eyes hardened. She felt her heart sink. Convincing a man like Hugh Jordan that he was wrong wasn’t an option, she saw.
“The pleasure is mine, Your Highness,” he said in a tone so smooth and hard it reminded her of volcanic glass. “I look forward to spending some time later this evening discussing our…mutual interests.”
Before she could summon her voice to reply, he released her hand and moved on, forcing her to deal with the next guest and giving her no time to collect herself. Only part of her mind was on her duty, she found. What did he mean—discuss their mutual interests? He had come to Carramer to negotiate setting up a ranch on Nuee, the ranch she herself had wanted to establish. If the American thought he could take advantage of their earlier encounter to involve her in his project against her will, he was in for a disappointment.
The idea was so distasteful that she rejected it instinctively. She recognized an element of wishful thinking in the hope that he wasn’t the type to do such a thing. Just because he had come to her rescue didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t use it to get something he wanted. Her position made her an ideal target, she knew.
Hugh Jordan had stumbled on a secret known only to her immediate staff. How would he use the information? The question nagged at her all through the ritual of predinner drinks. Usually she enjoyed circulating among her guests, showing her appreciation for their generous support of the children’s charity. Tonight she was so agitated that Cindy put a hand on her arm and steered her aside.
“Are you feeling all right, Your Highness?”
“What makes you ask?”
“You’re on your second glass of champagne already. That isn’t like you at all, especially when you’ve eaten so little.”
Adrienne looked at the goblet in her hand, surprised to find it almost drained. She had drunk it without being conscious of it. Cindy was right. Usually she restricted herself to mineral water before meals and a single glass of wine at dinner. “Thanks for noticing. I guess I’m a little distracted tonight.” Shaken, she handed the glass to Cindy.
Her assistant set it aside. “You looked a bit shell-shocked when I introduced Hugh Jordan. Do you know him?”
“Tonight was the first time we’ve been introduced.”
Cindy accepted the literal truth without question. “Just as well, because as the appeal’s largest donor, he’s seated on your right at dinner. He’ll be coming to escort you in at any minute.”
Adrienne’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the man who captured her attention even across the considerable expanse of the ballroom. Again her heart started its uncomfortably fast beating at the sight of him. Wearing hand-tailored evening clothes, he managed to look more like one of the cold-eyed lawmen she’d seen in films about the American West. He was a head taller than most of the other male guests, and she saw him methodically scan the crowd until he located his quarry—her.
He started toward her like an aimed bullet, the crowd making way for him as if Hugh and not Adrienne had been royalty. She sensed his disapproval from a dozen feet away, and it cut through her like a knife. “Is there time to change the seating arrangements?” she asked Cindy in a low voice.
Cindy checked her watch. “We’re due to sit down in four minutes. I’d have to ask the kitchen staff to delay serving dinner while I reshuffle the seating.” She sounded frayed and Adrienne knew if anyone else had suggested it, her assistant would have told them what she thought in no uncertain terms.
“Don’t bother, then, everything will be fine,” she assured her assistant. It wasn’t fair to burden her with a problem Adrienne had to admit was of her own making. She lifted her head and fixed her best princess-smile to her face as the source of her tension reached her side. “Mr. Jordan, I’m told we’re to be dinner partners.”
He offered her his bent arm, and she was proud of hesitating only fractionally as she tucked her hand into it. “All things considered, you should call me Hugh,” he growled. “I already know the name you prefer to answer to.”
She knew he was referring to Dee, the name he had heard her use at the fair. “My name is Adrienne,” she said firmly, wishing she wasn’t bound by the rules of etiquette to keep her hand in his arm when every instinct urged her to tear herself free and run as fast as she could away from him.
The banquet table was large enough to land a small plane on, but with Hugh at her side she felt as if it was barely roomy enough for the two of them. “What brings you to Nuee, Hugh?” she made herself ask in a conversational tone, as the first course was served with the precision of a military operation.
“I’m sure your staff briefed you on why I’m here. But for the record, I plan to establish a ranch north of Nuee City and breed saddle horses. It’ll be the South Pacific counterpart of a similar facility I own back in the States.”
As the governor of the islands of Isle des Anges and Nuee, her brother, Prince Michel, had to give royal assent before a foreigner could make an investment on that scale in Carramer, she knew. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to convince Michel to change his mind. “How far advanced are your plans?” she asked.
“Far enough. The land is already mine through a Carramer-based holding company. All I need now is royal approval to set up the ranch.”
Approval her brother had withheld from his own sister, she reminded herself, feeling her anger rise. “I suppose you want me to put in a good word for you with Michel,” she said, her tone unconsciously harsh.
He took a sip of the excellent French wine she had refused in favor of mineral water. “I should think you’d be more worried about what I might say to the prince than what you should say to him,” he said.
She was uncomfortably sure that she knew exactly what he was suggesting but she decided to make him spell it out. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
He glanced around, but the guests nearest to them were engrossed in conversation and enjoying the seafood course that had been placed before them. “You know exactly what I mean…Dee.”
So he did intend to take advantage of what he had learned about her activities. Her spirits plummeted. “Kindly don’t call me that here,” she said, keeping defeat out of her voice with an effort. She hadn’t known quite how much she valued her vacations from duty until they were under threat.
“I gather no one knows about your little foray but you and me.”
“My personal staff know that I like to…keep in touch,” she said awkwardly.
“Is that what you call risking your beautiful neck for a few thrills?”
She drew herself up regally. “You presume a lot on very little knowledge, Mr. Jordan.”
His hand slid over hers in a fleeting but oddly possessive gesture. “It’s a bad habit of mine, especially with a lady whose beautiful a—anatomy I’ve had the pleasure of saving.”
“Crudely put but accurate,” she snapped. “Why do I sense that a simple thank-you isn’t enough to persuade you to drop the subject?”
“Because it won’t be,” he said so mildly that it hardly sounded like a threat at all. More a promise, she thought. Men like Hugh Jordan didn’t threaten. “Why did you refuse me when I asked for a meeting?”
“I
