Not-So-Perfect Princess (10 page)

Julianna should wear a more sophisticated, elegant gown with sleek lines to show off her delicious curves. He imagined her walking down the cathedral aisle in such a dress and pictured himself waiting for her…

What the hell?

Alejandro shook the image from his head. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, let alone a bride. Especially one who was already engaged and held the key to his freedom.

Julianna stared at the spectacle of a dress in front of her. Tears welled in her eyes.

“I told you she would like this.” A smug smile settled on Enrique’s lips. “She’s crying tears of joy.”

Alejandro balled his hands. He barely managed to keep his fists at his sides. He wanted to punch his brother in the nose and knock some sense into his inflated, ego-filled head.

The guy had to be a narcissist not to realize Julianna was horrified, not joyful. Either that, or Enrique was that dense about women.

“That is my sister’s wedding dress?” Brandt asked with a tone of disbelief.

Enrique nodded, visibly pleased with himself. “I told the designer to create a royal wedding dress fit for a fairy-tale princess bride.”

“When?” Julianna muttered. “When did you tell her that?”

“A while ago,” Enrique admitted. “When my father decided I should wed.”

Julianna pressed her lips together. Alejandro didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. Enrique had requested the gown for a generic bride, not with Julianna in mind.

More proof this show today was for Enrique’s benefit, no one else’s. He knew exactly how
he
wanted things. Who cared about anyone else, including his bride who hadn’t even been considered in the dress design?

Alejandro had come up against his brother’s ego many times. He’d lost most battles and won a few, but he’d never been so angry with Enrique as he was now.

“Try on the dress,” Enrique urged.

Alejandro waited for Julianna to speak up, to say she wanted to pick out her own wedding dress.

She squared her shoulders.

He smiled. This should be good.

“Let’s go see how the dress looks on me, Yvette.” Julianna set off toward the wedding dress with her maid in tow.

Alejandro stared in disbelief. Julianna had no problem yesterday speaking up to him, showing sass and spunk when it came to Boots’s name and being helmsman. He couldn’t understand why she remained silent now.

He glanced at Brandt. Surely the crown prince would stand up for his big sister? But he followed Julianna without saying a word.

What was going on? Alejandro watched from the other side of the music room as they approached the atrocious wedding gown.

“I knew this was a good idea,” Enrique said in a low, but singsong manner.

Alejandro gritted this teeth. “A bride should choose her own gown.”

“This was part of the wedding negotiations with King Alaric.”

“The king approves of Julianna wearing a dress you picked out?” Alejandro asked.

Enrique nodded. “King Alaric paid for all of this, including the wedding gown I commissioned months ago. The old fool is so desperate to have grandchildren he agrees to anything I ask for. He’s giving me an extra ten million if I keep Julianna from ever sailing again. Imagine that.”

“I can’t.” Outrage tightened Alejandro’s jaw until it ached. For that amount of money, Enrique would never change his mind about Julianna sailing again. “Especially since she seems to enjoy the sport.”

“She’ll get over it.” Enrique’s brush-off bothered Alejandro more than usual. “Remember, she has me. That will be enough for her.”

His brother’s uncaring attitude roused Alejandro’s protective instincts. Someone had to take a stand for her. “Julianna might be happier if—”

Enrique cut him off. “Her happiness isn’t my priority. I only care about her dowry, ability to produce heirs and obeying my orders.”

Alejandro had never seen his brother act so callous. “This is wrong.”

“I’m treating her the way she expects to be treated. Women in Aliestle are used to being ordered about. It’s all they know.”

“Enrique, don’t—”

“Enough.” Enrique sneered. “If you say a word to Julianna or Brandt about any of this, I’ll shut down the Med Cup this year.”

“You can’t cancel the race.”

“I can, and I will.”

With the threat hanging in air, he strutted toward the others like a proud peacock.

