H.R.H.

She slept most of the way to Frankfurt, and then looked out the window in silence. She was thinking of Fiona … then Parker … she called him in Boston the moment she got off the flight in Frankfurt, and told him everything that had happened, to Fiona, the border skirmishes, and the beginning of another war. He was stunned, as she sobbed.

“My God, Cricky, are you all right?” He couldn't believe what she'd told him about Fiona. She had described how they found her, and as she told him she cried all over again. She sounded completely overwrought.

“I love you,” she said over and over again, unable to stop crying. “I love you so much.” She hadn't seen him in nearly two months. It felt like centuries after everything that had happened.

“Cricky, I love you, too. I want you to go home and calm down. Rest. And as soon as you can get away, I'll meet you in Paris.”

“All right,” she said weakly, feeling as though she couldn't live another day without him. It had already been too long, and far too many terrible things had happened. He sounded as badly shaken as she was.

“Just go home, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Everything will be all right,” he reassured her, wishing he could put his arms around her. She sounded as though she were in shock.

“No, it won't,” she sobbed. “Fiona's dead, Parker. It won't ever be all right for her.”

“I know,” he said, trying to soothe her, unable to believe what had happened. It seemed impossible to believe that lively, fiery, wonderful, loving Fiona was gone. “I know. But everything will be all right for us. I'll see you in Paris very soon.” But she just cried harder knowing that it would probably be for the last time. She couldn't stand any more goodbyes or losses. She had to leave him then to catch her next flight, to Zurich. And he was worried about her. She sounded awful, and badly shaken, but who wouldn't have been, after everything she'd been through. “Can I call you at home?” he asked cautiously. She had given him the numbers before he left, but told him not to use them unless he had to. She didn't want to arouse suspicions. But this time Parker wanted to check on her. He was seriously worried about her, with good reason. She had never been so upset in her life.

“No, don't. I'll call you,” she said, sounding nervous. Everything in her mind was a jumble. Fiona was dead. Parker was in Boston forever. Her friends in Senafe were going to be in a war zone. And now she had to face her father, when she didn't even feel ready to go home. In the space of seventeen hours, she had gone from one side of the world to another, she felt like a plant that had been ripped out of the rich African soil and had been suddenly uprooted. Liechtenstein no longer felt like home to her. She felt as though she belonged in Senafe. And her heart was in Boston with Parker. She was utterly confused, and as she and Parker hung up, she couldn't stop crying. She looked at Sam and Max, and they looked nearly as unhappy as she did. They had loved it there, too, but there had been no question in their minds that morning, and they had a single-minded goal. They had to get her out.

“I'm sorry we left like that, Your Highness. We had to do our jobs this time. It was time to leave.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “It went so wrong in the end, with Fiona and the breaking of the truce, and the border skirmishes. What will happen to all those people if they have to live through another war?” It made her heart ache to think about it, they were such kind, loving people. And she missed all her friends in the camp as though they were her brothers and sisters.

“It will be very hard for them if this war really takes hold,” Max said honestly. He and Sam had talked about it at length on the flight. The UN was trying to step in, but they hadn't been able to stop it last time.

“I worry about the people in the camp, too,” Christianna added.

“They'll know when to get out. They've been through this before.” But there had been no question that she needed to get out sooner than they did. Max and Sam were both well aware that if something happened to her, it would have been disastrous. The prince would never have forgiven them, nor would they ever have forgiven themselves.

She was quiet on the last leg of the flight, from Frankfurt to Zurich. She had nothing left to say. She was so grief-stricken she was numb. The loss of her friend, the absence of the man she loved, how hopeless their situation was, no matter how much they loved each other, and being torn from the place she had come to love for the past nine months—all of it together was almost more than she could bear. And now, in spite of the joy of seeing her father again, she felt as though she were going home to prison, to be trapped in Vaduz for eternity, doing her duty to her father and their country, sacrificing herself more than ever before. She felt as though she were being punished for having been born royal. It had become, and had always been for her, an intolerable burden. She felt torn between what she had been taught she owed her ancestors, her country, and her family, and what her heart longed for, Parker, the only man she had ever loved.

The plane landed in Zurich, and her father was waiting for her at the airport. He put his arms around her, and there were tears in his eyes. He had been so desperately worried about her in those final hours. He couldn't have borne it if he had lost her. He looked gratefully at Max and Sam for getting her out before something terrible had happened. The news reports he had been following closely had gotten worse since she left Asmara.

She looked up at him, and smiled, and he could see instantly that a different person had come home. She was a woman, and not a girl anymore. She had loved and lived and worked and grown. And as it had done to others before her, the beauty of Africa and all she had learned and discovered there had crept into her very soul.

They waved her through customs in Zurich as they always did. They never even glanced at her passport. They didn't need to. They knew who she was and smiled at her. This time she looked at them and didn't smile back. She couldn't.

She got into the Rolls beside her father, with his familiar driver, and the bodyguard in the passenger seat. Sam and Max were following in another car, with two other bodyguards who were happy to see them. They weren't as devastated as Christianna was. It had been a job to them, although they had come to love it, too. And they were also sad to be back. Their old familiar world suddenly looked so different to them, just as it did to Cricky.

Cricky said little on the drive to Liechtenstein. She held her father's hand in silence and looked out the window. It was autumn and the weather was beautiful. But she missed Senafe. He knew everything that had happened, or thought he did. He knew about Fiona, and of Christianna finding her. He thought what he was seeing was her deep shock over that. He had no idea that what he was seeing was her sense of desolation over losing Parker too. Even if she hadn't completely lost him yet, she knew she would. And even if they met in Paris, there was no way they could continue doing so, without creating a scandal, like one of Freddy's, and she wouldn't do that to her father. She couldn't. She owed him more than that.

“I missed you, Papa,” she said, as she turned to look at him. He was looking at her so tenderly that she knew yet again that she couldn't break his heart by betraying everything she'd been born to. So she was offering her own heart as a sacrifice instead, and Parker's. Two hearts for one. It seemed a terrible price to pay for duty.

“I missed you, too,” her father said quietly. She held his hand, and once they reached Vaduz, she saw the familiar palace where she had grown up. But it no longer felt like coming home to her. Parker was home. Senafe was home. The people she had loved there had been home. The people in the life she had been born to had all become strangers to her in the last nine months. She had come home a different woman. And even her father knew it.

She got out of the car quietly. The servants she had grown up with were waiting for her. Charles came bounding up to her, and as he put his paws on her and licked her face, she smiled. And then she saw Freddy, waving to her from the distance. He had come from Vienna specially to see her. And in her heart of hearts, she felt nothing. The dog followed her inside, and she heard someone shut the door behind her. Freddy put his arms around her and kissed her. Charles barked. Her father smiled at her, and she smiled sadly at all of them. She wanted to be happy to see them, but she wasn't. She had been deposited in a family of strangers. Everyone who spoke to her called her Your Serene Highness. It was exactly who she didn't want to be, who she hadn't been for nine extraordinary months. She didn't want to be Christianna of Liechtenstein again. All she wanted to be was Cricky of Senafe.

Chapter 14

Once home, Christianna continued to follow news of the situation in Eritrea with intense interest. She was worried about her friends. And the situation did not sound good. There were continuing border violations, and many people had already been killed. Eritreans were starting to flee the country again, as they had before. The war was slowly getting under way, and although she hated to admit it, her father had been right to force her to come home.

Her heart still ached over Fiona. She thought constantly about the laughter they had shared, how angry Fiona had been when she found out that Christianna was a princess, and she felt that she'd been holding out on her by keeping it a secret. She thought of all the good times they'd had together, and that terrible morning when they'd found her, and how horribly she had died. Christianna could only hope that the end had come fast. But even if in seconds, she must have faced such agony and terror. It was hard to get that hideous image out of her head, of Fiona, naked, like a rag doll, lying facedown in the mud and rain, having been stabbed again and again.

In both good and bad ways, Christianna had changed forever in Eritrea. She had loved every moment of it, the people she'd met, worked and lived with, the places she had seen. It was all woven into the fiber of her being, and now she felt more like a stranger here than there. In Senafe she had been herself, the best self she had ever been. In Vaduz she had to be the one she had resisted all her life. In fact, she had to give herself up almost completely to be there. She had to surrender to duty and history. And worst of all, in order to be who she was destined to be, she had to give up the man she loved. She couldn't think of a worse fate. It felt like a living death to her every day. She loved her father and her brother, but being back in Vaduz continued to feel like a life sentence in prison to her. She had to force herself to get out of bed every day and do what was expected of her. She did it, by sheer force and selfdiscipline, but she felt as though a piece of her died every day. No one saw it, but she knew it. She was withering inside.

She and Parker wrote to each other by e-mail every day. She called him in Boston a few times once she was back, but he was afraid to call her. Christianna didn't want anyone aware of him, nor for anyone, particularly her father, brother, or security, to see his name on a message lying somewhere. E-mail was the only communication that was safe. And even there she held out no hope for the future to him. There wasn't any. And misleading him now, or harboring hopes herself, would have been too cruel. They had no hope, all they had now were memories of a golden time, and the love they shared.

She loved her exchanges with him, their laughter, even if only on screen. He told her how his work was going, and she told him about her days. Most of the time she just told him what she felt. She was more than ever in love with him, and he with her.

She attended numerous state events with her father, and two dinners in Vienna. And they went to an enormously fancy party in Monte Carlo, given by Prince Albert. It was the Red Cross Ball, which had particular meaning for her, although she had had no real desire to attend the ball. She was back in her traces again, the yoke of duty on her neck, her father's hostess in Vaduz and Vienna, and ever on his arm when they went out.

Freddy was living in Liechtenstein Palace in Vienna, and playing all over Europe. He traveled on yachts with friends, and spent a week in St. Tropez in September. As always, the paparazzi followed him, hoping to get some tidbit or scandal. Lately, he had been better than usual, but the press knew, as Christianna and her father did, that with Freddy it was only a matter of time before he was in the soup again, and being served up on a silver platter by the press. He had visited Victoria in London several times, and she was engaged again, to a rock star this time, in honor of whom she had gotten a huge heart tattooed on her chest, and dyed her hair green. Freddy loved hanging out with her. She moved in a racy crowd that suited him. And once in a while, when he had nothing else to do, he came home for a visit to Vaduz.

It unnerved him to see how mature Christianna had become, how determined her efforts to please their father. She visited the sick in hospitals and orphanages constantly, went to see old people in convalescent centers, spoke at libraries, and posed constantly for photographs. She was doing exactly what she was supposed to do, without a single word of complaint, but when he looked into her eyes on one of his visits home, what he saw there made his heart ache. Even Freddy could see the price she was paying for the life she led.

“You need to have more fun,” he told her one morning over breakfast, on a gloriously sunny day in Vaduz toward the end of September. “You're getting old before your time, my love.” She had turned twenty-four that summer, and he was about to turn thirty-four, with no sign whatsoever of his settling down or growing up.

“What do you suggest?” Christianna asked him practically.

“Why don't you go to the South of France for a couple of weeks? The sailboat races are next week. Victoria rented a house in Ramatuelle, and you know how much fun her house parties are.” It was all he could think of to suggest. And there was no question, it would have been fun. But then after that, what? Back to Vaduz again, and the weight of painful duties forevermore. Christianna was depressed about it from the moment she came home, and Freddy's well-meant but superficial suggestions didn't help. In fact, there was no real solution to the problem, except resignation and surrender. And to add fuel to the fire of her despair and loneliness, she had been obliged to give up love, of her own accord.

“I feel as though I ought to be here to help Papa. I've been away for so long.” And he enjoyed her company so much. He said it every day.

“Father can manage fine without you,” Freddy said, stretching his long, elegant legs out before him. He was an incredibly handsome young man, and women fell into his hands like grapes dropping off the vine. “He manages fine without me,” Freddy laughed, and his sister sighed. She had given up so much to be home and pick up the thread of her duties again. She wondered when he would do the same, if ever. And most of the burdens that rested on her, and were keeping her from Parker, were because her brother shouldered none at all. It was hard not to resent him for it.

“When are you going to grow up?” she asked him pointedly. Even she was getting tired of his constant partying and irresponsibility. It was tedious at their age, although previously she had forgiven him all. But his lifestyle no longer seemed as charming to her as it once had. She was shouldering his responsibilities as well as her own.

“Maybe never. Or not until I have to,” he said honestly. “What do I have to grow up for? Father is going to live for a long time. I'm not going to be reigning prince for years. I'll grow up when I am.” She didn't say it to him, but wanted to, by then it might be too late. He had developed bad habits over the years and was incredibly self-indulgent. He was the exact opposite of his extremely responsible sister. Her willingness to be there for their father enabled Freddy to be who he was, and wasn't.

“You could help Father more than you do,” she said tersely. “He has an immense burden on him constantly, worrying about the country's economy, dealing with economic and humanitarian issues, keeping our trade pacts in order with other countries. It would make life much easier for him if you took an interest in some of it.” She tried to encourage him, but as he had all his life, Freddy did nothing. He just played.

“You've gotten awfully serious while you were away,” he said, looking slightly annoyed at her. He didn't like being reminded of his duties, or called to order. His father had all but given up on it, and rarely did now. He just relied more and more on Christianna and it didn't please Freddy to be reprimanded by his younger sister, particularly if she was right. “I find that very boring,” Freddy said, with an edge to his voice.

“Maybe real life is boring,” she said, sounding older than her years. “I don't think that grown-ups have fun every day, at least not those in our particular situation. We have a responsibility to Father and the country, to set an example for people, and do what's expected of us, whether we like it or want to, or not. Remember? ‘Honor, Courage, Welfare.’ ”

It was the family code by which they lived, or were supposed to. Her father and Christianna did. It had never meant a lot to Freddy, in fact nothing at all. His honor was questionable. He was not courageous about anything. And the only welfare that had interested him so far was his own.

“When did you get so holy?” he asked her irritably. “What did they do to you in Africa?” He had recognized in recent weeks that she had changed. She was no longer the young girl she had been when she left. She was a woman now, in all senses of the word. And when he looked into her eyes, she seemed pained.

“I learned a lot of things,” she said quietly, “from some wonderful people,” those that she had worked with as well as those she had gone to help. She had fallen in love with both, and with a man she loved deeply, and had given up for her father and country. She had seen a beloved friend die, and the country erupt in war. She had seen a lot in the nine months she was gone, and had come home a different person. Freddy could see it, and wasn't sure he liked it. He was finding her ever-increasing sense of responsibility painfully annoying.

“I think you're getting a bit tedious, my darling sister,” he said with an edge to his voice. “Perhaps you need to have more fun, and spend less time trying to curb mine.” There was a tartness to his answer, as he stood up and stretched lazily. “I'm going back to Vienna today, and then I'm flying to London to see friends.” It was an endless merry-go-round with him, from one entertainment to another. She wondered how he could stand it. It was such an empty life. How many parties could one go to? How many starlets and models could one chase? While everyone else did all the work.

He left that morning after saying goodbye to her, and there was an uneasiness between them. He didn't like her criticizing him or reminding him of his duties. And she didn't enjoy watching him waste his life in constant dissipation. She was still annoyed about it, when she got an e-mail from Parker that morning. He was suggesting they meet in Paris.

Her first inclination was to say no to him, although she had promised him she would one day. The downside of it was that they would only get more attached to each other, fall more in love, and suffer even more than they already had, when they had to leave each other. And how many times could she do that? At some point, someone would recognize her, the paparazzi would come, and she would become as big a disgrace as Freddy, perhaps even worse since she was a woman, and her country's attitudes about women were so archaic, possibly the most in Europe. She hesitated for a few minutes after she read his e-mail, and then picked up the phone to call him. She was going to tell him no. But the moment she heard his voice, she melted.

“Hi, Cricky,” he said gently. “How's it going there?” She sighed, trying to know how to answer him, and decided to be honest.

“It's so hard. I just had breakfast with my brother. Some things don't change, or not much. All he does is play and party and fool around, and have fun, while my father works like a dog, and I do everything I can to help him. It's just not fair. He has no sense of responsibility at all. He's thirty-four, and acts like he's eighteen. I love him, but sometimes I get so tired of all his nonsense.” And she knew her father did, too. It put that much more responsibility on her shoulders and his as well. She felt obliged to make up for him in every way she could, and was beginning to resent him for it. She had never felt that way about it before Senafe. But she hadn't been in love with Parker then. Before she left, her brother had seemed like a charming, naughty boy who, most of the time, amused her. Now, since she was giving up so much, it was far less amusing. Parker thought she sounded tired, and sad.

“What do you think about Paris?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“I don't know,” she said honestly. “I'd love to, but I worry that we're just delaying the agony.” She didn't add the words “of pulling the plug,” which was how she saw it. There was just no other solution. At some point, she could try to talk to her father about it, but she had virtually no hope. Given how her father viewed things, a commoner in Boston, even if a respectable young doctor, was not something he would allow. He was not a prince, or even a royal. Christianna being with him violated all her father's beliefs, and hopes for her. He didn't care how many other princes and princesses in other countries were marrying commoners these days. He had no intention of mitigating his opinions or compromising. And for the moment, he had no idea Christianna was in love. And once he did, she knew her father. In the end, he would ask her to give him up, and she would have to. In her position, she could not go against the tides of a thousand years of tradition, or the deathbed wishes of her mother. The currents were just too strong, and eventually the love she shared with Parker would have to die. Realizing that again made her heart ache every time. And trying to explain it to him was worse.

