young man in front of him, was now a man he barely knew.
They couldn’t be more apart, despite their similarities. Sure, they both had a military-cut hairstyle. Devon’s color was a lighter brown, and was minus the gray that graced Harrison’s head. They shared hazel eyes. But they didn’t share the closeness of a father and son.
One more of the regrets in his life, Harrison mused with a twinge of bitterness.
If Devon sensed his father’s thoughts, he didn’t indicate it. Instead, the captain of the Royal Guard and person in charge of Korosol security got right to business.
“I wanted you to know that I’m getting a little closer to where Krissy Katwell may be getting her information. I’ve been able to secure some of her telephone records,” Devon said.
“Legally, of course,” Harrison interjected. Inwardly he winced when he saw Devon’s expression. Of course his son would do things legally. Devon was a by-the-book type of man.
“Of course,” Devon said, quickly covering up his own hurt at being second-guessed by his father.
“Good work,” Harrison said, trying to repair his gaffe. “I’m sure you’re quite on top of things.”
“Yes,” Devon replied. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “King Easton sent me down here. He said that you were interviewing Princess Lucia and he suggested that it might be to my benefit for security reasons to be present for the interview.”
Another matchmaking attempt, Harrison thought with an inward groan. He studied his son thoughtfully for a moment. Devon didn’t seem too keen, or too overly eager, to be a part of the interview.
But then, Devon would do what the king wished, no matter what his personal feelings were. Besides, if Devon had personal feelings for the princess, Harrison doubted his son would share them with his father. They’d never been close enough to have ever once shared personal confidences.
“I think I can handle it on my own,” Harrison said smoothly. “I believe having to face two Mont-calm men might be a bit overwhelming, even for a princess.”
“True.” Devon nodded. “But King Easton was most insistent.”
“I’ll explain your absence to the king,” Harrison said, sealing his own fate irrevocably. “Right now your time is better spent on discovering where Krissy Katwell is getting her information. You know from our meeting earlier this week about Easton and my suspicions as to her source, and hence, time is of the essence. Krissy Katwell has already done quite a bit of damage to the Carradigne name. She needs to be stopped, and her source silenced.”
“Understood.” Devon deferred to the judgment of his father, and technically his superior in rank. “I’ll report back to you as soon as I know more.”
“Very good.” Harrison glanced at his watch again. He frowned. Lucia was now forty-five minutes late.
Not a good sign for someone who wanted to be queen. He glanced up at Devon, who was still standing in the office.
Devon had a strange, questioning look on his face as he studied his father. “Harrison, is something wrong?”
It had always bothered Harrison that Devon never called him “Dad” or even “Father.” But he didn’t dwell on that now. “Princess Lucia was supposed to be here at three.”
Devon frowned. As captain of the Royal Guard, his concern was immediate. “Do you think something has happened to her?”
No. She’s making me pay for rejecting her. She’s proving who is boss. The insight hit Harrison like a freight train. Being late was the oldest female trick in the book, and here he was, pacing his office and checking his watch every minute.
As quickly as it had come, he dismissed the thought. Lucia didn’t strike him as being like that. He contemplated his gut reaction a moment. Instinct told him that Lucia was nothing like Mary. Devon’s mother had used those tricks many times. Harrison’s instinct was never wrong.
“I think the princess is just running behind,” Harrison replied, giving Lucia the benefit of the doubt. “She’s a very busy lady, and I’m sure she got caught up in something that was unavoidable.”
Devon nodded. “If she doesn’t show soon, let me know and I’ll find out what’s wrong.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
At the silken female voice, both men turned toward the doorway. Harrison sucked in his breath.
Time away from her hadn’t diminished his first impressions. As always, she was beautiful. Her dark blond hair fell to her shoulders, and her green eyes darkened as her gaze found Harrison.
“Hello, Harrison,” she said.
Belatedly, Harrison remembered he needed to bow. He and Devon both scrambled and bowed low.
“Princess Lucia.” Harrison tried to maintain a formal tone as he straightened. “Please come in. It’s good to see you.” He reached for the coat she was shedding.
She gave him a genuine smile as her fingers lightly touched his while transferring the garment. “It’s good to see you too, Harrison. I trust I’m finding you well?”
“Of course,” he said, realizing too late that somehow she’d already gained the upper hand by again calling him by his first name.
“Are you going to be present for this interview, Sir Devon?” As Lucia turned and faced the younger man, Harrison took a moment to study what Lucia wore. He’d heard she usually wore bohemian-type clothing, like flowing skirts and peasant blouses. But today was different. Like at the wedding reception, she appeared regal, refined. Her pale pink trouser suit celebrated the start of spring. The color suited her.
“No, Princess. I was just leaving. If you’d please excuse me.” Devon bowed again and posted a hasty retreat.
Lucia turned and faced Harrison. He managed to swallow, and somehow years of training kept his face immobile. That was until she turned on the charm and smiled widely again the moment they were alone. “Yes, I must say that it’s good to see you, Harrison. I’ve been looking forward to this interview ever since my grandfather called me and told me about it.”
Harrison somehow managed an appropriate gesture to a seat. As Lucia sat down, her perfume wafted past him. She smelled like roses again.
She looked expectantly at him. “So if you’re ready?”
Inwardly Harrison groaned. Where Lucia was concerned, he doubted he would ever be ready.
SHE HADN’T MEANT to be late. But someone had slipped down onto the subway tracks, delaying the trains uptown for a good half hour.
Lucia settled herself into the chair as Harrison brought her a glass of ice water. Perhaps she should have taken a taxicab as her mother always insisted. After all, as the past two months had demonstrated, she was a princess, and therefore she could technically be a target of a kidnapping attempt. But still Lucia valued her anonymity too much to give it up yet.
She thrived in New York City’s sea of anonymous faces. A people-watcher by nature, Lucia credited a
