The Prince's Forbidden Love. Raye Morgan

spent a hard few days negotiating with her parents, the King and Queen, in order to convince them that the only way peace would be achieved would be for them to lock their daughter into a marriage contract that would cement the ties and keep the jealousies in check. With Emeraude and Diamante joined as one, the renegade House of Rubiat wouldn’t dare try another power-grab.

      They’d invited him to share their dinner, and, though he usually didn’t like to socialize with negotiating partners, he’d liked the two of them well enough, and respected them enough, to make an impulse decision to eat with them. They’d been talking pleasantly when Julienne had come into the room.

      “And here she is,” her father had said fondly. “The center of all our conversation these days.” He’d smiled at his daughter. “Prince Andre, may I present Princess Julienne?”

      He remembered rising and giving her a deep bow, while she curtsied in her charming way. He recalled smiling at her and thinking she was the cutest thing he’d seen in ages. For just a moment he’d wished he had a young sister about her age, someone he could take under his wing and mentor in the ways of royal life. And that was odd, because he’d never had a thought like that before in his life—nor had he since—and yet that was pretty much what very soon came to pass.

      She’d charmed him right from the beginning. She was such a sweet, lively girl, but with a spark of humor and a quick understanding that seemed to belie her young age. He’d liked her immediately.

      Only weeks later her parents had been killed when their light plane went down in the mountains. Andre became her guardian from the first, with the consent of all concerned. He’d been the architect of the treaty and it was up to him to make sure its elements were complied with.

      He’d brought her to Diamante Castle and treated her like one of the family from the first. King Harold, his father, was busy with affairs of state, his life’s work, which he’d thrown himself into with a vengeance once Nadine, his wife, queen and Andre’s mother, had been killed by a sniper years before. They rarely conferred. Harold was the sort of man who seemed weighed down by his work. To the casual observer, he was an old grouch. But not to Andre. Andre knew the tragic sorrow he carried with him at all times and he loved him for it.

      Still, his father never showed much interest in the young, lively and engagingly coltish girl who’d come to live with them, and it was up to Andre, despite the fact that they were less than ten years apart in age, to act the part of elder authority along with everything else. And the two of them had got on well together. He looked back on those days as some of the happiest of his life.

      As she’d grown older, he’d known it couldn’t last. And then came her eighteenth birthday and the dance—and the kiss.

      That was when he knew he had to call upon some inner well of strength to get through the next few years until she married. And here they were, with six days left. Was he going to make it?