“I'm just trying to keep the patient alive until we find a cure for the illness,” he said, still cherishing his hopes and dreams and love for her. He was not willing to give up, not yet at least, and hopefully never.

“There is no cure, my love,” she said softly, longing to see him. She was twenty-four years old, deeply in love with a wonderful man. It was hard to explain even to herself why she should stamp it out, for a country and a series of ancient traditions, or even for her father, or because her brother was inadequate for the throne. She felt pulled a thousand ways.

“Let's just meet in Paris,” he said gently. “We don't have to solve all the problems now. I miss you, Cricky. I want to see you.”

“I want to see you, too,” she said sadly. “I wish we could just go to Massawa for the weekend.” She smiled, remembering their weekend there. They had had so much fun. Their days in Africa together had been so much easier than these.

“I'm not sure that's the place to be right now. I've been reading about it on the Internet. The border wars are getting worse.” The Ethiopians wanted the Eritreans' ports. They always had, and had never fully accepted the terms of the truce. “I think you got out at just the right time.” Even though she hated being home, she couldn't disagree. It had been wise.

“Have you heard from anyone at the camp?” She hadn't in weeks, not since a letter from Mary Walker, and a postcard from Ushi. Neither had said much, other than that they missed her. They were guardedly waiting to see what happened, and expecting orders from Geneva. Meanwhile they were sitting tight.

“I had a card from Geoff. He didn't say much. I don't think they know anything yet. But if there's a full-scale war there again, it's going to be a mess. They'll probably have to get out, or risk some real dangers if they stay. They might join up with the UN forces at the border, but that will put them right in the line of fire. If they do that, they'll probably close the base in Senafe.” Just thinking of that made Christianna sad. She had been so happy there. And she was sadder still for the Eritreans she had come to love so much. Another war with Ethiopia would be a terrible thing for them. They had only just recovered from the last one. “Let's get back to us,” Parker called her to order. He had to go back to work. “Paris. You, me. Us …dinner, walking along the Seine, holding hands, kisses … making love … does any of that sound familiar or even enticing?” She laughed. It sounded irresistible, not just enticing. And all of it with the man she loved.

“Who can resist?” she asked with a smile in her voice.

“I hope you can't. When can you get away? What does your schedule look like?”

“I have to go to a wedding with my father in Amsterdam this weekend. The queen of Holland's niece is getting married, and my father is her godfather. But I think I'm free the following one,” she said practically, and he was laughing at her.

“You're the only woman I know, or ever will I guess, whose social calendar is taken up by kings and queens and princes. Other people have tickets to baseball games, or church socials. You, my love, are truly my fairy princess.”

“That is precisely the problem.” And he was her Prince Charming.

“Fine. I'm perfectly willing to play second fiddle to the queen of Holland. How about the weekend after?” She quickly flipped through her social calendar and nodded.

“I could do it.” She was free, and then she paused, worried. “I don't know what I'll tell my father.”

“Tell him you need to go shopping. That's always a good excuse.” It was, but she was worried her father would want to go with her. He loved taking her to Paris. And then suddenly she remembered, and her face lit up with excitement. She could do it.

“I just remembered. He's going to a sailing race in England that weekend, in Cowes. He'll be busy.” It always impressed Parker how devoted she was, and dismayed him at the same time.

“So are we on?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

She laughed and sounded young and free again, for the first time since she got home. “We're on, my love.” She felt like she had just gotten a reprieve. Three days in Paris with him. And after that, she'd live with all the burdens she had. Just three more days with him. It was like lifeblood to her. Seeing him was the air she needed to breathe.

They made their plans. And she told her secretary to make reservations at the Ritz in Paris. He was going to do the same. They couldn't risk sharing a room, in case someone squealed at the hotel. They could leave his room empty, or hers, but they had to register separately. She was grateful he had the money to do it, and was willing to.

She asked the head of security to assign Max and Samuel to her. She knew they would be discreet and leave her alone. It would be like a reunion for them after Senafe. She could hardly wait.

She left for her official duties that afternoon with a spring in her step. She was nicer than ever to the children, more patient than she'd ever been with the old people, kinder than she was usually with people who shook her hand, or gave her flowers or hugged her. And when she went out with her father to an official dinner that night, even he noticed how happy she was. He was relieved to see it. He had been worried about her. She had seemed so unhappy since she got home, even more so than before she left. He was almost beginning to regret he had ever let her go, if it had only worsened the problem, rather than curing it. She was tireless in her kindness to the people she spoke to that night, gracious, poised, patient, intelligent. She was the daughter to him he always knew she was. What he didn't know was all that she could think about now was Parker, and seeing him again. She was living for three days in Paris with him, and would have walked across burning coals to get there. Parker was the only thing keeping her going now, the strength he gave her fueled her, and the deep, heady essence of their love.

Chapter 15

Max and Samuel accompanied Christianna in the car to the airport in Zurich, and teased her about what a hardship assignment this was. They both loved traveling with her, enjoyed Paris, and it was a nice break from routine for them as well. It was almost as though the Three Musketeers were on the road again, even if not for long. They had no idea she was meeting Parker in Paris. She hadn't said anything to them. She didn't want anyone to know, not even them. She wanted no slip-ups, no mistakes. This wasn't a weekend in Qohaito, far from her father's eyes. This was very close to home for her, and she knew that one slip would bring the press on her in a minute. She and Parker were going to have to be infinitely careful and relentlessly discreet.

They arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris and were escorted through customs by the head of airport security, as they always were. A chauffeured car was waiting for her, and Max and Sam got in it with her. They no longer called her “Cricky” here, but had referred to her respectfully as “Your Highness” ever since they got home. It seemed strange to hear it from them now, but she accepted that.

One of the managers of the Ritz had already checked her in when she arrived, and she was taken to a beautiful suite looking out on the Place Vendôme. She stood impatiently, looking out at the beauty of the square, hung up a few things, ordered tea, paced nervously around the room, and then, almost like in a movie, there was a knock on her door. She opened it, and there he was, more beautiful than ever. Parker, in a blazer and slacks, open-necked blue shirt, and before she could even take a good look at him, she was in his arms. They kissed so passionately that the air nearly went out of both of them. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. They hadn't seen each other in two months. It was the end of September, and he had left at the beginning of August. She felt like a drowning person gasping for air. She was speechless with joy, when he finally pulled away a little to look at her.

“My God, you look so beautiful,” he said, overwhelmed himself. He was used to seeing her the way she looked in Senafe, with her hair in a braid, in shorts and hiking boots, without makeup or elegance. Now she was wearing a pale blue wool dress the same color as her eyes, and pearls at her neck and ears. And even high heels, she pointed out. And they didn't have to worry about snakes, he teased.

Everything about seeing each other was perfect. She had planned to go for a walk with him, or stop at a small café on the Left Bank. He had had the same idea, and instead they were in bed, tightly in each other's arms within minutes. They were like starving people who needed to be fed before they could do anything else. And their passion for each other had only increased in the two months they hadn't seen each other.

Afterward they lay sated and comfortable on the impeccably pressed sheets of her bed at the Ritz, looking up at the splendid details of the ceiling, and then back into each other's eyes. She couldn't stop kissing him, and he couldn't keep himself from holding her close. It was late afternoon before they finally got up, and shared a bath in the suite's huge bathtub. Being together was almost like a drug to which they had both become addicted, and now could not live without.

They finally made it out of the room, and walked first around the Place Vendôme and then around the Left Bank. Sam and Max had been stunned and delighted when they saw him, and then realized what the weekend was about. They kept a discreet distance and followed the young lovers as they walked and talked for hours. It was as though they had never been apart. They talked about the same topics they used to, he told her about his research project, she told him what she'd been doing in Vaduz. They talked about their time in Senafe, the people they had come to love there, their concerns for the laughing, generous Eritrean people. Neither of them mentioned Fiona, because it was just too sad. This was meant to be a happy time for them, and it was.

They had coffee at the Deux Magots, talked some more, and then went across the street to the church of St. Germain des Prés, lit candles, and prayed. Christianna lit her candles for the people of Eritrea and Senafe, for Fiona, and one for them as well, hoping that somehow they would find a solution to their problem, that maybe by some miracle her father would be reasonable and allow them to pursue their love. She knew it would take a miracle for that to happen. She was relieved to know that Parker was also Catholic, because that would have been a stumbling block to her father, and a big one, probably insurmountable. At least that was one obstacle they didn't have to deal with. They had so many others to worry about, fortunately religion wasn't one of them. The throne of Liechtenstein had been Catholic since the sixteenth century, and her father was profoundly devout about their faith.

They went back to the hotel afterward, and had to delay dinner when they made love again. It was ninethirty by the time Christianna was dressed in a white pantsuit and sweater she had bought the year before at Dior. She looked like a little angel, as she left the hotel again on his arm. Sam and Max were waiting outside with the car.

They drove until they found a bistro, and then sat there for hours, talking some more. They were tireless in their interest in each other, their passion for each other's projects, their concern for each other's well-being. It was a constant exchange of information between them, of laughter, jokes, and topics that fascinated them both. She particularly liked hearing about his AIDS project, since she had become knowledgeable about it in Senafe, and now it was dear to her heart, just as he was, and everything he touched.

“And what about you, sweetheart? How's the ribbon business going?” They had come to call it that once she explained to him what it was.

“I'm doing a lot of it these days. It makes my father happy, and the people I do it for. It makes them feel important if I open their buildings for them, or whatever they want.” It was strange even to her to realize that it made a difference to them, that her presence cutting a ribbon, or saying a few words, shaking a hand, or gently touching a head, could make them feel as though they had shared in her grace and magic for a minute, and were somehow different as a result. It was something she had talked to him about at length by e-mail, the strangeness of being a person who was admired and sought out, without their truly knowing her, or if she was in fact worthy of the respect and admiration they gave her, simply because of who she had been born. It seemed magical to him as well, the fairy princess who blesses the people with her magic wand, casting a happy spell on them. She laughed when he said that to her, wishing she could do as much for herself and Parker. But in many ways, life had. Seeing him again was an enormous blessing in which they both shared. And sharing that blessing gave them more to share with others. In the warmth of Parker's love, Christianna felt she could do anything, and he said he felt the same way about her. The only problem they had, and it was an enormous one, was that they were living on stolen moments.

They fell asleep in each other's arms that night, like sleeping children, after they made love again. They couldn't get enough of each other, their thirst for each other's bodies and souls was bottomless and never quenched, or at least not for long. They had two months to catch up on, and the next morning Christianna teased him that they couldn't make up for all of it in one weekend.

“Then give me a lifetime,” Parker said, looking serious, as she lay in bed beside him.

“I wish I could,” she said, looking sad again. She hated thinking about how hopeless their situation was. Unless she was willing to walk away from her responsibilities and break her father's heart, she simply had no choice. “If it were in my power to say so, I would be yours. I am yours, in all the ways that matter.” Save one. She could not agree to marry him, and probably never could because she knew without a doubt that her father wouldn't give his consent, and she didn't want to marry Parker without that. Breaking every belief and tradition she'd been brought up to respect seemed the wrong way to start. And Parker wanted to marry her more than anything in life. He had been in love with her for seven months, and it already seemed like a lifetime to him. He wanted more now, and so did she. They promised each other to try not to think about it that day, and enjoy the time they had. He was going back to Boston, and she was flying back to Zurich on Monday night.

They spent Saturday walking along the Seine, looking at the bookstalls, playing with the puppies in the pet shops, taking a Bâteau Mouche for the fun of it, and having lunch at the Café Flore. She felt as though they had walked all over the Left Bank, into antique shops and galleries, before they let Sam and Max drive them back to the Right Bank across the Pont Alexandre III. They drove past the Louvre in all its splendor and talked about what it must have been like when it was a palace. She smiled and said that her mother had been both a Bourbon and descended from the house of Orléans. She was a Royal Highness, not a Serene one, on both sides. She explained to Parker that in order to be a “Royal” Highness, one must be directly descended from kings, which her mother was. Her father's lineage descended from princes, so he was Serene. For Parker, unfamiliar with all the royal traditions she had grown up with, it was heady stuff, in fact, a little dizzying, and so was she for him. It was the first time he had ever seen her passport, with only her Christian name.

“And that's it? No last name?” It seemed funny to him, and she smiled.

“That's it. Just Christianna of Liechtenstein. All royals have passports like that, with no surname at all. Even the queen of England, her passport just says ‘Elizabeth,’ and in her case it is followed by an R, for Regina, because she is the queen.”

“I guess Princess Christianna Williams would sound a little strange,” he said apologetically with a rueful grin.

“Not to me,” she said softly, as he kissed her again.

On their way into the hotel, they stopped at the Bar du Ritz for a drink. They were both thirsty and tired, but had had a wonderful day. Parker ordered a glass of wine, and Christianna a cup of tea. He had learned in Senafe that she almost never drank. She didn't like it, and only did so at state occasions, when she felt obliged to toast someone with champagne. Otherwise she had no great fondness for alcohol. And Parker always told her she ate like a bird. She was tiny, and had a slim but womanly figure, which he found irresistibly sexy, as he had proven often.

There was a man playing the piano at the bar of the Ritz, and as they sat there enjoying it, Christianna laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” Parker asked her with a happy smile. All he wanted was for their weekend in Paris to last forever, and so did she. They were totally in agreement on that concept.

“I was just thinking how civilized this is compared to Senafe. Imagine if we'd had a piano in the dining tent.” It was after all where their romance began.

“It might have been a very nice touch,” he laughed along with her.

“God, I miss it. Don't you?” she said longingly, with her love for Africa in her eyes.

“I do, but also because I could wake up every morning and see you, and end the day seeing you. But I have to admit that other than that, my work has been really interesting at Harvard,” more so than it had been in Senafe, although he had loved the patients he saw there. In Boston he saw no patients, but was only coordinating research. He mentioned that he had had a letter from the Dutchman who was the head of the team he'd traveled with from Doctors Without Borders. Christianna said that she admired their work tremendously, and so did Parker.

“If I were a doctor, I would do that,” she said, and he smiled at her.

“I know you would.”

“I wish I could dedicate my life to helping people, as you do. The things I do for my father seem so stupid. The ribbon business. It means nothing, to anyone,” least of all to her.

“I'm sure it means something to them,” he said gently.

“It shouldn't. I'm nothing more than a hospitality committee. My father does the real work, he makes economic decisions that affect the country positively, or negatively if he makes the wrong decision, although usually he makes the right ones.” She smiled loyally. “He makes humanitarian efforts, he makes things better for people. He takes his responsibilities so seriously.”

“So do you.” Parker was extremely impressed by that about her.

“It makes no difference. Cutting a ribbon will never change anyone's life.” She wanted to start working at the foundation that winter, but hadn't had time yet. Her father was keeping her too busy making state appearances for him, many of which were things Freddy should have been doing, but never did. In some instances, Christianna was carrying the ball for all three of them. At least if she started work at the foundation, she would feel she was doing something useful. But going to state dinners, and all her other minor duties seemed meaningless to her. And for that, she was having to give Parker up. It seemed inordinately cruel to her, just so she could be a princess, obey her father, and serve the people of Liechtenstein.

“Does your brother do anything?” Parker asked cautiously. He knew it was a sore subject with her.

“Not if he can help it. He says he will wait to grow up until he is the reigning prince, and that could be a long time from now. I hope it will be.” Parker nodded. Her brother sounded like a scoundrel and a black sheep, but he didn't say it to her.

Eventually, they went upstairs to change for dinner, but never made it out the door of their room. They wound up making love again, sitting in the bathtub together afterward, and ordering room service. And they fell asleep in each other's arms again. It was the perfect weekend.

The next day they went to mass at Sacre Coeur, and listened to a choir of nuns sing. It was a beautiful day, and they walked in the Bois de Boulogne, and smiled at people kissing and walking their babies and dogs. It was a perfect day. They went for ice cream, stopped for coffee, and finally, relaxed and happy, they drove back to the Place Vendôme, and walked into the Ritz. She had asked the concierge to make dinner reservations at Le Voltaire, which was her favorite small, chic restaurant in Paris. They had few tables, a cozy atmosphere, great service, and fabulous food.

At nine o'clock they left the hotel, dressed for dinner and in high spirits. Christianna was wearing a very pretty pale blue Chanel suit, with high heels and diamond earrings. She loved dressing up for him, although it was certainly different than when they had been in Senafe. And he loved how elegant she was now.

As they walked out of the lobby, he put his arm around her as soon as they came out of the revolving door. The air was balmy, and she was smiling at him lovingly—when suddenly like a rocket explosion there was a flash of lights in her face. She didn't even have time to register what it was and they ran to the waiting car, followed by a trail of paparazzi. Parker looked stunned, and Christianna instantly unhappy when Max whisked them away.

“Go! Go! Go!” Max told the driver, as Sam hopped in next to them in back, and within seconds they sped off but not before two more photographers got them.

“Damn!” Christianna said, looking at Max in the front seat. “How did that happen? Do you suppose someone called them?”

“I think it was an accident,” he said apologetically. “I almost warned you, but you came out too fast. Madonna walked out of the hotel just before you did. She's staying at the hotel, too, and they were waiting for her. I think you were just a bonus.” But they had obviously recognized her the moment she came out of the hotel, and they had caught her smiling adoringly up at Parker, with his arm around her. There was no mistaking what this was, or that it was a romance. “We'll go in the back way later.”

