His Princess by Christmas Read online

  The picture of them kissing was one of the first to come up.

  Words like mystery woman, future king and hideout popped out at her. But that didn’t matter when other words were more pressing. Like her name. Her town. Her store. They mentioned May, but not by name, which was the only source of relief she had from the entire thing.

  If she had done this search before all of this had happened, she wouldn’t be in the papers or on the internet. May wouldn’t be a daughter, four years of age, father unknown.

  She regretted giving Kade privacy. She probably shouldn’t have—her intentions had been noble—but what did noble matter when her daughter was in danger?

  Damn it.

  Her heart cracked, emotion all about spilling out of it. But she couldn’t give in. She’d have to put on her rain boots, take out her umbrella and maneuver through it.

  Dear Reader,

  It always brings me a special kind of joy to write royal romances. That should have been enough, but I do love my drama (which, if you read my books, you already know). As such, this book has a twist on the secret-prince trope, a single mother who becomes said prince’s boss, and a royal scandal that forces my poor heroine into a world she never could have expected.

  Fortunately, she holds her own. It helps that the hero adores her, of course. Since I think we could all use that type of adoration in our lives, please enjoy Prince Kade’s complete and utter devotion to you. Oops—I meant to his heroine, Amari. ;-)

  I hope you’ll love them!

  Therese

  His Princess by Christmas

  Therese Beharrie

  Being an author has always been Therese Beharrie’s dream. But it was only when the corporate world loomed during her final year at university that she realized how soon she wanted that dream to become a reality. So she got serious about her writing and now writes books she wants to see in the world featuring people who look like her for a living. When she’s not writing, she’s spending time with her husband and dogs in Cape Town, South Africa. She admits that this is a perfect life and is grateful for it.

  Books by Therese Beharrie

  Harlequin Romance

  Billionaires for Heiresses

  Second Chance with Her Billionaire

  From Heiress to Mom

  Conveniently Wed, Royally Bound

  United by Their Royal Baby

  Falling for His Convenient Queen

  Tempted by the Billionaire Next Door

  Surprise Baby, Second Chance

  Her Festive Flirtation

  Island Fling with the Tycoon

  Her Twin Baby Secret

  Marrying His Runaway Heiress

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  To the princes in my life.

  I love you all more than I thought possible.

  Praise for

  Therese Beharrie

  “Wonderful! Therese Beharrie has a gift for creating real, evocative and hopeful romances that just make you feel happy. I finished this with a smile on my face. Highly recommended.”

  —Goodreads on Her Twin Baby Secret

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Their Royal Baby Gift by Kandy Shepherd

  CHAPTER ONE

  WHEN THE BELL attached to the door of her store rang, Amari Hayes didn’t immediately look up. She had some things to do before she officially opened. But being in a small town meant people didn’t pay attention to the rules very well. She had learnt that during the three and a half years she’d been a resident of Swell Valley.

  She’d also learnt it was fine for her to make her own rules. She finished what she was doing, then she looked up. And stared.

  And stared, and stared, and stared.

  He was tall. Tall enough that she had to lift her chin to make eye contact, which rarely happened since she herself was tall. That would have been enough to snag her attention, but he was also quite deliciously built. Strong and thick; the kind of body that could easily swoop her into his arms during an emergency.

  He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. Blue. The suit was blue. Normally, the colour of a suit wouldn’t matter. But this blue on this man was something special. It matched his brown skin perfectly and did something for his dark features. Heavy-set brows, the polite pull of his angular cheekbones, his lush mouth.

  It was ridiculous to make such superficial observations about a man, let alone feel a rush of...something, in her body as a result. He was a stranger. He deserved respect, not lust.

  It was interesting, that was all. She hadn’t had a feeling like this since...since her husband. Her ex-husband.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hello.’

  She got nothing else.

  ‘The store isn’t officially open yet,’ she said, trying not to shift her weight. ‘If you wait another five minutes—’ She broke off. He clearly wasn’t from Swell Valley, and it was pointless making him wait five minutes so she could, what? Get herself a cup of coffee? ‘What can I help you with?’

  ‘I’d like to speak with the manager.’

  ‘You already are.’

  ‘Oh.’ Surprise coloured his expression. ‘You’re the manager?’

  ‘I’m the owner. But those roles are interchangeable around here.’ She tilted her head. ‘Did you expect someone else?’