Alejandro seethed. He needed his brother to marry if he wanted to be released from his princely duties and obligations. But what would the cost of that freedom be?

He stared at Julianna. She touched the skirt of the wedding dress with a hesitant hand. She claimed marrying Enrique was better than returning to Aliestle. Alejandro had his doubts.

The women in pink removed the frothy confection of a wedding gown from the mannequin. Julianna and her maid followed them behind a white, fabric-paneled screen.

Enrique’s threat made it impossible for Alejandro to take action. Not that he could stop the royal wedding since Julianna wanted to marry his brother. But Alejandro could do something else.

He could make the Med Cup race memorable for Julianna. He could show her how skilled and talented she was. He could make her see she deserved the best from the crew, the staff and most especially, her husband.

That was the least Alejandro could do for the beautiful princess bride. And he would.

I look like a puff pastry.

Jules stared at her reflection in the three-part mirror with horror. She couldn’t believe Enrique wanted her to wear this monstrosity at their wedding. She’d thought for a few short moments he’d wanted to make her happy and gone to all this trouble to make her feel…special. But he hadn’t.

Do you really think Enrique’s going to send you back to Aliestle and walk away from a hundred-million-dollar dowry because you went sailing?

Alejandro’s words reaffirmed what she knew in her heart and her mind. Enrique only cared about her dowry. He’d made it sound like all this had been for her, but it was really for him. She’d overheard the manicurist talking to the hairstylist about putting together a list of improvements for the crown prince. No one cared about Jules’s opinion.

Thank goodness Enrique hadn’t stuck around long. Otherwise she might have said something impolite. At least she didn’t feel quite so guilty about agreeing to sail in the Med Cup and going behind his back.

One of the women in pink raised the hem of the dress. Tulle scratched Jules leg. “We’ll need to add another ruffle.”

No. Her stomach churned. Not another ruffle. The dress had too many as it was.

She inhaled to calm herself. The potent mixture of the different perfumes the women wore made her cough. Her eyes watered.

Delia, the dress designer, and her team jotted notes and marked the dress with pins.

Jules tried to ignore them. She needed a distraction. A quick survey of the room yielded nothing. Alejandro must have left before Enrique. She would have to rely on her own imagination.

She imagined being on
La Rueca
and holding the wheel in her hands. The metal felt smooth beneath her palms. The boat heeled and water splashed against her face and wet her clothes. Alejandro manned the jib sheet, his flexed muscles glistening from a combination of sweat and water. He glanced back at her. His handsome face filled with pleasure, his dark eyes gleaming with hunger for her. An answering desire sparked low in her belly as the wind whipped through her hair—

“With the dreamy look in your eyes, you must be picturing your wedding day,” a woman’s voice broke through Julianna’s thoughts.

She turned off the romantic scene playing in her head and brought herself back to the present.

“You look gorgeous, ma’am.” Delia motioned to the women in pink. “Let’s button up the back to see how the gown fits.”

Jules didn’t—couldn’t—say anything. She’d rather daydream about sailing with Alejandro than think about marrying a man who would have a wedding gown designed for a nameless, faceless bride. A dress more suited for a younger woman who wanted to be a fairy-tale princess, not a woman a couple of years away from turning thirty. The thought of walking down the aisle wearing the dress filled her with dread.

Don’t think about that.
She imagined herself with the wind on her face, the taste of salt in her mouth and Alejandro next to her.

Someone pulled on the left side of dress. “It’s a little tight.”

Jules pretended the lifeline tugged against her, keeping her attached to the boat. With iffy weather and big waves, falling overboard could be fatal.

As would be continuing to fantasize about Alejandro.

“It’ll fit,” another woman said.

The pressure around Jules’s midsection increased. She felt as if she were caught in the middle of a tug-of-war game. The air rushed from her lungs, forced out by whatever was being tightened around her.

“Can’t breathe,” Jules croaked.

“Release the buttons and strings,” Delia ordered.

The women did.