“It's a little late for that,” she said tersely, and looked at Parker, who was still stunned. He hadn't even had time to react yet, and his eyes still had spots in front of them from the strobes. There was no doubt in Christianna's mind that the photographs would turn up somewhere. They always did. At an inopportune time when it was embarrassing, or at the very least awkward. And if her father saw them, which he would if they came out, he was not going to like it. Particularly her lying that this was a shopping trip. And he didn't like her making a spectacle of herself in the press. They had enough of that with Freddy.

Christianna was quiet on the way to the restaurant, and Parker was sorry to see her upset. He tried to console her, and she was a good sport about it, but it was obvious that she was worried. “I'm sorry, baby.”

“Me, too. We didn't need that headache. It was so nice while no one knew.” And essential.

“Maybe they won't use them,” he said, trying to sound hopeful.

“They will. They always do,” she said sadly. “My brother makes such an ass of himself all the time that they always try to tar me with the same brush. The shocking Liechtenstein prince and princess. They love saying things about royals. And I'm so careful to stay out of the press that they always get excited when they see me.”

“It was rotten luck that they were waiting for Madonna.” She agreed with Max that he should have warned her, but he explained that she must have already left the room when he saw them, because she was out the door within seconds, and Madonna had just sped off in a limousine with her children.

She tried not to let it spoil dinner for them, but Parker could see that she was distracted and worried. They enjoyed it anyway, but it put a damper on the evening. She was worried sick about what her father would say when he saw the press, and once he saw Parker. It opened a whole can of worms she didn't want to have to deal with yet, and had taken the timing right out of her hands. But she was helpless to change it.

They went in through the service entrance of the Ritz, on the rue Cambon. It was the same entrance Princess Diana had used when she stayed at the hotel. Many celebrities and royals came in the back entrance, and rode up in the tiny elevator, to avoid the paparazzi waiting for them out front. And then finally they were back in the safety of her room, and she relaxed again in his arms. They made love again that night, and there was a bittersweet feeling to it. She was so afraid that the photographs that had been taken would be used to force her hand with Parker. Once her father knew, she would be entirely at his mercy, which was the last thing she wanted.

Still worrying about it, she slept fitfully that night, and woke up several times with nightmares. Parker comforted her as best he could, and they were both quiet over breakfast the next morning, as the roomservice waiter poured their coffee. They waited until he left the room to discuss it further. Christianna trusted no one now. She had been shaken by the paparazzi attack the night before. She dreaded discussing it with her father, if it actually hit the press.

“Sweetheart, there's nothing you can do about it,” Parker said sensibly. “It happened. It's over. We'll deal with it if it comes out,” he said calmly, sipping the hot coffee.

“No, we won't deal with it, if it comes out,” she said, sounding strained and unhappy. She was tired after sleeping badly the night before, and obviously worried. “If it happens, I'll deal with it. And so will my father. I'll be dealing with him alone. I didn't want that to happen to us, until we were ready. Because I'll get one shot at this, to convince my father about us. He won't let me discuss it with him twice. And the way to start that conversation wasn't with a lie. I lied to him about coming to Paris.” But as always, she'd had no other choice. Her range of options was always narrow, and limited at best. “I just don't like it. Being exposed in the press is so tacky and unpleasant.” She had an aversion to that, unlike her brother, or perhaps because of him, and his frequent scandals, she was even more sensitive about it.

“Yes, it is.” He didn't disagree with her, nor did he react to anything she'd said. “But all we can do is make the best of it. What other choice do we have?”

“None.” She sighed, and drank her coffee, and made an effort not to beat him up about it. It wasn't his fault, but it was causing her grave concern, and he could see it.

After breakfast, they dressed and went out. They wandered down the Faubourg St. Honoré to look at the shops, and then went to L'Avenue for lunch. She relaxed finally and was relieved to see that no one had followed them. Max and Sam stayed close, and they continued to have Christianna and Parker use the back entrance of the hotel on the rue Cambon to go in and out. It was safer and more prudent.

After lunch, they went back to the hotel. They both packed, and then curled up on the bed. They had both booked the latest flights they could, so that they would have as much time together as possible. They didn't want to lose a minute with each other, or even less a lifetime, thanks to the paparazzi. Although she knew that her chances of convincing her father were slim to none, she didn't want anything to tip that balance further, and scandalous press in the tabloids would almost certainly do that.

They lay on the bed together for a long time, and eventually they made love for the last time, gently, slowly, tenderly, savoring their final moments together. And afterward she lay in his arms and cried. She was so afraid now that she would never be able to see him again. She wanted everything they'd had before, in Senafe, and all they had now were these tiny borrowed moments whenever they could find them. He made her promise that they would come to Paris again, whenever she could get away. He said he would arrange his schedule around her at a moment's notice. As a research doctor, and not one who saw patients regularly, he had more freedom to do that. She didn't know yet what effect the paparazzi's photographs would have, if any. She said they needed to lie low for a while and wait to see what happened. Hopefully, nothing. But that seemed too much to ask. If so, they had been lucky.

They got out of bed finally, showered together, and dressed. He had never used his room once during the entire weekend, but it had given them respectability, and he was perfectly happy to pay for it, even if for nothing. Especially if it made things better for her. Parker wanted to do everything possible to make this work. She was more familiar with the situation than he was, and the restrictions on her, so he was more than willing to play by her rules, or her father's. He was truly in love with her, and more than life itself, he wanted to see her again, and, if they were incredibly lucky and blessed, marry her one day. She said it was impossible, but he was willing to hang around and wait. She was the only woman he had loved that way. And she was just as in love with him.

They kissed long and hard before they left the room, and then left the hotel together through the back door. Max and Sam took care of all the necessary arrangements. They were driving to the airport in the same car, as their flights were almost at the same time, hers to Zurich, and his to Boston. And then finally, their last moments came. She kissed him before they left the car, and then only stood looking at him sadly in the airport. She could not kiss him there, and he understood that. It was the burden of who she was, which he now fully accepted.

“I love you,” she said, standing two feet away from him and facing him. “Thank you for a wonderful weekend,” she said politely, and he smiled. She was always gracious and polite, even when she was worried, like after the paparazzi.

“I love you too, Cricky. Everything's going to be all right. Try not to worry too much about the paparazzi.” She nodded and said nothing. And then, unable to stop herself, she reached out and touched his hand, and he held it. “It's going to be all right,” he told her in a whisper. “I'll see you soon, all right?”

She nodded, with tears in her eyes. She mouthed the words I love you again, and almost as though she had to tear herself away from him, she walked slowly to her plane, with Max and Sam carrying her bags, and Parker picked up his and went to check in for his flight. He turned to look at her as she walked away. She turned and smiled bravely at him, with one hand raised for him, and then touched her heart, as from across the airport and the worlds that separated them, he touched his.

Chapter 16

Christianna had a busy week after she went back to Vaduz. She had a series of official engagements and appearances, and her father gave two dinner parties in Vaduz back to back on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. It was Thursday morning, as she dressed for an official lunch her father had asked her to attend, that her secretary walked in, and without a word handed her the British Daily Mirror. Until then, she and Parker had e-mailed each other constantly, and been reassured that nothing had turned up in the press. And now here it was. The British got it first. And they had a field day with it. They always did.

The headlines were glaring, and the photograph showed her beaming up at Parker, looking ecstatic and blissful, as he smiled down at her with an arm around her. It was instantly obvious that they were either madly in love, lovers, or both. She always felt stupid when she looked at photographs of herself on the front page. And normally, they were not in a romantic context. That had only happened to her once, and never again, and she had been very young. She had been extremely cautious since then. Except this one time with Parker, when it mattered so much, and she had walked right into them on the heels of Madonna. It was such rotten luck. She stared at it with a look of devastation.

The headline was succinct, and fortunately not seamy, although it might have been. But even what it said was not what she wanted said about them. “Hot new Romance in Liechtenstein: Princess Christianna …and who is her Prince Charming?” The text said that they had been seen leaving the Ritz Hotel in Paris, presumably during a romantic weekend. It commented that they made a handsome pair. And then it referred to the fact that her brother's romances were legion, and usually his sister's doings were more discreet, so this must be the The Big One. She could just imagine her father's face when he read it.

She quickly e-mailed Parker to give him a heads-up. She told him what newspaper and that it had made the front page. He could look it up on the Internet. That was all she said. She was in too big a hurry to say more, and rushed off to the official luncheon given by her father. As she would have expected, he said nothing about it during lunch. It wasn't her father's style to drop hints or do things by half measures. He preferred to confront things head-on, just as he did with her brother.

It was only after their guests had left the palace that he asked her if she could spare a few minutes of her time, and she knew what was coming. It had to be. She couldn't appear on the front page of a London newspaper, with a man he'd never heard of, caught during a romantic tryst, and have him choose to ignore it. That would be too much to ask.

She followed him to his private sitting room and waited till he sat down, and then she did the same. He glanced at her for a long moment with a look of displeasure mixed with grief. For an interminable amount of time, he said absolutely nothing and neither did Christianna. She wasn't going to bring the subject up, in case by some miracle she got a reprieve and this was about something else, but of course it wasn't. He finally began.

“Christianna, I suppose you know what I want to talk to you about.” She tried to look expectant, innocent, and blank, but failed abysmally. She could feel guilt creep all over her face, and finally she nodded.

“I think I do,” she said in barely more than a whisper. Her father was always kind to her, but he was nonetheless the reigning prince and could have a daunting way about him, when he chose to. And after all, he was her father, and she hated to incur his wrath, or even his displeasure.

“I assume you saw the photograph in the Daily Mirror this morning. I'll admit the photograph is lovely of you, but I was somewhat curious about the identity of the gentleman beside you. I didn't recognize him.” So clearly he was not a royal, since her father knew them all. He somehow implied, without ever saying it, that it must have been a tennis teacher or something of the kind. “And you know, I'm not terribly fond of reading about my children in the press. We get an opportunity to do quite a lot of that with your brother. I don't usually recognize any of his friends either.” It was a slam at Parker, suggesting that he was the male equivalent of the kind of lowlife Freddy went out with, which was not the case. Parker was educated and decent, a doctor, and from a nice family. All the women Freddy went out with were actresses, models, or worse.

“It's not at all like that, Papa,” Christianna said, trying to sound calm, but feeling panicked. They were not off to a great start. She knew her father, and he was not at all pleased. “He's a lovely man.”

“I hope so, if their report is accurate and you spent the weekend at the Ritz with him. May I remind you that you told me you were going there just to go shopping?” His eyes were filled with reproach and displeasure.

“I'm sorry, Papa. I'm sorry I lied to you.” She figured that abject apology was the only way to go, and she was ready to grovel if he would allow her to see Parker. “It was wrong of me, I know.”

He smiled gently at that. “You must really love this man, Cricky, if you're willing to eat that much crow.” And it hadn't escaped him either that they looked ecstatic together, which was why he was so worried. “All right, let's get this over with. Who is he?”

She paused for breath for a long time. She was terrified she wouldn't do it right. And their whole future rested on whether or not she did. It was an awesome burden.

“We worked together in Senafe, Papa. He's a doctor, doing AIDS research at Harvard. He was with Doctors Without Borders, and then continued his research with us at the camp. Now he's back at Harvard. He's Catholic, from a solid family, and he's never been married.” It was all she could think of to say at one gulp, but the data she offered her father was respectable at least, and painted a decent portrait of Parker.

The nature of the information she gave him was all he needed to know, particularly the fact that he was Catholic and had never been married. His heart sank. “And you're in love with him?” This time she didn't hesitate. She nodded. “Is he American?” She nodded again. It answered his most important question. He was an American commoner, and not suited to a princess, the daughter of a reigning prince, for anything other than as an acquaintance.

“Papa, he's a really lovely man. He comes from a good family. Both his father and brother are doctors. They come from San Francisco.” He didn't care if they came from the moon by rocket ship. He had no title. It was an entirely unsuitable match for her, in his opinion. And he knew the Family Court and members of Parliament would agree with him, although he could have overruled them, if he wished. And Christianna knew that, too. She also knew that he would never use his powers to allow her to marry a commoner. It went against everything he believed.

“You know you can't do that,” he told her gently. “You'll only make yourself, and him, miserable if you continue to see him. You'll wind up with a broken heart, and so will he. He's a commoner, Christianna. He has no title. He's not even European. It's out of the question, if you're asking me what I think you are.” His face was rigid, and she was already in tears.

“Then let me just see him. I won't marry him. We could meet from time to time. I promise I'll be discreet.”

“I assume you were discreet this weekend, in Paris, unless you're even more foolish than you've been, and I don't think you are. And the press still discovered you, and look at what it looks like. A Serene Highness having assignations with men in hotel rooms. That's not very pretty.”

“Papa, I love him,” she said with tears running down her cheeks.

“I'm sure you do, Cricky,” he said gently. “I know you well enough, I think, to believe you wouldn't do this lightly. Which makes this even more dangerous for you. You cannot marry him, ever, so why would you carry on a romance that will only break your heart and his? It isn't even fair to him. He deserves to be in love with someone he can marry. And you're not that person. One day, when you marry, it will have to be a person of royal birth. It's in our constitution. And the Family Court would never in a hundred years approve him.”

“They would if you told them to. You can overrule them.” They both knew he could. “Other princes and princesses all over Europe marry commoners these days. Even crown princes. It happens everywhere, Papa. We're a dying breed, and if we find the right person, even if not of royal birth, wouldn't you rather have me marry a good man, who loves me and will be kind to me, than a bad one who happens to be a prince? Look at Freddy,” she threw at him, and he winced. “Would you want me to marry a man like him?” Her father shook his head. That was a whole other subject, but she was using everything she could, knowing full well how much Freddy upset him.

“Your brother is a special case. And of course I want you to marry a good man. But not all princes are derelicts like Friedrich. He may grow up one day, but I'll confess, if you came home with a man with his habits, I would lock you up in a convent. And Christianna, I'm not going to do that here. I'm sure this young man is honorable and everything you say. But he is not eligible for your hand, and he will never be. I don't want you seen in public with him again. And if you do love him, I strongly advise you to end it with him before it gets worse. Both of you will only get hurt. As long as I'm alive, it will go nowhere. If you're lonely and unhappy here, we'll start looking around for a husband for you, a suitable one. But Christianna, this one isn't. You may not see him again.” For the first time in her entire life, she actually hated her father. She was sobbing when she answered him, and she had never seen him so cruel. As kind as he had been to her all her life, he was now denying her the only thing she really wanted, a life with the man she loved, and his approval. And he had refused.

“Papa, please … this isn't the fourteenth century. Can't you be more modern about this? Everyone talks about what a creative, modern ruler you are. Why can't you let me be with a commoner, even marry him someday? I don't care if my children have titles, or are commoners. I'll even give up mine if you wish. I'm not in line for the succession. I could never reign here, even if Freddy didn't. So why does it matter who I marry? I don't care if I'm a princess, Papa, or marry a prince,” she said, engulfed in sobs, as he looked at her miserably.

“But I do. We cannot ignore our own traditions, or our constitution, whenever it's convenient. That's what duty and honor are about. You must do your duty, even when it hurts, even when it means you must make sacrifices. That's why we're here, to lead the people and protect them and show them by our example what we expect of them, and what's the right thing to do.” He was a purist and an idealist, for her and himself, bound by history and tradition. He made no exceptions to the rules, even for himself.

“That's your job, Papa, not mine. They don't care who I marry, and neither should you, as long as he's a good man.”

“I want you to have a good prince.”

“I don't. I swear, I will never marry if you do this.” He looked anguished as he responded. She loved this young American even more than he had feared.

“That would be a grave mistake. For you, even more than for me. If he loves you, he shouldn't want you to violate your heritage, out of respect for you. You need to marry someone from your own world, who understands your duties, traditions, and obligations, who has led the same life as you, someone of royal birth, Christianna. A commoner would never respect your life. It would never work. Trust me on this.”

“He's American, it makes no sense to him. Nor does it to me. This is completely stupid, and cruel.” She disagreed with everything he had said, and knew Parker would have too. She was fighting a thousand years of tradition, to no avail.

“You're not American. You know better than to do something like this. You're my daughter and you know what's expected of you. If this is what happened when you went to Africa, I am very sorry I allowed you to go. You have violated my trust.” It was everything she had told Parker, and all she had feared her father would say. In fact, it was worse.

He was completely intransigent and inflexible, living in another century, determined to follow tradition and the constitution and make no exception out of compassion for her. He was not even giving her a ray of hope. And worse, he was totally convinced that he was right. She knew he would never relent. She felt as though his words had broken her heart. She was almost in physical pain as she looked at her father in despair, and he looked at her in sorrow. He hated to cause her pain, but he felt he had no choice.

“I want you to stop seeing this man,” he said finally. “How you end it is up to you. I will not interfere, out of respect for you. And he has done nothing wrong, so far. You were both foolish to go to Paris, and expose yourselves. You saw what happened, they caught you immediately. You must end it, Cricky, as soon as possible, for both your sakes. I leave the rest up to you.” With that, he stood up and turned away. He did not come to put his arms around her because he knew how devastated and angry she was, and it seemed wiser to wait. She needed time to accept everything he had said, to make her peace with it, and tell this man. All he wanted and all he hoped now was that she would forgive him one day. But he was doing what he was convinced was right for her.

She stood up and looked at him in disbelief. She couldn't believe he was willing to do this to her. But he was. He felt it his duty, and had pointed out hers to her. And then, still crying, she turned and left the room without another word. There was nothing left to say.

