the stab of hurt. She liked cars. She couldn’t help that. Wouldn’t want to, even if Adam, who she knew for a fact also liked cars, considered it a failing in a woman. “No. I’m not an expert on romance. But I am a woman.”
“You’re sure about that?”
This time she didn’t even try to hide her mortification. She took a much bigger step back. Her heart thumped, seeming to echo in her chest. She clamped shut the jaw that had fallen open.
Her uniform—a dark jacket and pants—had been designed for men and adapted for her, the only female driver. It was well tailored but it wasn’t exactly feminine. It wasn’t supposed to be. And it was nothing like Clara’s soft pink dress that had revealed expanses of skin and floated over her lush curves. Danni had always been something of a tomboy and preferred practicality along with comfort but she still had feelings and she had pride and Adam had just dented both. Adam, whose opinion shouldn’t matter to her. But apparently did.
Shock spread over his face. Shock and remorse. He reached for her then dropped his hand. “Danni, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I still see you as a kid. It still surprises me that you’re even old enough to have your license.”
She shoved the hurt down, tried to replace it with defiance. “I got my license over a decade ago. And you’re not that much older than me.”
“I know I’m not. It just feels like it sometimes.”
“True.” It had always felt that way. Adam had always seemed older. Distant. Unreachable.
He sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he said, “I’m sure you’re a fine woman, but it hardly qualifies you to give me dating advice. I’ve known enough women.”
“I’m sure you have,” she said quietly. Of late there had been quite the string of them. All of them beautiful, intelligent and worldly, with much to recommend them for the position of future princess. But despite those apparent recommendations, he’d seldom dated the same woman twice. And never, to her knowledge, a third time. She didn’t mean to keep track, but a glance at the papers on any given day, even if only when lighting the fire in her father’s gatehouse, kept track for her. But it certainly wasn’t her place to comment and the implied criticism would centuries ago have cost her her head.
She was thankful for the fact that beheadings hadn’t been legal for several centuries because judging by the displeasure in Adam’s eyes, he just might have been in favor of the practice right about now. For a moment she actually thought he might lose his legendary cool. She couldn’t even feel triumph. There had been a time when, egged on by Adam’s younger brother Rafe, flapping the unflappable Adam had been a pastime for the small group of children raised on the palace estate. But she was still too preoccupied with covering her own hurt to feel anything akin to satisfaction.
Adam drew himself taller. The barrier of remoteness shuttered his face, hardened his jaw. “I apologize, Danielle. Unreservedly. Thank you for your services tonight. They won’t be required in future.”
Sacked. He’d sacked her again.
Danni was still stung by her run-in with Adam the next night as she and her father ate their minestrone in front of the fire. Soup and a movie was their Sunday night tradition.
They finished the first half of the tradition and settled in for the movie. A big bowl of buttery popcorn sat on the coffee table and an action adventure comedy was ready to go in the DVD player, just waiting for her press of the button.
Usually, when she was in San Philippe she came round from her apartment for the evening. But her place was being redecorated so she’d been staying with her father for the last week. She had yet to tell him about the fiasco last night. Tonight would be the perfect opportunity.
But she hadn’t fully recovered from the experience.
Although she pretended to herself that she was indifferent, at odd moments the latter part of the evening resurfaced and replayed itself in her head. She should have done everything so differently. Starting with keeping her mouth shut in the first place.
As head driver, her father had a right to know what had happened. Would expect to know. But she hadn’t been able to tell him. Because more than head driver, he was her father and he’d be so disappointed in her. And she hated disappointing the man who’d done so much for her and who asked so little of her.
It had occurred to her that if she just kept quiet, he need never know. It’s not as if she’d ever be driving for Adam again.
Besides, her silence was justified because her father was still so saddened by the visit to his friend. She wanted to alleviate, not add, to that sorrow. At least that was her excuse. The movie they were about to watch would be the perfect tonic. The fact that it featured an awesome and realistic car chase scene would be an added bonus. And they’d both once met the main stunt driver.
It didn’t matter, she told herself, if she never drove for Adam again. It was such a rare occurrence in the first place it was hardly going to make any difference. And she knew Adam wouldn’t let it have any bearing on her father’s position within the palace staff. No. Their exchange had been personal. He’d keep it so. That was part of his code.
She’d just found the television remote when three sharp knocks sounded at the door. Her father looked at her, his curiosity matching hers. He moved to stand but Danni held up her hand. “Stay there. I’ll get it.”
Visitors were rare, particularly without notice. Because her father lived on the palace grounds, in what had once been the gatehouse, friends couldn’t just drop by on a whim.
Danni opened the door.
This was no friend.
Two
“Adam.” Danni couldn’t quite keep the shock from her voice. Was this about last night or was there some further trouble she had gotten into?
“Danielle.” His face was unreadable. “I’d like to talk to you. May I come in?”
After the briefest hesitation she stepped back, giving him access. Much as instinct and pride screamed to do otherwise, you didn’t refuse the heir to the throne when he asked to come in. But to her knowledge, the last time Adam had been on this doorstep looking for her was fifteen years ago when he and Rafe had turned up to invite her to join in the game of baseball they were organizing. She couldn’t quite remember the reason for the game—something to do with a leadership project Rafe had been doing for school. What she remembered with absolute clarity was how badly that endeavor had ended.
Adam stepped into the small entranceway, dominating the space. He smelled good. Reminding her of last night. By rights she should loathe the scent linked with her mortification rather than want to savor it. She heard her father standing up from the couch in the living room behind her.
“St. Claire.” Adam smiled at her father. “Nothing important. I wanted a word with Danielle if I may.”
“Of course. I’ll just pop out to the workshop.”
Danni didn’t want her father to hear whatever it was Adam was about to say because despite his apparent efforts at geniality it couldn’t possibly be good. Nor did she want her father to go because while he was here Adam might actually have to refrain from saying whatever it was that had brought him here.
“Working