“Thank you,” Jules said.

“Sorry, Ma’am.” Delia’s cheeks flushed. “The dress is too large in the bust and too small in the waist. I’ll take measurements so I can alter the gown.”

Enrique must have given the measurements for his idea of the perfect bride. Jules wasn’t surprised he wanted an eighteen-year-old woman with the proportions of a real-life Barbie doll. She remembered the room he’d picked out for her with the garden view to make her happy. One of Enrique’s problems was he assumed everyone’s tastes were the same as his own or should be.

Using a measuring tape, the designer and her assistants took measurements and scribbled notes.

Jules wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but despair crept along the edges of her mind, threatening to swamp her. The reality of what kind of marriage she would have had become clearer.

Running away, giving up duty and family for happiness, no longer seemed like such a drastic measure. She could shuck the awful dress and flee. No more grinning and bearing it. No more doing what everyone else wanted her to do.

But that behavior wasn’t any more her than the wedding gown. Jules wanted a better future for her children and her country. She had a plan. She would have to be content with her sailing rebellion.

“That is all we need, Ma’am,” Delia said. “I’ll start to work on the alterations right away. I shall also remove some of the bows and layers. Prince Enrique talked about a fairy-tale princess dress. That led me to believe you were younger. My mistake.”

“You’ve worked hard on the dress, Delia. The craftsmanship and quality are outstanding. I know you’ve delivered the wedding dress Prince Enrique asked for,” Jules said. “But I’m twenty-eight. Not eighteen. Anything you can do to make the gown a little more…subdued would be appreciated.”

Delia bowed her head. “I understand, ma’am.”

The woman’s empathetic tone told Jules the designer understood. Was that enough to make up for her having to wear the dress and marry an egotistical crown prince? She exhaled on a sigh.

Enrique was to be her husband. She had to make the best of the situation and the most of the opportunity. Jules straightened. “So where am I to go next?”

“The massage table, ma’am.” Yvette read from a sheet of paper. “Then you’re to have a pedicure and manicure before seeing the hairstylist and makeup artist.”

“I’ll be all made up with nowhere to go,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted and cheerful.

“You do have someplace to go, ma’am.” Yvette waved a piece paper. “I received an updated itinerary for today. You, Prince Brandt and the royal family are attending the ballet tonight.”

Jules hoped that included Alejandro. Her heart bumped. The thought of seeing him again—make that racing with him—was the only thing keeping her going right now.

Thank goodness she’d said yes to being his helmsman or she didn’t know what she would do. The memory of racing would keep her going until she had children to love.

Maybe she would get pregnant right away.

On her wedding night.

With Enrique.

The thought of being intimate with him seared her heart. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She looked up at the elaborate crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and blinked. Twice.

Jules knew better than to let her emotions show. She’d been trained from a young age to hide her true feelings. She had to be more careful or someone might discover the truth about how she felt.

Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile.

She looked at Yvette. “So, which ballet will I be seeing?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HE SUN HAD
yet to peek over the horizon. As Jules made the early morning trek to Alejandro’s boat dock, her headlamp illuminated the way through the darkness. The scent of cut grass hung in the air. The smell was new, different from the night before. Someone must have mowed yesterday. Or maybe she was paying closer attention this time.

Knowing where she was going made the walk easier. But the stillness was a little eerie. Even the insects seemed to have called it a night. If only she had gotten more sleep…

Jules yawned.

The four-hour ballet and the dessert afterward had dragged on into the wee hours of the night. She’d slept for three hours before having to wake and prepare for this practice. She felt half-asleep.

Too bad the Lilac Fairy from the ballet couldn’t lead a handsome prince to Jules. A kiss might wake her up, especially if the kiss came from a certain prince.

Alejandro.

Warmth balled in her chest.

