped toward him, her voice lowered for emphasis. “For some reason I thought you were different. I felt a connection between us, something I can’t exactly explain. I wanted to explore it, for whatever it was, I thought it was special.”
How her words hurt. Harrison so wanted to tell her that yes, he had felt it too. But duty came first. It always did.
Doing his duty meant he couldn’t tell her he’d felt it. He couldn’t even be with her. She was a princess.
As much as he wanted to tell her, to explain his reasoning, he kept silent.
For a brief second Lucia looked hurt, and Harrison’s stomach churned as her chin rose stubbornly.
“I could order you to dance, couldn’t I?” she asked, her gaze never leaving his.
“That you could, Princess.”
Lucia nodded, her look now bitterly disappointed. He hated hurting her. “I thought so. Good night, Sir Montcalm.”
And with that, she strode off toward her date, a man whose hair was longer than Lucia’s.
Harrison set his full flute of champagne down, the bubbly golden liquid untouched. Dancing with her had been a touch of heaven, but Harrison had learned long ago that heaven was not his to have.
He, retired general, Sir Harrison Montcalm, was one, too old for her, and two, not of her social circle. He could not ever have a relationship with a princess, especially the granddaughter of his king, his friend. With a heavy heart, he had turned away.
Chapter Two
The next day Lucia Carradigne was late for her interview.
Harrison paced the plush office allotted him during his stay at Korosol’s American embassy. Knowing he’d be seeing her again, he’d dressed even more impeccably than usual for the meeting. He wore a navy blue suit, a tie with the Korosolan crest and a white starched shirt.
Ellie had joked that morning that she’d never seen Harrison looking that put together. He’d run across Markus that morning as well, who since his return from Europe had been lurking around the embassy more than ever. Markus, of course, never missed an opportunity to dig at Harrison. He’d told Harrison he looked like a pallbearer.
Harrison glanced again at his Rolex, a gift from King Easton commemorating twenty-five years of service to the royal family.
Lucia Carradigne was now a half hour late.
A knock sounded at the door, and Harrison turned from where he’d been staring out the window at the United Nations Building.
“Come in,” he called.
“Harrison.” As Devon entered the room, Harrison’s face fell.
“Devon.” He greeted his
