Page 106 of A Princess for Christmas

Marie and Max had decided that instead of talking to their parents immediately, they would corner them after dinner—before the dreaded announcement was to be made—so there was less time for a protracted discussion. They were counting on the desire to avoid a public scene to work in their favor. Marie fully expected aprivatescene to follow later, but they would deal with that when the time came.

Dinner was excruciating, not least because Lucrecia was at their table. But it wasn’t the usual kind of excruciating. There were the typical Lucrecia barbs, but Marie found they didn’t stick like they used to. She tried a new strategy: cheerfully concurring. Yes, her mother had been so graceful and lovely. Yes, it was remarkable that Marie had chosen to study engineering instead of a more traditional field like history or literature. She was happy to agree with her former tormenter because she realized suddenly that none of what this woman saidmattered. None of it wastrue, and more to the point, Marie had people in her life who knew that. Who saw the real her.

No, the excruciating part was the interminable wait until it was time to put their plan into motion.

“Now?” she whispered to Max as they watched her father get up from his table—he was at one closer to the front with Max’s parents and some other senior nobles and parliamentarians. He was headed for the dais where he would traditionally make a toast to open the dancing. She and Max had hypothesized that this was where the big announcement would come.

“Yes. Now.” Max rose and pulled her up with him. He was going to talk to his parents while Marie intercepted her father—a simultaneous, two-pronged attack at a moment where appearances were important—to their parents, at least. “Break a leg, M,” Max whispered, and he was gone.

Her legs quivered but she forced herself forward, suddenly worried that they hadn’t timed it right, that her father would beat her to the dais.

She had to get there first. Her father was wending his way through the tables, stopping every now and then to return a greeting someone made as he passed. She decided to take a shortcut through the empty dance floor.

The click of her heels on the parquet floor thundered in her ears. Marie had no idea what she was going to say. She had decided that rather than rehearse a speech, she would speak from the heart. She hadn’t taken into account that the organ in question was going to feel like it might pound out of her chest. She hitched her floor-length skirts up so she could pick up the pace without stepping on them. Adrenaline made her clumsy, though. Adrenaline and high heels. As she reached the center of the dancefloor, she stumbled. Pitched forward awkwardly but managed to right herself after a few lurching steps.

She heard gasps. She was drawing attention. “Oh my god!” she heard someone exclaim. All right, yes, she was embarrassing herself, but really, who cared? She took a fortifying breath and continued toward the front.

The expressions of shock from the crowd continued. “Can you believe it?” she heard someone murmur as she passed. She was starting to get annoyed. So she’d stumbled. It wasn’t a crime.

“Look at him!” came another voice.

Look athim? Was Max drawing attention, too?

Marie turned, looking for the source of everyone’s marveling and—

All the air whooshed out of her lungs. She was getting that floaty feeling again, like at the UN. Like she was full of helium and if she wasn’t very careful and very deliberate, she might take flight, just float up to the chandelier above her head that was functioning like a spotlight. Because there was Leo, perched halfway down the majestic, red-carpeted staircase at the front of the ballroom.

How surprising. But also hownotsurprising. Wasn’t Leo always there when she needed him? He looked extremely annoyed—which made her smile, because he looked so much like himself, despite the very un-Leo-esque tuxedo he was wearing. He scanned the crowd, either not realizing or not caring that everyone was all aflutter about his sudden appearance, until his gaze landed on her.

The room went quiet. It was as if they were watching a movie, and they all knew they’d reached the denouement. “Would you care to dance?” Leo’s voice echoed across the vast space betweenthem, but it was low and sure. As if his question was mundane and not the most remarkable thing anyone had ever asked her.

“Yes,” she said, her voice also sounding remarkably steady. “Yes, I would.”

The music started before either of them moved. It was the same song they’d practiced to. She spared a glance for the band—and found Mr.Benz standing behind the bandleader.

How extraordinary.

Leo started coming down the stairs, and he looked exactly like he had two days ago, after the snowball fight. He looked like a predator. He also looked like a prince.

The tuxedo he was wearing was free of adornment. Leo Ricci didn’t do adornment. He didn’t have to. It was more the way he carried himself, confident—bordering on entitled, almost. Focused.

Focused on her. So intensely. No one could mistake that look. That stride. He was staking a claim. He was coming for her.

Earlier, she’d been focused on not making a scene. But she hadn’t known thatthiskind of scene was an option. Her entire body tingled as he jumped down the last few steps, landed like a panther, and began crossing the floor, oblivious to the lights shining on them and to the crowd watching in silent astonishment.

She half expected him to ravish her right there, but he merely swept her into his arms. They slid into the steps as if the whole thing had been choreographed.

“What I’m trying to do here,” Leo said immediately, speaking low so only Marie could hear, “is the royal version of throwing you over my shoulder and carting you away so everyone knows you’re mine.”

Yes, that’sexactlywhat it had looked like. The sensations she’dhad before, that she was about to float away, that she couldn’t get a breath in, started reversing themselves as they twirled, picking up speed. She felt strong and sure and calm. She knew these steps. She knew this man. “I love you!” she blurted. “I don’t want you to go home. Or if you’re going home, I want to go with you.”

Leo grinned. “I love you, too, Princess.”

“I was just on my way to tell my father that I’m not going to marry Max.”

The grin grew self-satisfied. “I think by now that point has probably been made. But just in case...” He pulled her against him abruptly, ending the waltz, breaking the frame that Monsieur Lavoie had drilled into them. His arms banded around her and his lips came down on hers, brushing a light kiss against them. He kept their bodies moving in a slow dance, like in the woods. She smiled against his lips as they swayed.

She could feel everyone’s attention on them. The silence in the ballroom gradually gave way to whispers, and then cheers—yes, cheers; how remarkable! She pulled her lips from his. He grunted like he wasn’t happy about that.

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