He’d been at the ballet for the first act, long enough to slip a note about this morning’s practice into Jules’s beaded clutch. He’d left the royal family’s private box before the start of the first intermission, well before the kissing happened in act two. She’d been sad to see him go. Not for any other reason than she enjoyed his company, she decided.

Jules knew she would never be anything more than Alejandro’s sister-in-law. Anything more would be wrong. But she allowed herself the luxury of daydreaming about him until her wedding day. A guilty pleasure, yes. But a necessary one if she wanted to make it through her engagement without losing her mind.

Jules wanted to like her future husband. She wanted to fall in love with him. But he wasn’t making it easy. He’d paraded her around like a puppet bride on a string during both intermissions. Enrique didn’t want a wife; he wanted a fashion accessory.

She shivered with disgust at the way he’d showed her off and talked about her as if she weren’t there. At least he hadn’t tried to kiss her good-night.

Forget about it. Him.
She needed to focus on sailing.

But Jules couldn’t muster the same level of enthusiasm she’d felt venturing out here yesterday. Partly because of what had happened with Enrique, but also because she would be meeting the crew for the first. She wouldn’t be Julianna, but J.V., a nineteen-year-old male university student from Germany who knew enough English sailing commands to be an effective helmsman.

Jules wore the same disguise as before, but she didn’t know if she could pull off her new identity. The waist of her pants slipped down her hips. She pulled the pants up and rolled the band. Maybe that would make it fit better.

A wave of apprehension swept over her.

Alejandro thought she could do it, but the man exuded confidence. He thought he could do anything. He seemed to believe the same of her, too. Jules wished she was as certain, but all she felt were…misgivings.

At the top of the hill, she stopped.

The sun broke through the horizon casting beautiful golden rays of light through the sky. She inhaled, filling her lungs with the briny air.

Dawn brought a new day, a new beginning. This was hers. She needed to grab it with both hands.

Freedom.

Excitement shot all the way to the tips of her toes.

Alejandro needed her. Well, she needed him and
La Rueca.
Jules would do whatever she had to do until the Med Cup was over to create memories that would last a lifetime, ones she could share with her children, and she hoped, someday, with her husband.

Not even thinking about Enrique could burst the enthusiasm energizing her now. Jules wiggled her toes inside her boat shoes. She wanted to be down on the dock. She wanted to sail.

Jules removed the headlamp, switched off the power and shoved the device in her windbreaker’s pocket. She hurried down the path, eager to climb aboard
La Rueca.

Men stood on the dock and in the boat. Navy, black, red and white seemed to be the colors of choice for their clothing. Two wore baseball caps. Good, she wanted to fit in.

Still butterflies filled her stomach. She kept descending moving closer to the boat.

A few men glanced her way, gave her the once-over, but not in the way she was used to. That was okay. She didn’t want them looking at her too closely.

She studied each and every one of the faces. The crew contained a mix of nationalities and ages. But she didn’t see Alejandro with them.

Anxiety rocketed through her.

Where was he? Alejandro hadn’t mentioned not being here on his note. She couldn’t do this without him. Jules wanted to stop moving, but that would look odd. She didn’t want to make the crew suspicious. She forced one foot in front of the other.

Please be here.

A familiar head with dark hair popped up from below deck. Alejandro.

Relief washed over her. She quickened her pace to reach him—the boat—faster.

With the dark stubble on his face, he looked very much like a pirate captain and king. His smile made her breath catch in her throat. “Good morning, J.V.”

The rich, deep sound of his voice made her heart turn over.

Jules acknowledged him with a nod. The less she said, the better. She kept her hands at her sides, too. She didn’t want to wave back like a girl, or worse, a princess.

“This is J.V.,” Alejandro announced. “The one I told you about. Wait until you see him at the helm.
La Rueca
turns as if she’s sailing on rails.”

Jules straightened, pleased by his compliment. Living up to his words might be hard. What if she’d gotten lucky the other night with a perfect combination of wind and sea?

The others didn’t say anything. They eyed her warily.