When she returned to her apartment in the palace, she told her secretary to cancel her appointments and appearances for the rest of the day, the rest of the week in fact. She closed her bedroom door then, and called Parker in the States. He answered instantly, and had been waiting to hear from her. He had suspected that since the photograph had hit the newspapers, she would be talking to her father about it, and he would have something to say. Christianna was sobbing when he answered the phone. It didn't bode well for what her father had said to her.

“It's all right,” he said soothingly, “it's all right. Calm down.” She tried and failed miserably and finally caught her breath long enough to tell him in halting words what her father had said.

“He said we have to stop seeing each other immediately.” She sounded beaten, frightened, and like a child again, and all he wanted was to put his arms around her and console her and give her strength.

“And what do you say?” he asked, sounding anxious. He had been afraid of this. She had warned him of it since Senafe. And she was right. It was hard to believe that people in this century could take such an archaic position, but apparently her father had. The entire concept of Serene and Royal Highnesses was archaic. But she was in fact a princess, and like it or not, she had to deal with it. And so did he, and her father's insistence that she only marry a man of royal blood.

“I don't know what to say. I love you. But what can I do? He totally forbade me to pursue this with you. He said he'll never let us marry, and I know he means it. He would have to override the parliament and the Family Court to allow us to marry, and he won't.” And she felt wrong just running away. She couldn't do that. She wanted his permission. Parker believed it now, too, and he was as devastated as she was. To him, this was insane. It made no sense. For a moment, he thought of suggesting that they meet in secret until her father died, and once her brother ruled the country, she could sneak away. But realistically, Hans Josef could live another twenty or thirty years, and it would be no life for them. Her father had completely boxed her in, and him with her.

“Will you meet me again for a weekend?” There was a long pause while she thought about it. “I want to discuss this with you in person. Maybe we can figure out something.” Although he had to admit now that it was unlikely he could come up with a solution that she could live with, and that would be acceptable to her father. She was not willing to just walk and defy him, although perhaps in time she would be. He also knew that the promise made to her mother mattered to her, as well as the approval of the parliament and Family Court. In order to marry Parker, she had to be willing to defy them all. He knew it was a lot to ask. And he was thinking of talking to her father himself, if Christianna was willing, and if the prince would see him. Other than that, he had no suggestions for right now. He just wished he could put his arms around her, and so did she. This was so much harder than he had hoped it would be. All her fears had been right.

“I'll try,” she answered finally about the weekend. “I don't know when I can. I'll have to lie again. And we can't do this often.” In truth, she suspected that if she met him again, it would be the last time she ever saw him. She could not hide from her father forever, and the paparazzi would never let her, no matter how careful they were. But she wanted to see him one more time. Even if only that, and she was not going to ask her father permission to do so. She was sure he wouldn't even grant her that. So she did not intend to ask. “I'll see when I can get away. It may not be for a while. I have a feeling he's going to watch me closely. We'll just have to e-mail and use the phone for a while.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he said calmly. He was trying to sound calmer for her than he felt. He was completely panicked. Thanks to the archaic traditions of her father and country, he was going to lose her. Her father was breaking both their hearts. “I love you, Cricky. We'll see what we can come up with.”

“I told him I would never marry,” she said, sobbing again, and his heart went out to her. Her pain was as great as his, perhaps greater, because she felt betrayed by someone she loved.

“Let's both calm down before you become the virgin princess in the tower. Maybe if we're stubborn enough over time, we'll wear him down. What if I go to talk to him?” Parker suggested cautiously.

“You don't know him,” she said somberly. “He won't see you, and we won't wear him down. He believes in what he's doing.” She sounded lighthearted for a moment then, and giggled. “And by the way, I'm not a virgin.”

“I won't tell if you don't,” he laughed. He wasn't willing to give up on her yet, in spite of her father. It seemed a lot to ask her to run away with him and abandon everything, and he didn't think she would. She had far too great a sense of duty to defy her father and the traditions and constitution of her country. To her it seemed almost like treason. She wanted to win her father over, and convince him. And even Parker was coming to believe it was hopeless. And she had a strong distaste for scandal because of her brother. But Parker was determined to find a way. There had to be one. He refused to be defeated. He asked her to call him back in a few hours, just to talk, and told her to try and calm down. She felt better after talking to him, he was so solidly there for her, and such a good person. But she still couldn't see a way to improve their situation. She knew her father would never relent. She wanted to see Parker one more time, and then she suspected she had to do as she was told, and say goodbye to him. It truly broke her heart.

Christianna remained locked up in her apartment for five days. She opened the door to no one save her secretary once a day, when she accepted a small amount of food on a tray. She called Parker and e-mailed him. She took no calls, she went nowhere. And she had no contact whatsoever with her father. He inquired about her many times a day, and was always told the same thing, that she hadn't come out of her apartment. He was grief-stricken, but just as she had no choice in the face of his rigid disapproval, he felt he had no choice either, given the traditions he was bound to uphold, and even the promise he had made her mother. They were trapped in a piece of history, both of them, however painful. And Parker along with them, with disastrous results for all. But no matter how agonizing, there was still no way out, for now.

In despair one night, Christianna called her cousin Victoria in London. She was in high spirits, her new fiancé was there, and she sounded as though she'd been drinking, which was typical. So she was very little help to Christianna in her plight.

“Darling, I saw you in the paper … my Gawd, that man you were with is so handsome, why didn't you tell me? Where did you find him?”

“In Senafe,” Christianna said dully. She was feeling awful, which was why she'd called. Facing the reality of her situation, she had cried for hours, and had called Victoria for comfort, which she was not very good at. She was too busy having fun to focus on anything else.

“Where?” Victoria sounded blank.

“In Africa. He was one of the doctors there.”

“How sexy! Is your father having a fit?”

“Yes, he is,” Christianna said miserably, foolishly hoping for some advice.

“Obviously, darling. He's so hopelessly uptight and old-fashioned. Just think how lucky he is not to have a daughter like me. But then again,” she said whimsically, “he has Freddy. I suppose that's punishment enough, although I love the boy. He was here last night.” Christianna had thought he was in Vienna, but hadn't talked to him in days, not since before her weekend in Paris.

“Papa says I have to end it, and I can never marry him because he doesn't have a title.”

“How stupid. Why doesn't he just give him one? He could, you know. They do it all the time here, for the silliest of reasons. Well, not really, I suppose … but they could. I heard about an American who bought the title because he bought someone's house.”

“My father doesn't do things like that. He ordered me to end it.”

“What a nasty thing to do. I'll tell you what, why don't you meet him in secret here? I won't tell a soul.” Except her drug dealer, her maid, her hairdresser, her ten best friends, her new fiancé the rock star, and probably even Freddy, some night when they got drunk together, which they apparently did often. Christianna liked the idea but knew it would never work. And if she became one of Victoria's permanent coterie, her father would have Christianna locked up. Victoria seemed to be getting worse, and constantly more outrageous. Christianna was never entirely sure if it was her personality or drugs. Even her father had commented since Christianna got home that from all he heard, Victoria seemed to be completely over the top and he thought Cricky should steer clear of her. Freddy, of course, loved her entire scene.

In the end, talking to Victoria gave her nothing, not even comfort. She would have loved to talk to Fiona, with her bright mind, sense of justice, and practical ideas, but she was gone, and Christianna knew she would never have understood the delicacy of the situation. She knew nothing about royal life. She had no one to talk to, and no one to offer suggestions or comfort, except Parker, who was as distraught as she was. He was at his wit's end, and all he wanted from Christianna was for her to meet him somewhere, but she couldn't yet. She was waiting for things to calm down, so she wouldn't draw attention to what they were up to, whatever they decided at the time.

The topper, of course, was a call from Freddy. He had gone to Amsterdam, and blithely said he was having a fabulous time doing drugs, and Victoria and her fiancé were with him. Christianna was instantly sorry she had taken the call. He sounded high, and was.

“Well, don't give me shit anymore, my perfect little virgin sister. All those speeches you and Father make me about facing my responsibilities. What a crock that is, while you're sneaking off to Paris with your boyfriend. You're just as bad as I am, Cricky, you just cover your tracks better, with all that holier-than-thou garbage, while you kiss Papa's ass. And you didn't cover your tracks so well this time, darling, did you?” He was nasty all through the call, and a moment after she took it, Christianna hung up. She hated him sometimes. And now she hated them all, even her father. There was so much hypocrisy and tradition, and unlivable rules that bound them. The only one she didn't hate was Parker. He suggested that the sooner she came out of her locked room, the sooner everyone would stop paying attention to her, and the sooner they could meet.

The day after he made the suggestion to her, she unlocked her doors. She went back to doing the appearances she was committed to make. She did everything she was supposed to do, and was expected to. The only thing she wouldn't do was go to dinners with her father, or events with him. Nor would she sit in the dining room with him alone. She just couldn't do it. She was eating very little these days, her heart was aching, and she ate in her room on a tray, with the dog as company. Her father didn't press the point. They nodded to each other when they passed each other in the halls, but neither of them spoke.

Chapter 17

For the rest of October and into the early days of November, Christianna performed her duties like the princess she was. She eventually began speaking to her father again, although with little warmth and great reserve. He had never hurt her so badly in her entire life, and what was worse, he knew it, and felt terrible about it himself. He was trying to give her as much space and time as she needed to heal. He was impressed that she was still fulfilling her duties, but deeply saddened by her continuing anger at him, although he fully understood why, and even sympathized with her. He just felt there was nothing he could do differently, due to the circumstances. It was an impossible situation even for him. He was locked in by his beliefs, and convinced he was doing the right thing for his daughter.

Freddy had caused one of his scandals by then. He had a fight with someone at Mark's Club. He had been frighteningly drunk, as usual, was asked to leave, punched the doorman, got in a fight with police on the street, and was taken to jail. In the end, they didn't arrest him, sobered him up, and her father's lawyers picked him up and brought him home the next day. He remained in Vaduz under house arrest for the next week, and then went back to Vienna to wreak more havoc. He was becoming a serious problem to his father, and after what he had said to her about Parker, for the moment she wanted nothing to do with him either. She was not on glowing terms with either her father or her brother. And her life in Vaduz got lonelier every day. She was pining for Parker, but he had not come up with any brilliant suggestions, as promised. There were none, and she knew it, but she still wanted to see him one more time, to say goodbye.

The opportunity came finally when her father went to Paris for a week, for UN meetings over the tensions in the Middle East. As a neutral country, Liechtenstein's contributions were valuable, despite its tiny size. And her father was a deeply respected man on the international political scene. He was well known for his integrity and sound judgment.

She called Parker as soon as he left. He was going to San Francisco for Thanksgiving in a few weeks, but he said he could fly to Europe to meet her first. Paris was out, because her father was there. London was always a hotbed of press. And Parker came up with a wonderful suggestion, which she loved.

“What about Venice?”

“It's cold in winter, but it's so beautiful. I'd love that.” And there was a good chance it would be deserted and no one would discover them. It was a spring and summer destination for lovers, not a winter one. It seemed perfect to them, and particularly to Christianna. Venice in winter seemed like the perfect place to say a tragic last goodbye.

She made her own arrangements by phone, which was more complicated than she thought it would be. And finally she had to take her secretary Sylvie into her confidence, because she needed a palace credit card to pay for her tickets. She had agreed to meet Parker there. Sam and Max had already said they would come with her, although they had some trepidation about it, once they suspected who she'd be meeting there. She told them she would take full responsibility for it, and two days later they were on the plane. Sylvie had been instructed to tell her father that she was going to a spa in Switzerland. But he was far too busy with the UN in Paris to call.

She left in darkest secrecy, and was more than a little nervous about it. But no matter what they did to her after this, or said to her, she had to see Parker one last time.

Sylvie had made reservations for them at the Gritti Palace. They had two rooms, as they'd done in Paris, but only planned to use one. And he was waiting for her at the hotel when she arrived. She called him, and he was in her room instantly, and she was in his arms. He had never looked more beautiful to her, nor she to him. She cried when she saw him, and moments later he had her laughing. They were days of laughter and tears, and endless love.

The weather was beautiful and sunny, they walked miles everywhere. They went to churches and museums, ate in tiny restaurants and trattorie, avoiding all the fashionable places where they might get caught, although Venice seemed almost deserted at that time of year. They walked through the Piazza San Marco, looking at the pigeons, went to mass in St. Mark's Cathedral, and took a gondola under the Bridge of Sighs, the Ponte dei Sospiri, as he looked at her happily. It was like a dream for both of them, and neither of them wanted to ever wake up.

“You know what that means, don't you?” he whispered, after they glided slowly under the Bridge of Sighs. The gondolier had sung to them, and Christianna was lying against him, totally content, covered in a blanket in the cool November air.

“What?” She looked peaceful and sounded dreamy as she looked up at him with a smile. They had been from Africa to Paris and now to Venice, but the journey they had shared would have to end here. She wasn't thinking about that then, just about how happy she was.

“Once we go under the Bridge of Sighs together, we belong to each other forever. That's what the legend says, and I believe it. Do you?” Parker asked as he pulled her close to him.

“Yes,” she said quietly. She had no doubt that she would love him for the rest of her life, but doubted she would ever see him again after this. And then she turned to look at him and told him again how much she loved him, so he would never forget this moment either. The difference between them was that in her head and heart she was freeing him, to go on and lead a life without her, almost as though she were going to die. In fact, her heart was doomed, at her father's hands. She would live her dutiful life forever, and then one day she would retire quietly. She had no intention of marrying some prince her father might introduce her to at some later time. She knew without hesitating for an instant that Parker was the love of her life. And in his innocence, as they drifted through Venice, holding hands and kissing, Parker had no idea what was in her mind. She was planning to tell him on the last night.

On their second day in Venice, they wandered in and out of shops under the arcade. They were mostly jewelers and a few antique shops. They finally walked into one tiny little shop in the corner under the arcade. They had some crosses Christianna wanted to look at, and they walked in, hand in hand. The shopkeeper was ancient, and Christianna spoke to him in Italian about the crosses while Parker poked around, and then noticed something in a display case that caught his eye. It was a narrow gold band with tiny emerald hearts embedded in it. It was obviously antique and well worn, but the color of the stones was pretty, and he pointed it out to Christianna and told her to ask the man how much. He quoted an absurdly low price, and when they both looked startled by how cheap it was for something so pretty, he apologized and reduced the price further. Parker gestured for him to take it out of the case so Christianna could try it on, and she was touched. He slipped it onto her finger and it fit perfectly, as though it had been made for her or belonged to her in another lifetime. The tiny bright green emeralds came alive on her delicate hand. Parker beamed at her, and paid the man as she looked at him in amazement, and then at the lovely band she was wearing.

“I don't know what you call it when you ask a princess to marry you, particularly when you're about to be beheaded by her father.”

“A guillotine ring, I think,” she said, smiling, and he laughed out loud.

“Exactly. That's our guillotine ring, Your Highness,” he said with a very creditable bow, as though he had done it a thousand times. “One day I'll replace it with a better one, if they'll ever let me. But in the meantime, that's so you know I love you, and I mean it. And if we go to the guillotine together, or I go by myself, at least you'll have something to remember me by.”

“I'll always remember you, Parker,” she said, with tears filling her eyes. And for the first time, as she looked at him, she realized that he knew as well as she did what this trip was. It was their goodbye, either forever or perhaps for a very long time. It would have been hard if not impossible for her to continue to sneak away to see him. It had been nothing short of a miracle for her to be able to do so this time. He knew perfectly what was happening, and so did she. They were storing away memories now, until they met again, if they ever could. Like squirrels in winter, gathering nuts to save for when they were starving. Their life of starvation would begin the day they left Venice. Until then, they were celebrating the abundance of their love. The little emerald ring served to confirm it, and when he slipped it onto her finger and told her he loved her, she vowed to herself and to him that she would never take it off. They referred to it after that as her guillotine ring, which always made her smile.

They visited the Doge's Palace and the Pisani Palace, and then the Pesaro Palace, and the Church of Santa Maria della Salute, and Christianna particularly wanted to visit Santa Maria dei Miracoli, because she wanted to pray for a miracle for them. It was the only thing that would help them now.

They shared their last dinner in a tiny restaurant on one of the smaller canals. A man sang love songs to them, with a mandolin, and whenever they weren't eating, they held hands. They took a gondola back to the hotel, and stood outside for a long moment, in the moonlight, looking at each other. Each moment they had shared in the past few days was etched forever in their minds.

“We're going to have to be strong, you know, Cricky,” Parker said to her. Without her ever having said it to him in so many words, he knew exactly that this was the last time they would ever be together, ever or for a long time. “I'm always going to be with you, sometime, somehow. If ever you doubt it, look at your guillotine ring, remember this, and we'll find our way back to each other someday.” As she listened to him, she knew that one day he would marry someone else, have children with them, and hopefully have a happy life. She couldn't even imagine doing that herself. She wanted no one in her life but him. And all he wanted was her.

“I'll love you till the day I die,” she said, and meant every word of it, while he hoped that wouldn't be for a long, long time.

And then, walking slowly, they went inside for their last night. He made love to her, and afterward, wrapped in their robes, they stood on the balcony, and looked at Venice by moonlight. It was heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Thank you for coming to meet me here,” she said, looking at him, and he pulled her slowly into his arms.

“Don't say that to me. I would cross the world for you. Whenever you want to see me, call me, and I'll come running.” They had agreed to continue e-mailing each other. She couldn't even imagine a life without contact with him, even if she couldn't see him again. And she had promised to call him, she needed to hear his voice, too. Her father could prevent them from seeing each other, but he couldn't stop them from loving each other. Only time could do that. And for now, they were still deeply in love.

