Palace had been a hive of activity. First had been the ball welcoming Ariane to Rhineland. Then for three nights running, the formal dining room had been filled with government officials, dignitaries and special friends of the family who wanted to spend some time with the princess.
Etienne would have given his eyeteeth to have been seated next to Ariane. But since she was the guest of honor, her place was near his parents. And as a member of the Kroninberg family, Etienne had to do his part by sitting at the opposite end of the table and entertaining the guests who were not fortunate enough to sit nearer the princess.
During each lingering meal, Etienne had had a hard time giving the dinner guests his full attention. And the reason was simple.
Ariane.
Tonight she wore a sleeveless, figure-hugging dress in a captivating shade of burnt orange. The hue of the shiny-looking fabric set off both her deep blue eyes and her tanned, curvy body. Her honey-blond hair fell, sleek and loose, just past her shoulders, and Etienne kept daydreaming about combing his fingers through those soft tresses.
Ariane’s easy smile flashed now at something his mother said, and he felt as if someone had stirred a pile of slow-burning embers inside him. Heat coiled in his belly and his jaw unwittingly tightened against the yearning that was kindled.
He wanted this woman. In the worst way.
Etienne still suspected she was playacting. That the empty-headed persona she was presenting was just that. A mask. A guise.
However, he had to admit that he wasn’t quite sure. If she was putting on a show, she sure was good at it. Not once in the days that she’d been in Rhineland had she slipped up. Time and again, she’d draw the government officials into political discussions only to make some outlandish remark that made her seem downright silly.
But why did she continue to choose a topic on which she seemed to know so little? Did she not realize how dense it made her appear? Maybe she really was flighty and shallow.
No. Etienne refused to fall for that, no matter how hard the princess was working to make everyone around her believe it. There was an intelligence in those midnight eyes of hers that just seemed to be screaming for release.
What he needed to do was force her to show her true self. To somehow trip her up. And he didn’t want to do that in the company of anyone else.
Suddenly a plan formed in his head. He’d invite her to dinner in his private suite, talk to her about world governments. She certainly seemed interested in the subject. He’d make some purposefully erroneous remarks about different political principles and then he’d see if she rose to the bait. He nearly chuckled at the perfection of his plan. No woman could resist correcting a man who was blatantly wrong. Ariane would be no exception.
But what to do about the princess’s lady-in-waiting? Simple good manners dictated that he invite Francie along to dinner, too.
Then he thought of Harry, his equerry. The two of them were close friends…Etienne suppressed a grin…they’d even been partners in crime a time or two when they’d been students together at Eton. Berkshire, England hadn’t known what had hit it after the two of them had pulled a couple of their harmless pranks.
His friendship with Harry had been what had prompted Etienne to ask the Brit to move to Rhineland as his personal assistant.
Harry’s ornery streak was still thick enough that he could easily come up with a scheme to coax Francie out of Etienne’s apartments, leaving Etienne alone with Ariane for a while. Better yet, Harry could waylay Francie even before the two women were to arrive for dinner.
Etienne could hardly contain his mirth as he realized that his own ornery streak hadn’t faded much over the years.
The plan set, he nodded enthusiastically at something the old gentleman beside him said, and when everyone around him laughed, he followed suit. However his mind was focused on tomorrow evening…when he’d succeed in getting Ariane alone.
Where in the world was Francie? Ariane paced the sitting room of the guest suite. She’d been dressed and ready for half an hour.
Dinner with the prince. In his apartments.
Ariane trembled inside.
Her case of nerves had a twofold cause. First off, she was uneasy about her ability to keep up this brainless façade. So many times over the past few days she’d nearly blurted out her true opinions to the administrators and bureaucrats she’d talked with. She’d discovered just how much she abhorred looking like a senseless idiot.
And secondly, she’d done everything she could to keep from being alone with Etienne. Those mesmerizing moments they had shared on her first night in his country had really thrown her for a loop.
Before arriving in Rhineland she’d thought of Etienne as nothing more than a means to an end in her goal of discovering who was plotting against her country. But she’d quickly discovered that the prince was an alluring man. A sexy danger to her mission. Like flint against steel, he sparked feelings in her that she wasn’t up to dealing with right now.
When she’d received his dinner invitation this morning, her first reaction had been relief. All those formal meals were beginning to get to her. She’d smiled so much that her cheek muscles were becoming sore.
Fretfulness had Ariane actually opening the door of the guest suite and peering down the hallway one way, then the other, in search of Francie. She stepped back inside and shut the door.
She glanced at the beautifully carved German cuckoo clock on the wall. Being fashionably late was one thing, but this was bordering on nothing short of bad manners.
What was worse? she wondered. A terribly tardy arrival? Or visiting the prince’s private apartments without her lady in tow?
Certainly, Etienne would have staff members in attendance to serve the meal. And surely Harry, his personal assistant, would be present, as well. There should be plenty of people milling about to act as chaperones.
Not that a princess needed a chaperone in this day and age. However, Ariane almost smiled as she thought of how her elderly and quite conservative grandmother, the dowager queen, would respond. It was never seemly, Simone would say, for a single woman to visit a bachelor’s private rooms unescorted.
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