Jules wasn’t offended. She understood their caution. Alejandro had given her the nod of approval, but she was an unknown quantity. She would have to earn their respect with her sailing. She only hoped she could.

“Hi,” Jules said in the deepest voice she could manage.

She shoved her bare hands in her jacket pockets. Shaking hands with anyone would be a bad idea. She’d trimmed her nails and removed the polish, but her hands still looked feminine. Maybe she needed a pair of sailing gloves.

“I’m Phillipe.” The bald man with clear, blue eyes spoke with a French accent. She recognized him from races she’d watched on television. “Tactician.”

Before she could acknowledge him, Phillipe walked away, unimpressed by her. Uh-oh. This could be interesting since they would have to work closely together.

“I’m Mike. One of the grinders.” The burly, brown-haired man, whose job was to crank the winch, sounded like an American. He yawned. “I hope all our practices aren’t going to be at the crack of dawn.”

Wanting to say as little as possible, Jules glanced at Alejandro.

“J.V. can’t miss any of his classes at the university,” he answered. “The wind is good in the morning.”

“This morning,” Mike agreed. “But these early wake-up calls are going to mess with my social life, skipper.”

“Chatting on Facebook can wait until after the Med Cup, mate.” A bleach blond with a tanned face stepped forward. Friendliness and warmth emanated from his wide smile. “I work the bow. Sam’s the name. From New Zealand. Welcome aboard, J.V.”

She smiled at him, feeling a little strange that no one could tell she wasn’t a boy. Okay, she didn’t want to be recognized, but it made her wonder. Were her features that masculine? Was that the reason her father had such a hard time marrying her off?

“Dude, I’m not talking about Facebook,” Mike said to Sam. “This girl I met at the club last night is so hot. She’s interested, too.”

Sam laughed. “In getting away from you.”

“Yeah, right. That’s why she gave me her number,” Mike countered. “I’m texting her as soon as we finish practice. Talk about an amazing rack.”

As a red-haired, Irish-sounding guy asked to see the woman’s picture, heat rushed to Jules’s cheeks. She turned her face away so no one would notice. Her brothers didn’t talk like that in front of her. Not even Brandt, who probably considered admiring “racks” a pastime.

“No pics right now, Cody. We’ll finish the rest of the introductions later,” Alejandro said. “Let’s take advantage of the wind and have J.V. show us what he can do.”

Jules swallowed around the anchor-size lump lodged in her throat. If she messed up…

No, she shouldn’t imagine making any mistakes.

The other crewmembers took their positions.

Alejandro had put his faith in her. She couldn’t let him down.

With her insides shaking, Jules boarded
La Rueca.
She removed Brandt’s sunglasses from her pocket and put them on. The dark lenses would protect her eyes from the rising sun, but also hide them.

She was a world away from the life she lived, but her training would help her today. A helmsman needed to be cool, calm, calculating. Just like a princess.

Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile.

Jules did all three. As her fingers tightened around the wheel, she widened her stance. The position felt familiar, comfortable.

“Ready?” Alejandro asked.

She would prove to the crew Alejandro hadn’t made a mistake by giving her the helm. “Ready, skipper.”

Her smile widened. She sounded like a German. Maybe she could pull this off.

Julianna had done it. Pride filled Alejandro. She’d proved her worth as a helmsman with some world-class sailing.

The three hours on the water went by faster than anyone expected. No one wanted to return to the dock. But Julianna needed to get back to the palace before anyone realized she wasn’t asleep in her bed as they thought.

Standing on the dock, Alejandro picked up a line. He glanced at the cockpit where Julianna studied one of Phillipe’s charts. With her sunglasses on top of her hat, she looked every bit a teenager. No one suspected differently. Maybe people only saw what they expected to see. The disguise made her appear younger, but nothing could hide her high cheekbones, lush lips or smooth complexion.

Alejandro could watch her all day long and never get bored.