They slept in each other's arms that night, stirring occasionally, touching each other, feeling each other's breath on their cheek as they lay tangled and enmeshed. They couldn't get enough of the feel of each other's skin, or the look in each other's eyes.

They stood in the shower together in the morning, letting the water run over them, and then made love one last time. They were each taking all they could with them. It was going to be a long hard winter for a very long time without each other's touch. All they had now was each other's love.

There were no paparazzi when they left. No one had said anything to them, or asked questions. Max and Sam had left them alone for all three days. The two guards had had a good time visiting Venice together, and when they went under the Bridge of Sighs, Samuel had teased Max that it meant they'd be together forever. And Max had asked him if he wanted to be shot now or later. They were both saddened, though, when they saw the look on Christianna and Parker's faces as they left for the airport. There was total silence first in the gondola, then the car, as they left Venice, and both men walked away as the two lovers said goodbye.

“I love you,” Parker said, holding her tightly in his arms. “Remember your guillotine ring and what it means. I would die for you, Cricky. And who knows what happens in life? Maybe one of those candles you lit will work.”

“I'm counting on it,” she said softly, clinging to him for the last few minutes, and then she had to leave. Her flight was first, and she kissed him again and again until Max and Sam thought they'd have to drag her away. “I love you … I'll call you when you get home.”

“I'll be right there, whenever you want me, and right here.” He touched his heart as he had when he left her in Africa. In his heart, he had never left her since, or even before.

They kissed one last time, and feeling as though she had wrenched her soul from his, she walked away toward the plane. She turned once, waved at him, her head held high, her eyes locked in his. She touched her heart and pointed to him. He nodded at her, never letting go of her eyes, and then she turned, and boarded the plane.

Chapter 18

Christianna never said a word on the plane, on the way from Venice to Zurich. Several times she looked down and touched the little band on her hand with the emerald hearts. Both men noticed it, and won dered if they had gotten married in Venice, but they didn't think they had. It was obviously something that had some deep meaning to her. She smiled at them as they got off in Zurich, and thanked them both for coming to Venice with her. There was something very quiet about her, sad, distant, and strangely removed, as though her heart and soul had left with Parker, and only a shell was returning to Vaduz, which was in fact the case.

She was silent again when they reached the palace in Vaduz two hours later. They had driven slowly, and she was in no hurry to get home anyway. It had been a magical three days in Venice with Parker, and all she had now was the rest of her life here, in prison. She would have preferred the guillotine to this. A life of eternal duty, to a father who had denied her her dreams, all in honor of her royal lineage. It seemed a high price to pay for who she was, and didn't want to be.

The dog was outside in the courtyard when they arrived. He bounded up to her, and she patted him. He followed her inside, and she went upstairs to her rooms. She'd been told her father was still away, and was due back that afternoon. They had timed it perfectly.

Sylvie was in her office and looked up at her. She didn't ask any questions. She didn't want to pry. She handed Christianna her list of appearances for the next day and the rest of the week. There was nothing unusual on the list, and all of it promised to be tedious in the extreme.

“I assume you haven't been watching the news,” Sylvie said cautiously, as Christianna looked at her and shook her head. Sylvie noticed the narrow emerald ring too and said nothing. “Your father stunned everyone by making a fairly historic speech at the UN meetings.” Christianna waited to hear the rest without comment. Sylvie had the same impression as Sam and Max, that Christianna's body had come back, but she wasn't really there. She looked like a robot as she went through the motions, and felt like one. Her heart and soul were on a plane to Boston with Parker.

“What kind of speech?” Christianna asked finally, without any particular interest. But she knew she was supposed to remain aware of her country's political positions, and the stands they took on international policies, particularly at the UN. The meetings in Paris had been important about dealings with the Arab world.

“He took a very powerful position, for a neutral country, on how some of the disputes should be resolved. There's been a lot of talk and comment about it. Every politician and head of state in the world has been asked for comment. He came out for some very strong measures. There's been a lot of criticism from some quarters, and a lot of praise from others. The press will be swarming once he's here. One of his secretaries told me that he has four interviews lined up today. The general consensus is that he was very courageous, and it needed to be said. I think the surprise was that no one expected it from him.” In other circumstances, Christianna would have been proud of him. But she was so numb now, she didn't care.

There was also a state dinner scheduled for that night, at the palace, and for the first time in over a month, Christianna had agreed to be there. This was the life she had signed up for, and given up Parker for. Like her father, she was doing her duty. It was all she had left.

She stayed in her rooms after that, unpacked her bags herself, and looked at the photograph of Fiona she kept on her dresser. It was a picture of her laughing, with her eyes wide in surprised delight, her mouth open in gales of laughter. It was how Christianna wanted to remember her. There were others of the whole team in Senafe, but that particular photograph of Fiona was especially dear to her. It made her think of her as happy forever. And there was another one of Parker, looking straight at her, in the shorts and hiking boots and cowboy hat he had worn at the camp. She looked at all the photographs, and then at her ring.

She didn't see her father until the state dinner that night. He was full of life and seemed very pleased with himself. His speech had caused a major stir at the talks in Paris and around the world. They were surrounded by press for days, which Christianna assiduously avoided. She went about her business quietly and did what she had to. Their eyes met once across the table at the dinner, and then she avoided him. She had asked not to be seated next to him, and in spite of her reluctance to be there, she had interesting dinner partners, and a pleasant evening. It was going to be a long lifetime of these evenings without Parker. It was hard to believe now that the night before she had been in Venice with him.

By sheer coincidence, she and her father were walking up the stairs to the private apartments at the same time. She heard his footsteps behind her, and turned to look, their eyes met and held, as she stopped on the stairs, and he walked up quietly and stood next to her.

“I'm sorry, Cricky,” he said softly, and she knew what he was referring to.

“Me too.” She nodded, turned, walked up the stairs to her own rooms, and softly closed the door, as he walked past to his own rooms.

She didn't see him again till two days later. She had to get a paper from his office, and saw him being interviewed. He was all over the papers these days, backing up the position he had taken, although it was becoming more and more controversial every day, and she had already noticed that they had discreetly increased palace security. He had three bodyguards with him everywhere he went, and Christianna suddenly had two. Although there were no direct threats, it seemed the prudent thing to do, and he always was, particularly about her. He had angered a lot of people, despite the fact that a vast number admired him for the position he had taken. Christianna was still angry at him, and would be for a long time, but she admired him for his courage at the UN. He was a man of integrity and strong beliefs.

She had spoken to Parker several times once he got back. He sounded tired, but always loving when she called him. His e-mails were funny and cheerful. Sometimes he sent her jokes that made her laugh out loud. Most of the time he told her what he was up to, how the research was going, and how much he missed her. She said the same things to him.

For the next two weeks she was busy at the palace. She had taken on some new projects, continued doing her usual obligations, and was starting to talk to the foundation about working for them. She had decided not to study in Paris in the spring. She wanted to go to work for the foundation that had been established in memory of her mother. It was the only thing that she was interested in, and made sense for her to do. The week she met with them, Parker was in San Francisco for Thanksgiving. It was a holiday she had enjoyed a great deal while she was in Berkeley. She had gone home with friends each year, and wished that she could be with him now with his father and brother. But that was never going to happen.

She had just spoken to him, when she went outside with the dog, and noticed that her brother had just arrived. He had driven up in a brand-new Ferrari, red typically, and when he saw her, he seemed in a good mood, although she was still angry at him too, over his comments about her getting caught by the paparazzi in Paris. They had seemed rude and unusually unkind to her, even for Freddy.

“How are you, Your Highness?” he teased her, and she gave him a haughty look and then laughed.

“Am I supposed to use your title now?” She laughed at him. He was truly impossible, but he was her brother.

“Definitely. I expect you to curtsy, too. I'm going to run this place one day, you know.”

“I try not to think about that.” He would never have had the guts to do what their father had just done on the world scene, or the knowledge of how to do it. Their father had skated a thin line between warring forces and opinions, and had come out looking like a hero. Even Parker had been impressed, although he wasn't happy with him these days either.

“What do you think of my new car?” Freddy asked her, changing the subject.

“Nice. It looks expensive,” she commented with a smile.

“Rumor has it I can afford it, or our father can. I just bought it in Zurich.” She had to admit it was a beautiful car, although he had two others almost just like it, in the identical color. He seemed to have an unlimited appetite for expensive, fast cars, and equally expensive, fast women. He had a new one in his arms at the moment, and probably others no one had yet heard of. It was a constantly revolving harem. “Want a ride?” he offered enthusiastically, as she laughed and shook her head. The way he drove always made her carsick. Even the dog ran away when he opened the car door.

“I'd love to. Later. I've got an appointment,” she lied, and hurried back into the palace.

As it turned out, the three of them had dinner together that night. The atmosphere was a little strained, as their father was currently annoyed at Freddy about something, which he didn't want to discuss in front of Christianna. She sat quietly with both of them, enjoying their company for the first time in two months, since the incident with Parker. It was almost December, and they were talking about their plans for Gstaad over the holidays. They sounded like a normal family for once. No one was talking about politics, economic policies, or even what Freddy had most recently done wrong. They were very relaxed, Christianna laughed at her brother's jokes, and their father even guffawed a little, although some of the jokes were somewhat offensive, but as always, they were funny. Freddy was definitely the family clown.

As they got up from dinner, he tried to talk Christianna into taking a ride with him, yet again, in the new car. But it was cold outside, and the road was probably icy. They had had their first snowfall a few days before. Freddy looked profoundly insulted that she wouldn't accept his invitation, and turned to his father.

“What about you, Father? Want a quick ride before bedtime?” His father was about to say no, but he spent so little time with him as a rule, and was so angry at him so often, that Hans Josef hesitated and looked like he thought he should make the effort. And he was always too busy to do things like that in the daytime.

“If you promise it's only for a few minutes. I don't want to wind up in Vienna, while you demonstrate the efficiency of the engine.”

“I promise,” Freddy said, looking delighted, with a smile at his sister. It was almost like old times that night, when they were both younger. Freddy had had a passion for great cars even then. Nothing much had changed, except that she had grown up and he hadn't. She had made a comment about it at dinner, and to get even, he had called her his older sister, although he was ten years older, the same age as Parker.

Their father went out into the hall, and asked one of the men in footman's livery to get him his topcoat, and he returned with it a moment later. Freddy had had enough to drink at dinner that he didn't need one. And Christianna followed them both outside. Charles, her dog, was sound asleep upstairs in her bedroom.

There were security guards outside, chatting easily. They had just changed shifts, and didn't notice them come out at first. Christianna thought that was unduly casual of them, given the current increase in their security concerns at the palace, due to the spotlight of world politics being focused on her father at the moment. Within a few minutes, the guards on duty came over to chat with them, but she thought it had taken them too long to get there. She didn't want to say anything then and embarrass them, but she was going to mention it to Sylvie in the morning and have her report it.

“May I assume I'm going to enjoy a civilized ride with you, Friedrich?” their father said with a jocular air. He was in a good mood after their pleasant dinner. “Or will I need a doctor to administer tranquilizers after I get back?” It was his way of warning him not to go 150 miles per hour.

“I promise, I'll be nice.”

“Don't scare Papa too much,” Christianna warned him, and with that the two men slid into the long, low, incredibly sleek-looking car. It looked almost like a bullet.

They closed the doors, her father waved with the window closed, and his eyes met hers for a moment. There was something sorrowful in them, as though he were telling her again how sorry he was about Parker. She knew he wouldn't change his mind, but he was sorry for the grief that he had caused her. As she looked at him and nodded, as though telling him she understood, she felt Parker's ring on her finger, and the highly sensitive machine took off, with Freddy's foot hard on the gas. She had never before seen a car start so quickly. She was about to go back inside because she was cold, but decided to stand and watch for a minute. She wondered if Freddy had managed to terrify her father yet. He too had liked fast cars in his youth— perhaps it was genetic—but in her father's case, never fast women, only her mother, even until now.

She was watching them, with a smile on her face, wondering when they would turn around, and as she stood there, Freddy slowed the car down, just enough to negotiate a turn in the road, and as he did, and the brakelight came on, there was the sound of an explosion so powerful that it sounded like the sky was coming down. At the same moment Christianna heard the sound, there was suddenly an enormous fireball where the car had been, and the car, her father, and Freddy literally vanished. Her mouth fell open as she looked at it, no one moved, and then suddenly everyone came running. The guards on duty flew down the road on foot as fast as they could, as others jumped into cars and sped toward the blaze, and Christianna began running. Her heart was pounding, and suddenly in her mind's eye, she saw Fiona lying in the mud … she kept running and running … there were suddenly sirens in the air, whistles blowing, men speeding past her, and the roar of the fire. She reached the place where the car had been almost at the same time as the men did. They were dashing everywhere, the palace fire engines came, and men with hoses, water was shooting everywhere, and someone pulled Christianna backward. She was dragged away as she stared at all of them. And all she could see was the fire raging, seemingly in midair, there was no car, and beneath where it had been, a huge burning hole in the ground. Her father and Freddy had disappeared into the atmosphere. Someone had put a bomb under Freddy's car. Her entire family was gone.

Chapter 19

Afterward Christianna could no longer remember what had happened, not unlike the day that Fiona had died. She remembered walking back into the palace, people running everywhere, two security guards taking her to her room and staying there with her. Sylvie appeared, other faces that she knew, and some she could no longer remember. Police came and went, bomb squads, soldiers. Trucks of men in riot gear arrived, Swiss police, ambulances, news trucks. The ambulances were unnecessary. Not even shreds of her father and brother could be found. In the early hours, no one claimed responsibility for the bomb, nor did they expose themselves later. Her father's act of courage at the UN meetings had come at a high price. They must have planted the bomb sometime between the time Freddy arrived and after dinner. But if they had put it under his car, clearly they hadn't intended to kill the reigning prince, perhaps only the crown prince as a warning to his father. With Freddy's excitement about his new car, and the friendly family dinner, they had managed to kill the reigning prince as well, by sheer blind luck.

The palace and the grounds were swarming with men in uniforms all night, and as though in a daze, Christianna insisted on leaving her room with her security guards and walked among them. And as soon as she left the palace, she saw Sam and Max running toward her. Without thinking or saying a word, Max took her in his arms and began crying, as Sam stood by with tears rolling down his cheeks. Both had been with the family for years, and all Christianna could do was stare once again at the still-burning blackened pit where the car had been when it exploded.

At first, only a few people had realized that Prince Hans Josef was in the car—they had thought it was only Freddy, which was bad enough. But news spread rapidly, passed by the guards who had seen him get in the Ferrari with his son. It had been a double tragedy and a double loss for the country, and the world, that night. Christianna was ringed with guards carrying machine guns, and Max and Sam on either side, as she wandered around. She refused to go back into the palace. It was as though by staying close to where they had been when they vanished into thin air, she could somehow bring them back or find them. It was impossible to understand the implications of all that had happened, and all it meant for Liechtenstein. She looked at Sam and Max, and seeing them cry, it began to dawn on her that she had lost her brother and her father. She was an orphan, and her country had no leader.

“What's going to happen?” she asked Max, looking terrified.

“I don't know,” he said honestly. No one did. Aside from the personal tragedy it was for her, it was a huge political dilemma for the country. Freddy was the reigning prince's only male heir, and women were not allowed to be considered for the succession. There was literally no one to take his place.

Christianna never went to bed at all that night. It was still impossible to understand what had happened. Newscasters were everywhere, wire services were sending reporters. After his breathtaking speech at the UN, Hans Josef was a major piece of news, and the car bomb was considered important world news. Inevitably, the two events were intimately linked. Mercifully, a fleet of guards shielded Christianna from the news teams.

At some point in the middle of the night, Christianna went upstairs and Sylvie helped her dress in somber black. She came back downstairs, and all of her father's assistants and secretaries were there, frantically making notes and calls. She had no idea who they were calling or what to do. His principal assistant came to her, as she wandered around like a ghost, and told her they had to make arrangements.

“Arrangements for what?” She looked blank. She was in shock. She appeared competent and sane, even calm, but she couldn't get her mind to understand what had happened. All she kept thinking was that Papa was gone. She felt five years old again, and could suddenly remember everything that had happened the morning her mother had died … and now Freddy … poor Freddy … for all his foolish ways, now he was gone, too. They all were. She was totally alone in the world.

She was sitting in her father's office with his secretaries and armed guards in the room when her father's members of Parliament arrived. All twenty-five of them, wearing black suits and black ties, with ravaged eyes. They had been up together, in little groups, in each other's homes all night, alternately watching the news and crying, and discussing what to do. They had an enormous problem, one the country had never had before. They no longer had a reigning prince, they had no one in line for succession, as he had died with the crown prince, and women could not even be considered, according to their constitution. Aside from the overwhelming personal tragedy that had occurred that night, it was a disaster for the country as well.

“Your Highness,” the prime minister spoke to her gently. He could see that she was in no condition to talk. But they had no choice. They had been together since four o'clock that morning, hours after they'd been called with the news, and had waited till eight o'clock to come to the palace. Everyone, including Christianna, had been up all night. The palace was ablaze with light in the November darkness. “Your Highness, we must speak with you,” the prime minister said again. He was the senior member of all twenty-five, and had been her father's chief confidant. “Will you sit down with us?” She nodded, still looking dazed, and they cleared the room of everyone except the guards carrying machine guns. No one knew what to expect next, or if the car bomb had been a single act, a precursor to a broader offense, or even an ambush on the palace. There were Swiss soldiers carrying machine guns outside and in the palace. The Swiss government had offered them immediately and sent them from Zurich.

