you having a good time, Miss Armstrong?”
The voice came from behind her. Turning, she saw the prince’s assistant standing behind a table. His smile betrayed nothing, but he must have seen her staring at the prince like a lovesick puppy dog. The fact she wasn’t the only one doing so saved her from total embarrassment. She straightened her posture. “Yes, I am.”
“I am Didier Alois, royal advisor to the prince. We met earlier.”
Remembering the incident with the armor, she chuckled. It wasn’t quite the impression she wanted to make. “Yes, we did.”
He motioned to his right. “Have you tried on the ring?”
“No, I haven’t.” The ring sat on a small pedestal covered with black velvet. If she hadn’t been so busy making goo-goo eyes at the prince, she would have noticed it immediately. “What is it?”
“It’s the royal engagement ring.” Didier removed the ring from the platform. Multicolored light was reflected off the different facets cut on the center stone, a diamond. “All the de Thierry brides have worn it.”
As beautiful as any of the crown jewels on display at the Tower of London, the large diamond glimmered under the overhead lights. The ring was almost medieval-looking with a wide filigree gold band inlaid with rubies, emeralds and sapphires. “It’s breathtaking.”
“Please, try it on.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“But you must,” Didier said. “All the women at the ball are required to try on the ring. Prince Richard will be upset if you don’t.”
Christina didn’t want to upset the prince, but she didn’t want to cause another incident, either. Apart from the chain mail glove, she’d managed to stay out of trouble. No sense pushing her luck. She took a step backward.
“Please, Miss Armstrong,” Didier coaxed. “We must see if it fits.”
“If the ring fits, do I win a prize or something?”
Didier grinned. “Or something.”
Christina glanced back at the prince. It would be nice to try on the ring, his ring. A chance of a lifetime. A chance to really be Cinderella at the ball. And how could she get in trouble if the prince’s own advisor had told her to try it on? Not even her father could get upset about it. The ring was way too small anyway. No way would it fit. After a moment of hesitation, she extended her left hand. “Okay.”
Didier brought the ring to her finger. Funny, but it almost felt like heat was emanating from the gold band. Must be Didier. Men were always hot. When the ring touched her skin, a buzz of electricity shot up her arm. She gasped, but Didier continued sliding the ring onto her finger. When he let go of her hand, Christina couldn’t believe it. The ring fit.
She stared at it. Beautiful. Someday, she would have an engagement ring of her own. Not this spectacular. A simple gold band would do. All she wanted was to find a man who would love her for who she was, a man who wanted what she did—children, pets, a porch with a swing. A normal life, a normal family.
No more limelight. No more photographs or headlines or snide remarks in gossip columns. No more twelve-inch-thick prenuptial agreements to protect an inheritance she didn’t want.
Didier furrowed his brow. “Are you all right, miss?”
“Yes,” Christina said, feeling warm and a little dizzy. Too much sun, too much champagne, too much lusting after Prince Richard. The proverbial clock had struck midnight. Time for this Cinderella to call it a night. “Thank you for letting me try it on. It’s exquisite.”
She pulled on the ring, but it wouldn’t budge.
Didier leaned toward her. “Is there a problem, Miss Armstrong?”
Christina pulled on it again, but her fingertips simply slid over the elaborately decorated band. The ring wouldn’t even twirl around her finger. “It seems to be stuck.”
“Let me try, miss.” Didier straightened his shoulders and tugged on the ring until Christina cried out in pain. “It doesn’t seem to be moving.”
She couldn’t understand why Didier smiled as if he’d just won the lottery. “I must get this ring off. If my father finds out, he’ll kill me. And the prince…” A glance told her Prince Richard was too engrossed in his conversation to realize what was happening. Christina wanted to keep it that way. “Would it be okay if I went to the ladies’ room and tried to remove it?”
For some reason, Didier seemed to be enjoying himself. His brown eyes twinkled; his smile grew wider. He looked almost giddy. “I don’t think it’s coming off.”
“Please.” Why had she allowed this to happen? She knew better. “I’d like to try.”
From his peripheral vision, Richard saw Didier approach. It was about time. If Richard heard one more boring piece of gossip about the United Kingdom’s royal family, he was going to reinstate flogging.
“May I speak with you for a moment, Your Highness?” Didier asked.
“Of course.” Richard bowed to the women surrounding him. “Excuse me, ladies.” As soon as the women were out of earshot, he sighed. “Thank you for coming to my aid, Didi. I never thought I would escape with all my clothes on. I felt like a rabbit surrounded by panting wolves. I was hoping you would leave the ring long enough to rescue me.” Richard glanced at its pedestal, the empty pedestal. No guard. No ring. His stomach knotted. “Where is the ring?”
Didier’s wide grin answered his question.
No. This could not be happening.
The legend wasn’t true; it wasn’t. The legend dictated he had to marry the woman whom the ring fit within a week or abdicate. He would do neither.
It was his duty to marry and produce an heir. He would, but not because he was turning thirty and a legend dictated it. He would marry whom he wanted, when he wanted.
Every decision in his life had been made for the sake of San Montico. He had sacrificed childhood dreams and adult desires for his family, his people, his country. But the choice of a wife was his, and his alone, to make. “Does anyone know? My mother?”
“No, we can make an announce—”
“Tell no one.” Richard needed time to think, time to come up with a plan. He would not let San Montico’s sentimental attachment to a legend take away the most important choice of his life and keep him from modernizing the country. “Where is…it?”
“In the ladies’ lounge,” Didier said. “With Miss Armstrong.”
Not her. Please not her.
“May I suggest a course of action, Your Highness?”
Richard clenched his teeth. “No. You have done enough.”
Please work. Please. Christina lathered her hands with soap. But the ring wouldn’t budge, not a fraction of an inch, not even a millimeter. She rinsed her hands, double-checking the drain