“Skipper,” Sam called from the bow. “Toss me the line.”

Alejandro did.

“The kid’s good.” Sam hooked the end around a cleat. “Quiet, but he knows what he’s doing. The way he maneuvered around that buoy. Sweet. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense when it comes to wind shifts.”

“Told you.”

Sam nodded. “But J.V. seems a bit…soft. We need to take him out. Harden him up. Make him drink until he pukes.”

Alejandro’s muscles tensed. Having Julianna out here without a bodyguard was bad enough. Granted, he could protect her. No doubt his security detail wasn’t far away given his sneaking out of the palace hadn’t been necessary this morning. But he wouldn’t put her in harm’s way, not even for a little hazing by the crew. “J.V. is young. He lives with his overprotective family. If we have some fun with him like that, he won’t be allowed to sail with us.”

“Okay, but he’s wound pretty tight. Maybe a woman—”

“Leave the kid alone,” Alejandro interrupted. “That’s an order.”

“If you change your mind—”

“The kid’s a natural. We need to mentor J.V., not introduce him to a life of debauchery.”

“You’ve never had a problem with debauchery before.” Sam grinned knowingly. “Let me guess. The kid has a hot sister.”

Julianna was hot. Alejandro smiled.

“You dog.” Sam laughed. “I didn’t know you liked young pups.”

Alejandro didn’t. “She’s a bit older than J.V., but I’ll take what I can get.”

That was the case with Julianna until she married. Then he’d be free and she’d be with… He didn’t want to think about that.

“Okay. I’ll put my plans to corrupt the youngster on hold.” Sam winked. “Until you’ve had your fill of his sister.”

A good thing Julianna couldn’t hear them. She was huddled with Phillipe going over race strategy in German. No one knew the Frenchman was fluent. Fortunately Julianna was, too. Otherwise her cover would have been blown.

Day one had been a success. Only time would tell what the rest of the days would bring.

But Alejandro was…hopeful.

Jules walked back to the palace through the dark tunnel. The four-footed creatures running alongside her beam of light didn’t bother her. Meeting the crew and being accepted by them exhilarated her. The image of Alejandro with his eyes full of pride, a wide smile on his handsome face and the dawning sun gleaming in his hair gave her a boost of energy.

The darkness beyond her headlamp seemed to go on forever, but she didn’t care. Jules felt as if she’d already been crowned queen. The only thing she needed was a hot shower. Okay, a nap wouldn’t hurt.

She reached the staircase to her closet and climbed the steep, narrow steps to the landing.

Alejandro’s plan had worked. Relief flowed through her veins. Sailing on his crew was going to work out fine. She could race and then marry Enrique. No one would know the truth.

Jules pressed on the latch. The secret door opened. She stepped out of the dark passageway and into the closet.

She’d told Yvette not to disturb her this morning and allow her to wake up on her own. But Jules stood at the closet door and listened. No sounds. Yes! Her escape and return had gone off without a hitch.

She closed the secret door.

All she had to do was undress, hide the sailing clothes and—

The closet door opened. Yvette dropped the towel in her hand and gasped.

Stunned, Jules jumped back.

No, no, no, no, no.

Heart pounding, she lurched forward and placed her hand over Yvette’s mouth. “Shhhh. Don’t scream.”

Fear filled Yvette’s brown eyes. “Waah wuh wah ma puhsa.”

Jules struggled to comprehend the words. She hoped being in the closet would mute their voices. “I’m going to lower my hand. Do not scream. Understand?”

Yvette nodded.

Jules lowered her hand from the maid’s mouth. “What did you say?”

“Please don’t hurt my princess.”

Hurt. Princess. Yvette hadn’t recognized her. Jules could still escape.

Her relief lasted no longer than a breath. Escaping into the tunnels wasn’t an option. An investigation into the mysterious closet intruder might reveal the tunnels’ existence. Worse, she couldn’t allow Yvette to be traumatized by this.