Christianna sat down, staring at the members of Parliament, and they all took chairs around the room. They were sitting in what had been her father's office, and it felt strange to her that he was not there. For a moment, she wondered where he was, and then like a second explosion in her mind, she remembered. More than anything, she remembered the look they had exchanged just before her brother drove him away. That look of apology and regret that would now haunt her for a lifetime, along with the bitter argument that had driven a wedge between them for two months. They had not even yet recovered, until the wounds began to heal that night, and now he was gone. She kept telling herself she would never see either of them again, and found it impossible to absorb it.

“We must speak to you. We are all beside ourselves with grief over your enormous loss. It is something so horrible that it is truly beyond thinking. Please accept our deepest condolences, from all of us.” She nodded, unable to speak herself as tears came to her eyes. She was in fact a twenty-four-year-old girl who had just lost all the family she had. And there was no one to console her, only these men who wanted to talk to her. She recognized each and every one of them as she looked around the room. All she felt able to do was nod. It had been an immeasurable shock, as they were well aware. Her face was so pale, she almost looked transparent.

“But we must also speak to you about the succession. Our country has no leader. It's a situation that, according to our constitution, must be resolved at once. It is dangerous for us to have no one in charge, particularly now.” For the moment, the prime minister was designated to handle any national disaster, which this certainly was. But all of them felt uneasy having no one to fill the seat her father had so unexpectedly and suddenly left empty. “Are you able to understand what I am saying to you, Your Highness, or are you too upset?” He spoke to her as though she had suddenly become deaf. In fact, she was overwhelmed at having been left so bereft. But she was still able to understand, if not respond.

She finally forced words from her mouth, for almost the first time since it had happened. “I understand,” she was able to confirm.

“Thank you, Your Highness. What we want to discuss with you is who is to take the succession.” He was well aware of her family history, and knew each member of the hundred-member Family Court. “You have several cousins in Vienna who are directly in the line of succession. They are related to you, of course, on your father's side. But in fact, when I went down the list last night, at least the first seven of them, or even eight or nine, are not appropriate to even consider. All of them are far too old and some quite ill. Several have no children, so the succession could not pass down through them. And a great many after that are women. And you know the rules about no female succession. We would have to go to well over the twentieth in line, even twenty-fifth, to find a man of appropriate age, in good health, and I am not even sure he would accept. They are all Austrian, and none has had close ties with Liechtenstein, which leads us to a very interesting place.

“Your father was a very modern man, or an interesting combination. He respected all of our venerable traditions, he believed in everything this country has stood for, for a thousand years. At the same time, he instigated a number of new and more modern positions, without ever sacrificing the old ones. He believed women should have the vote, in fact long before they actually got it. And Your Highness, he had great respect for you. He frequently told me how interested you were in our economic policies, and the very astute suggestions you made, particularly for a young person your age.” He never mentioned her brother Freddy, it would have been inappropriate now, but the reigning prince had frequently said to several of his ministers that if it were not for their current laws, Christianna would have been far more able to reign than her brother. “We have an enormous problem here,” he went on, pausing for breath. “We have no one in direct line to your father, who is truly the right choice for the succession. As we all know, these things are passed on by blood, and often not by skill. But if we are to follow bloodlines, to find someone the right age and sex, we would have to go far down the succession. I don't think it ever occurred to your father, nor should it have, that the crown prince would not reign. But with this tragedy that has befallen us tonight and you, Your Highness, with the greatest respect, I believe that I know what your father would do if faced with this situation. We discussed it at length, all through the night, and we all agree that the only right choice for the succession here is you.” Christianna stared at him as though he were insane, and briefly wondered if she was. Perhaps she was dreaming all this, her father and brother hadn't died and she would wake up in a minute, after escaping this hideous nightmare.

“We are proposing to pass a new law, an emergency measure, to be confirmed and approved by the Family Court immediately, to change our constitution and amend it, to allow the succession to extend to women from now on, and in this case, specifically to you. Further to that, we discussed also tonight that we are equally aware that in your bloodline, on both sides of your mother's immediate family, you are related to the kings of France. If you accept the succession in your father's name, and become reigning princess of Liechtenstein, as we hope you will, and your people, I believe, will also hope you will, given your relationship as direct descendant of the kings of France, in this case, we would wish you to become reigning princess as a Royal Highness, and not a Serene one. I truly believe your father would have approved that too, and of course that also would have to be ruled on and confirmed by the Family Court, also immediately. We must fill the succession as soon as possible. We cannot leave Liechtenstein without a leader. Your Highness, I am asking you on behalf of all of us, as prime minister and one of your subjects and countrymen, in your father's name, will you do it?” There were tears literally pouring down Christianna's cheeks as she listened. She was a twenty-four-year-old girl they had just asked to become leader of her country, reigning princess in her father's shoes. She had never been so frightened in her life, and was shaking from head to foot, from terror, grief, and shock. Everyone in the room could see how hard she was shaking. She could barely speak. She was touched beyond words, but felt completely unequal to the job. How could she ever measure up to her father? And a Royal Highness? They might as well have asked her to be queen. And in a way, they just had. She liked the idea of women being accepted into the line of succession, and always thought they should be, but she felt so much less capable than one needed to be to take on such an overwhelming task.

“But how could I do that?” She was crying so hard she could barely speak.

“We believe you can. And I feel absolutely certain your father thought so, too. Your Highness, I am asking you, begging you, come to your country's aid tonight. We will do all we can to support you, and help you. No reigning prince has ever felt ready for the job. It is something that you learn and grow into. I truly believe you are capable of it, and that your father would want you to. Will you accept what we are suggesting to you? If so, Your Highness, it will be a blessing for us all, also for you, and surely for our country.”

She sat rooted to the spot in her seat, looking from one face to another, and the answer was there in each pair of eyes. Had one of them looked doubtful or hesitant or angry, she knew without a moment's pause she would say no. But instead each of them looked at her expectantly, begging her to do as they asked. They were imploring her, and worse than that, she could almost hear her father's voice from the grave, asking her to do it. She sat staring at them miserably, still shaking, she had never been so frightened or sad in her life. And almost as though a power stronger than she were forcing her to, she slowly nodded her head, unable to believe what she was doing. This was for the rest of her life, until she died. Now she would have to carry the same burdens he had. She would have to live for her country and no longer for herself. Duty would no longer be just a word to her, it would be a way of life she could never escape. But even as she thought of it, backing away from it like a horse from its stall in terror, she looked the prime minister in the eye and spoke in the merest whisper.

She said a single word as she looked at them. “Yes.”

As soon as she said the word, everyone in the room was smiling and looked relieved. In spite of the terrible tragedy that occurred that night, the members of Parliament were pleased. The prime minister reminded her that Elizabeth had become Queen of England at twenty-five, and it was a far bigger country and greater responsibility. There was no doubt in his mind or those of everyone else in the room that she could rule Liechtenstein, and well, at twenty-four. Christianna looked totally amazed.

He then told her what would happen next. “Each of us will call four members of the Family Court, to put both of these proposals before them. That you will be the reigning princess of Liechtenstein, as the first woman to do so, and hereafter women will be allowed the succession, and that your title will be Royal Highness now, due to your mother. There are twentyfive of us, and we will contact the entire Family Court today. If they vote in your favor, and ours, we will hold a private investiture tonight, in this office. It is my most ardent hope that that will happen. Liechtenstein cannot be without a leader, and we sincerely believe that you are the best person, the right person, and the only person for the job.” He stood then, looked at her and around the room, and added, “May God be with us all, and with you, Your Highness. I will call you with the results this afternoon.” And then, before she could catch her breath or change her mind, they filed out of the room. She stood there for a long moment after they left, and looked at the portraits or her greatgrandfather, grandfather, and father that hung there. She looked into her father's eyes in the portrait that was so very like him, and sobbing, she left the room.

Chapter 20

Three men with machine guns walked Christianna upstairs to her bedroom, where Sylvie was waiting for her. She looked as shaken as everyone else in the palace that night. She looked frightened and exhausted and grief-stricken. Prince Hans Josef had been a wonderful man. And before Christianna had even fully entered the room, she reminded her that they had a funeral to plan. A state funeral, for both of them, the reigning prince and the crown prince. Christianna couldn't even get her mind around it, let alone do it.

“Would you like to lie down for a few minutes, Your Highness, before we start?” Christianna nodded, thinking that this woman didn't even know what was coming. If the Family Court voted as the ministers wished them to, by that night she would be reigning princess. It was too terrifying to even think about.

A moment later Sylvie left the room, and said she would be back in half an hour. The three men with machine guns followed her, and stood right outside the door, while Christianna lay down. There was only one person she wanted to talk to now, the only person she knew would help her and support her. She didn't even check to see if she had an e-mail from him. She was sure he had heard by now. However tiny her country was, she was sure that the bomb that had killed her father and Freddy was an explosion that had been heard around the world.

She picked up the phone that sat next to her bed, and dialed Parker's cell phone. Even in her confusion and misery, she vaguely remembered that it was Thanksgiving and he was in San Francisco.

He answered on the first ring, and had been desperate for her call. He knew there would have been no hope whatsoever of reaching her if he tried. Everything he had seen on the news had suggested chaos at the palace in Vaduz.

“My God … Cricky? …Are you all right? … I'm so sorry … I'm so sorry …I heard it on the news.” She listened to his voice and just sat there and sobbed. “Sweetheart, I'm so sorry this happened. I couldn't believe it when I saw it.” The news had shown a blazing fire on the palace grounds, and soldiers and riot police running everywhere. The palace looked completely overrun. To Parker's dismay, there had been almost no mention of her whatsoever. All he knew was that she was alive.

“Neither could I,” she said miserably, trying not to remember it again … that awful moment when the car had turned into a ball of flame, taking her father and Freddy with it. “I was standing right there when it happened.”

“Thank God you weren't in the car with them.” At first he had been afraid she was. And as he said it, she suddenly remembered that Freddy had offered her the ride first, and she had declined. It was the hand of fate. “Are you all right? I wish I were there to help you. What can I do? I feel so helpless.”

“There's nothing you can do. I have to begin planning the funerals in a minute. They're waiting for me, but I wanted to talk to you first. I love you … something else terrible has happened,” she said, sounding mournful, and Parker braced himself for yet more bad news. It was hard to believe it could get any worse than this, or even come close. “There is no one else in direct line for the succession. All my father's cousins are terribly old … they're Austrian …Parker, they want to change the law about female succession. They're putting it to the Family Court today.” She choked on another sob. “They want to make me reigning princess … oh my God, how could I ever do that? I don't know anything about it, I could never do the job …and my life will be ruined forever. I would have to rule the country till I die, or pass on the succession to one of my children one day …” She was crying so hard she could barely speak, but he had heard every word she said. Thousands of miles away, he looked as shocked as she had. He couldn't even begin to imagine what that meant.

“And they want to make me a Royal Highness, because of my mother, not Serene.”

“You've always been royal to me, Cricky,” he said gently, trying to soften the blow for her. It seemed like an awesome responsibility, even to him. But like her ministers, he didn't doubt for a moment that she could do the job. He knew she could, and would do it well. He didn't even have the remotest idea of what it meant for them. And all he could think about was how worried he was about her. Not only did she have to face the grief of losing her family, but now she had to take over running a country as well. It was truly beyond belief.

“Parker …, ” she said, choking on sobs, “I'll die an old maid.” She sounded like a child as she wailed, and all he wanted was to put his arms around her.

“I don't see why that has to be the case. Your father was married and had children. Queen Elizabeth of England was married and had four kids, and I don't think she was much older than you are when she became queen. I don't see why one has to exclude the other,” he said sensibly, trying to calm her down. The one thing he didn't see was how he fit into the picture now. If anything, it seemed worse for them. With her new status as a Royal Highness and no longer a Serene one, he was even less likely to be considered suitable for her. The only difference now was that she would be making the rules, and he couldn't help wondering if that changed anything. Her father had had the power to allow her to marry a commoner, and refused to use it. But Parker had absolutely no idea if the prince could have married one himself, and in Cricky's current griefstricken state, he wasn't about to ask. He knew that other monarchs had married commoners, particularly in Scandinavian countries, and he vaguely remembered they had given them titles and everything was all right. For the moment, Doctor was good enough for him, he wasn't going to worry about the rest. She had enough on her mind right now. He didn't want to add his concerns.

“Queen Elizabeth was twenty-five!” Christianna corrected him in a choked tone, and this time he laughed.

“I think you're up to it by a year. Do you want them to wait a year?” he teased.

“You don't understand,” she said, sounding miserable and very young. “If the Family Court says yes, there will be a private investiture tonight …I will be reigning princess by tonight … how am I ever going to do that?” She was crying harder again. The poor thing had lost her father and her brother only hours before, and now they were putting a whole country on her back. It would have been a lot for anyone to swallow at one gulp.

“Cricky, you can do it. I know you can. And just think, now you can make all the rules.”

“I don't want to make the rules. I hated my life before, now it will be worse … and I'll never see you again.” She couldn't stop crying, and he wished more than ever that he could hold her and calm her down. She had so much to go through in the coming days.

“Cricky, now you can do anything you want. We'll see each other again … don't worry about it. Whenever you can see me, I'll be there. And if you can't, I love you anyway.”

“I don't know what I can do. I've never been reigning princess before, and I don't want to be.” But she knew she couldn't refuse. She felt as though she owed it to her father to take this on, so she had agreed.

Sylvie stuck her head in the door at that point, and tapped her watch. They had to get to work. They had state funerals to organize, two of them. Christianna was beside herself. She didn't even have time to properly mourn her father and brother, no chance to absorb what had happened, and within hours she would have a country to run, and thirty-three thousand people she would be responsible for. The very prospect of it was terrifying, and he could hear it in her voice.

“Cricky, you have to try to calm down. I can't even imagine how awful this must be. But you have to do everything you can to hang on now. You can't afford to do anything else. Call me anytime you want. I'm right here, sweetheart. I love you. I'm right there with you. Now try to be strong.”

“I will …I promise … do you think I can do it?”

“I know you can.” He sounded loving and calm.

“What if I can't?” Her voice shook as she asked.

“Then you fake it for a while and figure it out as you go. No one will ever know the difference. You're the boss. All you have to do is act like it … maybe start with a few beheadings. Something like that,” he teased, but she didn't smile. She was completely overwhelmed.

“I love you, Parker … thank you for being there for me.”

“I always am, baby …I always am.”

“I know.” She promised to call him back later, and went to find Sylvie in her office. She already had mountains of papers on her desk. Christianna had to make the decisions, and Sylvie and her father's staff would do the rest. All she had to do was plan their funerals right now. She would worry about the rest later. And everywhere she went, men with machine guns went with her. They were still on high alert.

The first thing Christianna did was plan two state funerals. One in Vienna, the other in Vaduz. There were no bodies to lie in state, she realized with horror. So she and Sylvie planned a mass at St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna, and the following day, they would have one at St. Florin's in Vaduz. It was Thursday, and they planned the first one for the following Monday, and in Vaduz the day after. She had to select the music and decide what kind of flowers. They decided to have two empty caskets at the service, and a reception afterward at Palace Liechtenstein. The security considerations were enormous, given what had happened. And the same would be true in Vaduz.

She worked on it all day with Sylvie and her father's staff, and was still hard at work on it, with no sleep the night before, when the prime minister called her, and Sylvie handed her the phone. She said that he wouldn't say what it was about. Christianna knew, but they had told no one yet.

“They approved it,” he said in a serious voice, and as she heard it, Christianna gasped. In some tiny part of her, she had hoped they wouldn't. But they had. Now she had to live with the consequences of accepting their offer that morning. “They also named you a Royal Highness. We are very proud, Your Highness. Can you do it at eight o'clock tonight?” It was already after six. “I thought perhaps we could do it in the chapel. Is there anyone you want there other than your ministers, Your Highness?” She wanted Parker there, but it wasn't possible. The only other people she wanted were Sylvie, Sam, and Max. They were her best friends now, and the only form of family she had left. She would have asked Victoria to come, but there wasn't time.

“We'll announce it to the press tomorrow morning, to give you a night of rest. Will that be all right, Your Highness?”

“Absolutely. Thank you,” she said, trying to sound gracious rather than terrified. She remembered that Parker had said to fake it for a while, and no one would know. And she realized as she hung up, after thanking the prime minister again, that after eight o'clock that night, from now on everyone would address her as “Your Royal Highness.” Everything in her life had changed in the blink of an eye … with the explosion of a car … It was impossible to absorb all that was happening. The Family Court had voted unanimously to let her reign. All she could do now was pray that she didn't let them down, and work as hard as she could for the rest of her life to make sure that was the case. But her father's shoes seemed too big to fill, especially with feet as small as hers.

“We have to go to the chapel at eight o'clock,” she said to Sylvie as she hung up. “And I need Sam and Max.”

“Is there a mass?” She looked puzzled. She hadn't planned it or notified anyone. Christianna looked ravaged and vague.

“Sort of,” she said. “It's just the members of Parliament and us.” Sylvie nodded and went to notify Sam and Max. It was seven by the time she found them. At a few minutes before eight, Christianna and the others left her father's office for the chapel. And as they did, she couldn't help thinking that twenty-four hours before, her father and brother had been alive.

