Page 4 of The Princess Home for Christmas

Chapter 2

At first, Thomas stepped further back behind the brothers as they waited for Dahlia’s car to pull into the front of the palace. The more he thought about his plan to be present when Dahlia arrived, the more he questioned his wisdom. He had stopped by to meet with her mother about literacy and had hoped for an invitation to stay, but he didn’t know they were going to make a big fanfare about her entrance, and now he wanted to sneak away around the corner and hide in a sitting room somewhere until she was settled and home and had greeted her family.

But here he was, and there was no path back inside that wouldn’t be naked-visible to everyone. So he stepped forward and inched his way back into her eyesight. He turned on his most charming grin, the one the girls always swooned over, and waited for her to see him. Now that he was there, he better put his best foot forward.

She noticed him immediately, if her frown was anything to go by.

Trane whispered. “Steady man.”

He grunted. “Easy for you to say.”

Trane and a few of the other brothers’ chuckles did nothing to comfort Thomas.

“Perhaps I should hide?”

“Get a backbone. Who’s to say you’re here for her, anyway?” Thad’s overly confident approach did not seem like the one to try with Dahlia, but neither did remaining the simpering youth she had always known.

She wore business casual. Thomas could picture her meeting with teams of relief workers, hugging children, and working beside the volunteers to dig out canals, all in that same outfit. When he’d heard she paid a visit to Golan Heights to aid Syrian refugees, he had cheered her on and then became sick with worry. The area was a hotbed of political unrest and far too visible on an international level.

He was proud of her and her efforts, and he suspected she would be asking for space in Torren for refugees. More space. The country accepted a percentage of all those seeking asylum, but Lucan and his security team banned anyone associated with anyone who might be a threat, and so those numbers were often smaller than they could be.

Thomas didn’t blame Lucan. The whole situation was complicated. But he had started looking into aid and relief when he knew Dahlia was interested. He focused most of his efforts on one small village, and had fallen in love with them, their children, their families.

Dahlia walked up the entrance, greeting each brother in turn. He could smell her perfume. Her hair toppled off the top of her head in a large bun, tendrils framing her face. He felt his charmer smile relax into something warm. She turned to him and her skepticism turned to a flash of surprise. Her eyes searched his face and for a moment, he could tell she was pleased. Then her eyes narrowed. “Thomas.” Her tone spoke her exasperation. “I’m surprised to see you. I mean, it’s great, whatever, a bit highschool…”

“Oh, relax sister. He’s here to talk to mother about literacy.”

Then she blushed and Thomas wished Thad had kept his opinions to himself. He saw her defenses rise. “Great. Thank you for your interest. I’m sure she is pleased.” She nodded to him and then turned to greet their mother.

“I think I’ll leave now.” Thomas wanted nothing more than to run and hide and see her again when he felt more in control of the situation. But Victoria Valdez, former queen, called over to him. “You will stay for dinner of course.” She waited for the only response he could reasonably give.

“Thank you. I’d love to.”

Dahlia entered the palace arm in arm with her mother, and the brothers and their wives or fiancées, as Lucan and Queen Anna were not yet married, all separated to do their own things. Thomas was left to himself, standing alone in the courtyard.

Dahlia turned. “Come in. I’ll be down shortly.” Her small smile filled him with hope. Perhaps he was not as annoying to her as he had always been.

Thomas was shown into a family sitting room. The far wall overlooked the expanse of the ocean. The palace sat on a grand plateau overlooking Grevena and the western coast of the island country of Torren. He imagined generations of Valdez family members staring out at this same view and a spark of patriotism burned in his chest. He, like many citizens of Torren, was intensely proud of their royals and their history.

The staff brought him his briefcase and so he pulled out his laptop, sat at a small table, and began work. Soon he was lost in a sea of emails and department problems at the University, intermixed with great news of more aid for the village he was supporting. He was in the middle of typing out a heartfelt thank you to the woman on the group who kept things going for him. When a soft voice reminded him where he was.

He stood. “How long have you been standing there?”

Her face had a funny expression, confusion mixed with admiration, possibly. “Not long. You were busy, so I thought I’d wait. But you seem to be writing a book?” Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

And he felt his face heat. “A book. If only I could be so dedicated. No, it was a rather long email though.”

She nodded. “You’ve been busy.” She moved to sit on the couch facing the window.

He came to join her. “As have you. I can’t believe all you are doing for refugees—”

She held up a hand and checked the door. “Not everyone knows I do that.” Her eyebrows raised. “And I’m surprised that you know it.”

He shifted in his seat. “I walk in some of the same circles with my own efforts and so you come up, sometimes.”

“Lucan told you.”

He groaned on the inside. “I admit he clued me in, at first. But people talk, Dahlia. I’m not the only one who knows. You paid a visit to Golan Heights. Several news pundits picked it up. People know you’re at least interested in helping.”

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