She had had a call from Victoria that afternoon, offering her condolences, and telling Christianna that when it was all over, she should come and stay with her in London. Christianna realized that from now on she couldn't do any of those things again. From today on, when she went anywhere, it was a state visit. Her life would be even more complicated than it had been before. And in much greater danger, given what had happened.

When they got to the chapel, the ministers and the archbishop were waiting for them. The ministers looked solemn, and the archbishop kissed her on both cheeks. He said it was both a happy occasion and a sad one. He spoke about her father for a few minutes, and as Sylvie, Sam, and Max realized what was happening, all three of them began to cry. It had never even occurred to them that this could happen.

The prime minister had had the foresight to get Christianna's mother's crown out of the vault, and her father's sword for the archbishop to use for the investiture. The prime minister gently set the crown on her head, and she knelt before the archbishop in the simple black dress she'd worn all day, as he touched her on each shoulder, after reciting the traditional rites in Latin, and declared her Her Royal Highness Christianna, reigning princess of Liechtenstein, as rivers of tears ran down her face. Other than her mother's crown, which was heavy with diamonds and dated back to the fourteenth century, the only piece of jewelry she was wearing was the narrow band of heart-shaped emeralds that Parker had given her in Venice, which had never left her finger since then.

She turned to face her ministers and her three faithful employees, still crying, as the archbishop blessed them all. She looked at her new subjects, and seemed like a very young girl, in the heavy crown and her plain black dress, that she had been wearing since that morning, as she planned her father's and brother's funeral. She looked like a child playing dress-up in the crown, but however young or frightened she was, she was now Her Royal Highness Christianna, reigning princess of Liechtenstein.

Chapter 21

The state funeral at St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna for her father and Freddy was a ceremony of great pomp and circumstance. The cardinal of Vienna, two archbishops, four bishops, and a dozen priests stood on the altar. Christianna herself sat alone in the front pew, with armed guards all around her. The announcement of her investiture had been made three days before. And she walked behind the empty caskets both coming in and going out of the cathedral, with guards carrying machine guns following her closely.

The service itself took two hours, with the Vienna Boys' Choir singing. She had them play all the music that she knew her father loved. It was a somber, heartrending service, and Christianna cried as she sat alone, with no one to comfort her or hold her, or even hold her hand. From where they stood near her, Max's and Sam's hearts went out to her, but there was nothing they could do for her. As the reigning princess, she had to stand alone now, no matter how hard the moment or agonizing the task. Her life as Her Royal Highness, reigning princess of Liechtenstein, had officially begun.

When they sang the Ave Maria, tears poured down her cheeks, as she stood with her eyes closed in a black dress and coat and a big black hat with a heavy veil.

And then, when it was over, she walked slowly down the aisle of the cathedral, behind the two empty caskets, thinking of her father and Freddy. People in the church whispered about how beautiful she was, and so agonizingly young to have to face so much.

There were two thousand mourners, all by invitation. Heads of state and royals from all over Europe had come. And afterward they entertained them all at Palace Liechtenstein in Vienna. It was the longest day of her life. Victoria was there, but she barely saw her. Victoria still couldn't get over the astounding fact that her cousin was now the reigning princess of Liechtenstein. Christianna couldn't get over it herself. She was still in shock.

She talked to Parker before and after the funeral, and she sounded utterly exhausted. And at nine o'clock that night, they began the drive from Vienna, to arrive at the Vaduz palace shortly after three A.M. They traveled in convoy, with lead and chase cars ahead and behind them. No group had as yet claimed responsibility for the car bombing that had killed her brother and father. And the security they were surrounding her with was immense. She was already sad and lonely, and she had only been reigning princess for three days. She knew that once she truly began the job of reigning, it would be even worse. She remembered now all too clearly how exhausted and discouraged her father used to get on some days. Now that fate was hers.

Sam and Max were in the car with her as they drove back to Vaduz from Vienna, and asked her several times if she was all right. She nodded yes. She was too tired to even speak.

She went straight to bed when they reached Vaduz. She had to be up at seven. The funeral in Vaduz was scheduled for ten the next day. And this one was even sadder, because it was the home she knew he had loved, the place where he had been born, and where he and his son had died. Christianna felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she walked down the aisle with the empty caskets again, and the music was even more mournful, or seemed it to her, than it had been the day before. And she felt even more alone, in the home of her own childhood, now that they were gone.

The funeral in Vaduz was open to the public, and they opened part of the palace for a reception afterward. Security was so intense that it looked like an armed camp. And there were news cameras from all around the world taking pictures of her.

Parker sat watching it at home in Boston. It was four o'clock in the morning for him, as he saw it on CNN, and he had never seen Christianna look more beautiful. She looked absolutely regal as she walked down the aisle in her hat and veil. The day before, he had watched the funeral in Vienna as well. As best he could, he had been with her every step of the way. And when she called him late that night, afterward, she sounded absolutely drained. He told her how magnificent it had been, what an exquisite job she'd done, and within minutes, she was crying again. It had been the most awful week of her life.

“Do you want me to come over and see you, Cricky?” he offered quietly, but she knew there was no way she could see him now.

“I can't.” The eyes of the world were on her. They both knew she would be under close scrutiny for a long time. She could do nothing scandalous, she had to run her country responsibly. Her life belonged to her people now. She had sworn to uphold Honor, Courage, and Welfare, just as her father had before her, and all those who had come before. They had given up their lives just as she had. She had to follow in their footsteps now, as best she could. And more than ever, she had no idea when she would see Parker again. There would be no more stolen weekends in Paris or Venice, where she could disappear for a few days. She had to live the job she had taken on every minute and hour of the day, for the rest of her life.

She was wearing formal mourning, and the day after the funeral, her life as reigning princess began. They barely gave her time to mourn. She had meetings with ministers, with heads of state who came to offer condolences, she had economic policy meetings, had to visit banks in Geneva. She had briefings and conferences and meetings of every possible kind. Within four weeks her head was spinning, and she felt as though she were drowning, but the prime minister told her she was doing a fine job. In his opinion, her father had been right. She was the best man for the job.

She canceled her plans for Gstaad that year. There would be no Christmas for her of any kind. She didn't have the heart for it, and she and the ministers had agreed that there was to be no formal state entertaining for six months, out of respect for her father. Whatever dignitaries she met with, she would invite for lunch. They had already shortened the official period of mourning from a year to six months.

She met with the foundation, and had quiet dinners at the palace with the prime minister, who was trying to teach her everything she needed to know about her new job. She wanted to learn everything as fast as possible, and soaked it all up like a sponge. She and her father had often spoken in depth about his policies and the intricacies of government, so it was not entirely unfamiliar to her. But the job and the decisions were now hers, with her ministers' guidance, of course.

Sylvie was with her night and day. Max and Sam were glued to her. The heavy security had not yet changed, and when Victoria called and said it would be fun to visit her, Christianna told her bluntly she couldn't come. Her childhood days were over now, she had serious things to do. She began her day in her father's old office at seven, and went straight through until late at night, just as he had.

The only thing that had changed was that Parker was able to call her now. But there was no way she could see him, even for a friendly visit between two old friends. She was single and a reigning princess, and every breath of scandal had to be kept as far away from her as possible. She told him that he couldn't come to visit her, not even for an informal dinner as an old friend she had worked with in Africa, for at least six months.

He wasn't pressing her, in fact he was a constant source of support for her. She called him every night when she finished work, sometimes at midnight for her, which was only six o'clock at night for him. He made her laugh sometimes, and she shared no state secrets with him. As much as the man she loved, he had become her best friend.

The press was also fascinated with her, and took photographs of her every time she left the palace. She found it wearing, but also realized it was part of the landscape for her now. Everything in her life had changed. The only thing that hadn't changed in the past month was the presence of her ever-faithful dog. Charles had become an office fixture now, and the staff jokingly referred to him as the royal dog. He was every bit as mischievous, boisterous, and sometimes badly behaved as he had been before. It was only his mistress who had changed. She worked endless hours, missed her father constantly, and had no time to play or relax. All she could think of now was representing her country and its citizens in the eyes of the world. She began to understand more and more the overwhelming sense of duty her father had felt, and each day she thought of him with ever greater respect and love.

And when she wasn't performing tasks of state, in the weeks after her father's and brother's awful deaths, she had to face painful tasks like going through their personal effects. Her brother's cars were quietly sold. All her father's personal things were stored. She hated walking past his empty rooms, and still felt like an interloper in his office, but she was deeply grateful to his staff for their invaluable support and assistance.

Two days before Christmas she was talking to Parker on the phone, and he had never heard her sound so tired.

“Aren't you going to do something for Christmas, sweetheart? You can't just sit there all alone.” Just hearing the loneliness and exhaustion in her voice made him sad. She had become the lonely princess in the palace in Vaduz. She had no one to spend Christmas with, no family left to be with her. And when he asked her about it, she said that all she was going to do was attend midnight mass. Other than that, even on Christmas Day, she was going to work. She had so much to learn, so much to do, so many things she needed to understand, in order to do an ever better job. She was driving herself too hard, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to help, other than talk to her every night. Their time together in Venice seemed a million years away. The only reminder of it was the little emerald band she always wore.

Parker was spending Christmas with his brother in New York that year. He was too busy with his research project to go to California over the holidays to see his father. And on Christmas Eve, she hadn't had time to speak to him that day. She was planning to call him after midnight mass that night.

She ate a quiet dinner alone, with the dog next to her. Thinking of her father and brother, and the happy times they'd shared, she had a heavy heart and had never felt as alone in her entire life.

Max and Sam went to mass with her, they were always with her now. They had become her personal bodyguards. They were with her in the car as she drove to St. Florin's. In Vaduz that year, it was an icy-cold night. There was snow on the ground, but it had been crystal clear all day, and the air was like needles in her lungs as she got out of the car and walked to the church, wearing somber black and a heavy black hooded coat. Only her beautiful face peeked out.

It was a beautiful mass. The choir sang “Silent Night” in German, and as she listened, tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. It was impossible not to think of the overwhelming losses she had sustained, and the shocking changes in her life in the past month. Even Parker was almost a distant memory now, his existence unreal, a disembodied voice on the phone. He was still the man she loved, but she had no idea when they would meet again, and lying in bed at night, she still longed for his touch.

She walked slowly to the communion rail, following the townspeople of Vaduz, who were all her subjects now. And as they passed her in the aisle, even as sad as she was that night, she smiled at them, as though thanking them for the faith they had in her. They had all been so kind to her, and so welcoming, ever since her father's death. She wanted to earn their confidence and trust, and felt she hadn't yet. Honor, Courage, Welfare. She had finally come to understand the meaning of those words.

She was almost at the altar rail, as a man in a pew just in front of her stood up, turned, and she saw his face. She stopped in her tracks and stared at him. She couldn't understand what he was doing there. He had said he would be in New York. He stood there, smiling at her, and very gently took her hand. He pressed something into her palm, and not wanting to draw attention to them, she continued to move toward the altar rail with her head bowed and a smile on her face. It was Parker.

She took communion, still holding tightly to the tiny package he had slipped into her hand, and then she saw Max watching her. He had seen him, and he was smiling, too. And so was Sam. She went back to her own pew then, bowed her head, and prayed, for her father and brother, the people she owed so much to, and finally for Parker. She lifted her face finally, and with the longing of ages, she was looking at his back, and loving him more than she ever had.

When mass ended, she waited in her pew until he was nearly in front of her, and then he stopped to let her get out. She looked up into his face, thanked him, as people smiled at her, and he quietly followed her out. She shook hands with many of her subjects that night outside the church. Parker stood among them, and she looked into his face with unbridled love as he approached.

“I just came to say Merry Christmas,” he said, smiling at her. “I hated the thought of your being alone.”

“I don't understand,” she said, not wanting to give anything away.

“I'm staying in Zurich, and I'm going back in the morning, to spend Christmas with my brother and his kids.”

“When did you arrive?” She still looked confused. Had he been there for days? But she had talked to him in Boston the day before.

“Tonight. I just came for midnight mass.” The thought of what he had done touched her heart. He had come for hours just so she wouldn't feel alone. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she couldn't with so many people around. Max and Sam came closer and said hello to him. It was obvious that the foursome were old friends. She had slipped his little package into her pocket, and she had nothing to give him but her love.

“I can't take you home with me,” she whispered, and he laughed.

“I know,” he whispered back. “I'll come to visit some other time. In five or six months. I just wanted to give you that,” he pointed to her pocket, and as they walked away from the church together, with Max and Sam on either side of her, she reached for Parker's hand again and held it tight.

As they walked, she was surrounded by people who wanted to see her and touch her. She wished them Merry Christmas and thanked them, and then turned to Parker with an aching heart. “How can I thank you?”

“We'll talk about it. I'll call you when I get back to the hotel.” And then with a little bow to her, just like the bows all of her subjects made, he smiled at her, walked back to the car he had rented, glanced at her one more time, and drove off. He had been like a vision who had appeared to her, and disappeared into the night. It was the most amazing thing anyone had ever done. She reached into her pocket and felt the little package as she got into her own car with Sam and Max. Parker had done it perfectly. No one had suspected anything. He had been there when she needed him, just as he always was, and then he was gone. He had cost her nothing, and given much.

She waited until she was alone in her bedroom to open the little package he had left with her. It felt like it was wrapped in cotton, and it was so small she couldn't guess what it was. She wished she had been able to give him something in return.

She unwrapped it carefully, first taking the paper off, and then pulling the cotton off, and when she saw it, she gasped. It was a beautiful little diamond ring, in an old setting, and she knew instantly what it meant. But how could she accept this from him? Her father was no longer there to stand between them, but now she had a country to run, and a nation of people to represent. It was no more possible than it had been three months ago, if anything it was even less. The only difference was that now she was the reigning princess, and she made the rules and proposed the laws. She could in fact propose a law allowing her to marry a commoner, and ask for the approval of the Family Court. They would give him a title probably, if they decided to honor her request. But after all they had already given her in the past month, it was a lot to ask. She sat staring at the ring in her hand, and feeling like a young girl again, she slipped it on. It fit perfectly, as though made for her. The small diamond was beautiful, and meant more to her than her crown.

She was still looking at it in wonder when he called.

“How can you do this?” she asked him in amazement.

“I wish I could have put it on,” he said, with a voice full of love. He had just gotten back to his hotel.

“So do I.” But he had done it perfectly. He had slipped it to her so discreetly that no one could possibly have known.

“Does it fit?” he asked cautiously.

“Perfectly.”

He took a sharp breath, frightened himself this time, before he asked the next question. “So, Your Royal Highness, what do you think?” She knew exactly what he meant, but she had no idea what to say to him. The answer to that question was no longer hers to give.

“I think you're the most remarkable man I've ever known, and I love you with all my heart.” He had actually flown all the way from Boston for one night, to wish her Merry Christmas and give her the ring. And if she accepted it, he was hers, and she his.

“Well?” he asked nervously. “Is it no or yes?”

“It would have to be decided by the Family Court and Parliament. And out of respect for my father, I don't think I could ask them for a year.”

“I can wait, Cricky,” he said quietly. They already had since he left Africa at the end of July. It seemed like an eternity, but it had only been five months.

“I might be able to announce an engagement in six months,” she said cautiously. “But we couldn't marry till the end of the year.”

“Maybe by next Christmas,” he said, sounding hopeful. “What do you think the Family Court would say?”

“I could ask them to make you a Count, or something equally suitable, in order to make you eligible. To be honest, I don't know what they'd say. What about your work?” She looked worried suddenly. She couldn't ask him to give up everything for her. It wouldn't be fair.

“I'll have finished my project by then.” He had already thought about it long and hard for months, and again on the flight here. He was sure. “There's AIDS work I can do here. There's an excellent AIDS research clinic in Zurich.” He had thought of everything long before tonight.

“I don't know what they'd say. I could ask. But if they say no …” Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought. She couldn't lose him now. But nor could she abandon the people she had promised her life to only a month before. “When are you leaving?” she asked him suddenly. She was dying to see him, but there was no way she could. And he couldn't come back to visit her for months. When he did, they would have to do it right. There was no way she could ever sneak away now. He would have to visit her at the palace and come to court her. It all had to be entirely aboveboard. She had to act with honor and courage, and think of the welfare of others before herself, no matter what it cost, even love.

“My plane is at ten tomorrow morning. I'm leaving the hotel at seven, and I have to check in by eight.”

“I have to make some calls. I love you, Parker. I'll let you know before you leave. Just know how much I love you and always will.”

“The ring was my grandmother's,” he said, as though it made a difference. He had gotten it from his father on Thanksgiving. But it wasn't the ring Cricky wanted, it was him.

“I love it. But I love you more.”

She made a single phone call, but he was out. And then she lay on her bed, thinking of Parker all night. He did the same at the hotel. And heard nothing from her before he left. His heart sank as he checked out of the hotel in the morning.

The prime minister called her back at eight the next morning. She swore him to secrecy but asked him the vital questions. He said it had been done in other countries, and he didn't see why it couldn't be in theirs, if she felt it was the right thing. In fact, she had the right now to overrule the Family Court and even the parliament. She had the power, just as her father had before, but wouldn't use it on her behalf.

“It is,” she said, sounding jubilant for the first time in months. It was awful to say, and she wouldn't have to him, but even her investiture as reigning princess hadn't meant as much to her as this.

“It would have to be kept quiet for the next five or six months. You can get everyone used to the idea after that. I'll do what I can to help,” he said, sounding more like a benevolent uncle than a prime minister. She wished him a Merry Christmas then and got off the phone.

She looked at her watch. It was eight-fifteen. And he hadn't called her before he left the hotel. She had said she would call him. She picked up the phone to call security, and asked them to send Max to her room. Sounding worried, they asked if she had a problem, and she said not at all. She grabbed a piece of paper then, and scribbled a few words. Max was at her door in five minutes.

“How fast can you get to Zurich? The airport,” she asked, as she slipped the piece of paper into an envelope and handed it to him.

“An hour. Maybe a little more. Is it rushed?” He could read in her eyes how important it was to her. He smiled, knowing who he was going to see. It was easy to guess.

“It's very rushed. His flight leaves at ten for New York. It's Parker.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness. I'll find him.”

“Thank you, Max,” she said, remembering fondly the days in Senafe when he and Sam called her Cricky. Those days were gone forever, like so many other things in her life. But others had come in their place, and more were coming still. She hoped Max would reach him in time. If not, she would call him in New York. But she wanted him to know before he left. He deserved at least that after all he'd done.

Max flew from Vaduz to the Zurich airport. He took one of the palace security cars and kept his foot on the gas. He checked for the flights leaving for New York, found the right one, and headed for the gate to wait for him. The flight hadn't boarded yet. And then five minutes later he saw him, looking tired and walking slowly toward the gate, lost in thought. Parker gave a start when he saw Max, who gave him a broad smile and wished him a Merry Christmas, then handed him the envelope Christianna had given him. It was small and white, with her crown and initial on it. C with a crown overhead. He saw Parker's hands shake as he opened it, and read it carefully, as a broad smile spread slowly across his face.

She had written, “Yes. I love you, C.,” on the piece of paper. He folded it and slipped it into his pocket, and then slapped Max on the shoulder with a huge grin.

“Can I talk to her?” Parker asked as they called his flight. He was laughing to himself. He had proposed, and she had accepted, and they hadn't even kissed. But they were engaged anyway. Things were certainly different with a princess! He hadn't even slipped the ring on her finger, but had flown all the way from Boston to bring it to her, and only see her for a few minutes at midnight mass.

Max called security at the palace on his cell phone, and asked them to connect him to Her Royal Highness. He smiled at Parker as he said it. They both remembered other days when she was a Serene Highness, but only Cricky to them in Senafe. She was on the phone two minutes later, and he handed it to Parker.

“Did you get my note?” She sounded anxious but happy.

“Yes.” He beamed. “What happened?”

“I called the prime minister, and he doesn't see why it couldn't happen. As he put it, they do it in other countries, why not ours? We're getting very modern around here these days. And the truth is, I could overrule them anyway, but we have the prime minister's full support,” which would make it easier for them. And she could no longer honor her father's promise to her mother. She smiled as she looked at the ring on her finger. It was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. She was wearing it with the emerald band.

“Does this mean we're engaged?” Parker asked, turning away from Max and lowering his voice.

“Yes.” She was beaming, too. “Finally,” she said with a victorious tone. They had worked hard for this, both of them, and had been patient. Destiny had taken a hand in it, a hard one, but in the end the prize they both wanted so badly was theirs. “He said we need to keep it quiet for five or six months. And I agree. I don't want to be disrespectful to my father or Freddy.”

“That's fine with me.” He had never been so happy in his life.

They called his flight for the last time, and Max tapped his shoulder, as Parker nodded frantically to him.

“I have to run. I'm going to miss my flight. I'll call you from New York.”

“I love you … thank you for the ring … thank you for coming here … thank you for you,” she said, rushing to get it all in before he hung up.

“Thank you, Your Royal Highness,” he said, as he closed the cell phone and handed it to Max with a smile.

“Have a good flight,” Max said, shaking hands with him. “Will we see you again soon, sir?” he asked with a wry smile.

“Don't call me ‘sir,’ and you bet you will … in June, and a lot more after that … Merry Christmas!” He waved as he ran for the plane. He was the last one in, and they closed the door behind him immediately.

He found his seat and sat down, smiling blindly out the window, thinking about her. She had looked beautiful the night before, when he saw her in church. He sat there thinking of everything that had happened in a few hours, as the plane circled the airport and headed toward New York. Not long after that they flew over Vaduz, as the pilot pointed out the castle and said that a real live princess lived there. As he said it, Parker smiled to himself. It was hard to believe. It still seemed like a fairy tale to him. He had fallen in love with a girl in braids and hiking boots in Africa. She had turned out to be a princess who lived in a castle, and now the princess was his, and always would be. The story even had a fairy-tale ending. And they lived happily ever after, he thought to himself, and grinned. And in the castle, the princess was smiling, too.

About the Author

DANIELLE STEEL has been hailed as one of the world's most popular authors, with over 560 million copies of her novels sold. Her many international bestsellers include Bungalow 2, Sisters, Coming Out, The House, Toxic Bachelors, Miracle, ImPossible, and other highly acclaimed novels. She is also the author of His Bright Light, the story of her son Nick Traina's life and death.

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DANIELLE STEEL

On Sale in Hardcover

October 30, 2007

AMAZING GRACE

The lives of four unforgettable characters collide in Danielle Steel's compelling new novel, as a shocking natural disaster transforms each of them forever, leading them on journeys of change and revelation, courage and grace …

AMAZING GRACE

On Sale October 30, 2007

Chapter 1

Sarah Sloane walked into the ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton in San Francisco and thought it looked fantastic. The tables were set with cream-colored damask cloths, the silver candlesticks, flatware, and crystal gleamed. They had been rented from an outside source, which had donated their use for the evening, and offered fancier options than those provided by the hotel. The plates were rimmed with gold. Silver-wrapped party favors were on the tables at each place. A calligrapher had written up the menus on heavy ecru stock, and they'd been clipped into little silver stands. The placecards with tiny gold angels on them had already been set down according to Sarah's carefully thought-out seating chart. The gold sponsor tables were at the front of the room, three rows of them in fact, with the silver and bronze tables behind them. There was a beautiful program on every seat, along with an auction catalogue and numbered paddle.

Sarah had organized the event with the same meticulous diligence and precision that she did everything, and in the way she had run similar charity events in New York. She had given every detail a personal touch, and it looked more like a wedding than a benefit, as she glanced at the cream-colored roses encircled with gold and silver ribbons on every table. They had been provided by the city's best florist at one-third of the normal cost. Saks was providing a fashion show, Tiffany was sending models to wear their jewelry and wander through the crowd.

There was an auction of high-ticket items, which included jewelry, exotic trips, sports packages, celebrity meet-and-greet opportunities, and a black Range Rover parked in front of the hotel with a huge gold bow tied on top. Someone was going to be very happy driving the car home at the end of the evening. And the neonatal unit at the hospital benefiting from the evening was going to be even happier. This was the second Smallest Angels Ball that Sarah had organized and run for them. The first one had netted them more than two million dollars, between seat prices, the auction, and donations. She hoped to make three million tonight.

The high caliber of the entertainment they were providing would help them get to their goal. There was a dance band, which would play on and off during the night. One of the other members of the committee was the daughter of a major Hollywood music mogul. Her father had gotten Melanie Free to perform, which allowed them to charge high prices for both individual seats and particularly the sponsor tables. Melanie had won a Grammy three months earlier, and her single performances like this one usually ran a million five. She was donating her performance. All the Smallest Angels had to pick up were her production costs, which were quite high. The cost of travel, lodgings, food, and the set-up of her roadies and band was estimated to cost them three hundred thousand dollars, which was a bargain, considering who she was and the cataclysmic effect of her performance.

Everyone was so impressed when they got the invitation and saw who was performing. Melanie Free was the hottest musical artist in the country at the moment and dazzling to look at. She was nineteen years old and had had a meteoric rise in the last two years, due to her consistent hits. Her recent Grammy was the icing on the cake, and Sarah was grateful she was still willing to do their benefit for free. Her greatest fear had been that Melanie would cancel at the last minute. With a donated performance, a lot of stars and singers dropped out hours before they were expected to show up. But Melanie's agent had sworn she would be there. It was promising to be an exciting evening, and the press were covering the event in force. The committee had even managed to corral a few stars to fly up from L.A. and attend, and all the local socialites had bought tickets. For the past two years, it had been the most important and productive benefit in San Francisco—and, everyone said, the most fun to attend.

Sarah had started the benefit as a result of her own experience with the neonatal unit, which had saved her daughter, Molly, three years ago, when she was born three months premature. She was Sarah's first baby. During the pregnancy everything seemed fine. Sarah looked and felt fabulous, and at thirtytwo, she assumed she wouldn't have any problems, until she went into labor one rainy night, and they couldn't stop it. Molly was born the next day and spent two months in an incubator in the neonatal ICU, with Sarah and her husband, Seth, standing by. Sarah had been at the hospital day and night, and they had saved Molly with no ill effects or resulting damage. She was now a happy, bouncy three-year-old, ready to start preschool in the fall.

Sarah's second baby, Oliver—Ollie—had been born the previous summer, without any problems. He was a delicious, chubby, gurgling nine-month-old now. Her children were the joy of Sarah's existence and her husband's. She was a full-time mom, and her only other serious activity was putting on this benefit every year. It took a monumental amount of work and organization, which she was good at.

Sarah and Seth had met at Stanford Business School six years before, which had brought them both out from New York. They married as soon as they graduated, and stayed on in San Francisco. Seth had gotten a job in Silicon Valley, and just after Molly's birth he had started his own hedge fund. Sarah had decided not to join the workforce. She got pregnant with Molly on their wedding night, and wanted to stay home with their babies. She had spent five years working on Wall Street in New York as an analyst, before going to business school at Stanford. She wanted to take a few years off now, to enjoy motherhood full-time. Seth had done so well with his hedge fund that there was no reason for her to go back to work.

At thirty-seven, Seth had already made a considerable fortune, and was one of the brightest young stars in the heavens of the financial community, in both San Francisco and New York. They had bought a beautiful large brick house overlooking the bay in Pacific Heights, and filled it with important contemporary art: Calder, Ellsworth Kelly, de Kooning, Jackson Pollock, and a handful of promising unknowns. Sarah and Seth were thoroughly enjoying their life in San Francisco. It had been easy for them to move since Seth had lost his parents years before, and Sarah's had moved to Bermuda, so their family ties to New York were no longer strong. It was obvious to everyone on both coasts that Sarah and Seth were there to stay, and they were a wonderful addition to the business and social scenes of the city. A rival hedge fund had even offered Sarah a job, but she had no desire to do anything except spend her time with Oliver and Molly—and Seth when he was free. He had just bought a plane, a G5, and flew to L.A., Chicago, Boston, and New York often. They had a golden life that only got better year by year. Although she and Seth had both grown up in comfortable circumstances, neither of them had had the extravagant life they had now. It worried Sarah a little from time to time that maybe they were spending too much money, with a fabulous house in Tahoe in addition to their city house, and their own plane. But Seth insisted they were fine. He said that the kind of money he was making was meant to be enjoyed. And there was no question that he did.

Seth drove a Ferrari, and Sarah a Mercedes station wagon that was perfect for her with two kids, although she had an eye on the Range Rover that was going to be auctioned off that night. She had told Seth she thought it was really cute. And most of all, it was for a good cause, one they both really cared about. After all, the neonatal unit had saved Molly's life. In a less high-tech, medically sophisticated hospital, their adorable three-year-old wouldn't be alive today. It meant the world to Sarah to give back by organizing the benefit, which had been her idea. The committee turned an enormous profit over to them after the evening's expenses were paid. Seth had kicked things off for them with a two-hundred-thousand-dollar donation in both their names. Sarah was very proud of him. She always had been and still was. He was the star of her heavens, and even after four years of marriage and two children, they were very much in love. They were even thinking about trying for a third baby. She had been overwhelmed with the benefit for the past three months. They were chartering a yacht in Greece in August, and Sarah thought that would be the perfect time to get pregnant again.

Sarah walked slowly around each table in the ballroom, double-checking the names on the placecards against her list. Part of the success of the Smallest Angels Ball was that it was exquisitely run. It was a first-class event. As she made her way toward the silver tables, after checking the gold, she found two mistakes, and switched the placecards with a serious expression. She had just finished checking the last of the tables, and was going to check on the party favor bags that six of the committee members were filling to hand out at the end of the evening, when the ben-efit's assistant chair made her way toward Sarah across the ballroom, with an excited look. She was a beautiful, tall blonde married to the CEO of a major corporation. She was his trophy wife, had been a model in New York, and was twenty-nine years old. She had no children and wasn't planning to have any. She had wanted to be on the committee with Sarah because the benefit was such a big deal and so much fun. She'd had a ball helping Sarah put it together, and the two women got along well. Sarah's hair was as dark as Angela's was blond. Sarah had long, straight, dark brown hair, creamy skin, and huge green eyes. She was a beautiful young woman, even with her hair in a ponytail, no makeup, a sweatshirt, jeans, and flip-flops. It was just after one o'clock, and in six hours both women would be transformed. For now, they were hard at work.

“She's here!” Angela whispered with a broad grin.

“Who?” Sarah asked, resting her clipboard on her hip.

“You know who! Melanie, of course! They just arrived. I took her to her room.” Sarah was relieved to note they had come in on time, on the private plane the committee had chartered to bring her and her entourage from L.A. Her band and roadies had come by commercial jet, and had already been in their hotel rooms for two hours. Melanie, her best friend, her manager, assistant, hairdresser, boyfriend, and mother, had come up in the chartered plane.

“Is she okay?” Sarah asked, looking concerned. They had gotten an advance list of everything she required, including Calistoga bottled water, low-fat yogurt, a dozen kinds of natural foods, and a case of Cristal champagne. The list was twenty-six pages long, referring to all her personal needs, her mother's food preferences, even the beer her boyfriend drank. And then there were another forty pages referring to the band, and all the electrical and sound equipment they'd need on stage. The eight-foot grand piano she required for her performance had been brought in at midnight the night before. She and the band were scheduled to rehearse that afternoon at two. Everyone else had to be cleared out of the ballroom by then, which was why Sarah was finishing her rounds at one.

“She's fine. The boyfriend is a little odd, and her mom scared me to death, but her best friend is cute. And Melanie is really beautiful and very sweet.”

Sarah had had that impression the one time she spoke to her on the phone. The rest of the time, Sarah had dealt with her manager, but she had made a point of calling and thanking Melanie personally for doing their benefit. And now the big day was here. Melanie hadn't canceled in favor of a performance somewhere else, the plane hadn't crashed, they'd all arrived on time. The weather was warmer than usual. It was a sunny afternoon in mid-May. In fact it was hot and muggy, which was rare in San Francisco, and more like a summer day in New York. Sarah knew that it would break soon, but it always created a festive atmosphere in the city when the nights were warm. The only thing she didn't like about it was that someone had told her that days like this one were considered “earthquake weather” in San Francisco. They'd been teasing her about it, but she didn't like hearing it anyway. Earthquakes were the one thing that had worried her about the city since they'd moved there, but everyone assured her that they rarely happened, and when they did, they were small. In six years of living in the Bay Area, she hadn't felt one yet. So she dismissed what they had said about “earthquake” weather. She had other things to worry about right now, like their star singer and her entourage.

“Do you think I should go up to see her?” Sarah asked Angela. She didn't want to intrude, nor be rude by neglecting them. “I was going to meet her here when she comes down for rehearsal at two.”

“You can just stick your head in and say hello.”

Melanie and her group had two large suites, and five other rooms on the club floor, all provided on a complimentary basis by the hotel. They were thrilled to host the event, and gave the benefit committee a total of five free suites for their stars and fifteen rooms and junior suites for their VIPs. The band and roadies were on a lower floor, in lesser rooms that the committee had to pay for out of the benefit budget, which came from their profits for the night.

Sarah nodded, put her clipboard in her handbag, and checked on the women stuffing the party favor bags with expensive goodies from a variety of stores. And a moment later she was in the elevator on the way to the club floor. She and Seth had a room there too, so she used her key for the elevator. Otherwise there was no way to get to that floor. She and Seth had decided it would be easier to dress at the hotel than go home and rush back. Their babysitter had agreed to stay overnight with the kids, which made it a nice night off for Sarah and Seth. She could hardly wait till the next day, when they could lie in bed, order room service, and talk about the event the night before. But for now, she just hoped everything would go okay.

As soon as she got off the elevator, Sarah saw the huge lounge on the club floor. Pastries, sandwiches, and fruit were set out, bottles of wine, and a small bar. There were comfortable chairs, tables, telephones, a vast array of newspapers, a gigantic widescreen TV, and two women sitting at a desk, to help guests in any way they could, with dinner reservations, questions about the city, directions, manicures, massages, whatever whim a guest could have. Sarah asked them for the directions to Melanie's room, and then continued down the hall. To avoid security hassles, and fans, Melanie was registered under the name Hastings, her mother's maiden name. They did that at every hotel, as did some of the other stars, who rarely registered in their own names.

Coming this Spring

HONOR THYSELF

BY

DANIELLE STEEL

On Sale in Hardcover

February 26, 2008

A world-renowned actress falls victim to a terrifying explosion in Paris—and begins a courageous journey of survival, memory, and self-discovery in Danielle Steel's mesmerizing new novel.

H.R.H.

A Dell Book

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Published by Bantam Dell

A Division of Random House, Inc.

New York, New York

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2006 by Danielle Steel

www.annemackintoshportraits.com

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2005056946

Dell is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-307-56648-5

www.bantamdell.com

v3.0

Table of Contents

Cover

Other Books By This Author

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

About the Author

Copyright