  His polite expression returned, but a light blush tinted the skin of his cheeks.

  ‘It was rude of me to show surprise,’ he said evenly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘For showing surprise, or for feeling it?’

  ‘Both.’

  She studied him again, but this time it had nothing to do with his appearance. It was that practised lilt of his voice. His measured tone that didn’t waver, even when he was surprised or embarrassed. The politeness that seemed to spill from his pores.

  They didn’t get many people like this in Swell Valley. The town was a stone’s throw away from Cape Town, its population about ten thousand, and everyone knew one another. That meant an authenticity that wasn’t practised, measured or polite.

  When Amari had first moved to Swell Valley, that level of comfort had bothered her. People had asked her about May, her daughter, as if May were their own. They would enquire about her well-being, about how she was getting on at day-care, about whether she’d overcome her cold. They would ask Amari if she was settling in okay, if she needed help with anything, and when was she going to find a partner to help her with all her responsibilities?

  The questions had felt invasive. She came from Cape Town, where people didn’t particularly care to ask questions unless they knew her. But the questions about May...those had put her back up. She was sensitive when it came to her daughter, no doubt. Being a single mother did that. Choosing a man who couldn’t accept the responsibility of being a father did that.

  But she had moved to Swell Valley to give May a different life. If she couldn’t give her daught
er a family, she would give her a community. Over the past three and a half years, she had learnt to accept what came with having a community. She must have come to expect it, too, if she couldn’t understand this man’s demeanour.

  ‘I’m here about the advertisement in the window.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘I’d like to apply.’

  For the third time in fifteen minutes, Amari stared. ‘You want to apply to be a festive worker?’

  The man lifted his chin. ‘I would, yes.’

  Her eyes travelled down his expensive suit to his expensive shoes and back up to what would no doubt be an expensive face had he ever thought to insure it.

  ‘You realise it’s busy work, right? Helping me stock shelves, assisting customers with their Christmas shopping.’ At his nod, she continued. ‘People will come in here and ask your opinion on what they should get their partners. Or their in-laws. Or their pets. Are you prepared for that?’

  ‘I’m not sure how to answer that. Am I prepared for the questions? Yes.’

  ‘Are you prepared to answer?’ This time, she didn’t wait for his nod. ‘If Mrs Hallow asks what she should get her husband, who works on a farm not far away from here, for Christmas, what would you say?’

  He opened his mouth, before closing it with a frown. She shouldn’t enjoy it, but it was quite fun to see him emote.

  ‘This store...it sells trinkets?’

  Amari looked around, took in the items. To an outsider, they probably did look like trinkets. Along the wall he was closest to there was a glass cabinet with jewellery. Most of it came from locals, as did the crafts that formed the shelf he stood in front of. It was waist high, same as the cabinet, though the shelves behind it, diagonally across the counter where she stood, were higher, and packed with craft materials, knitting material, books, stationery. At the counter, she put the brownies and fudge Mrs Hallow made daily that were delivered by her grandson every morning on his way to work.

  Trinkets, she thought again, to someone who didn’t understand the workings of a small town. Here, people appreciated being supported by one another. They wanted to support one another.

  This man wouldn’t understand that her business succeeded largely because she carried things locals made and provided things they wanted. He wouldn’t know that crafts was one of the most popular activities in Swell Valley, followed closely by knitting, and that many of the items she stocked were a direct result of those activities.

  She hadn’t expected an outsider to apply for the job. She’d expected a teen on school holiday. But she knew she was late, too. She’d lived in Swell Valley long enough to know that available teens had jobs secured months before Christmas. She had only recently become interested in having a festive helper, or she would have hired someone a long time ago.

  If only May had started asking questions about her father in September.

  ‘Sure,’ she replied evenly. ‘They’re trinkets.’

  ‘Then I would ask Mrs Hallow what kind of trinket her husband would like.’ He moved forward, stepping right under the air-con. It brought a wave of his cologne towards her. It smelled like power, like control. She shouldn’t have liked it. She did. ‘If he goes out to the farm, perhaps he’d like...this.’

  Amari didn’t allow herself the smile. For a second. After that, she couldn’t help it.

  ‘A tray?’

  ‘Oh?’ He leaned to examine the tray closer. ‘I thought it was sun protection of some kind.’

  ‘Sun...’ She frowned. ‘You’re joking, right?’

  An emotion she couldn’t identify dulled his expression. But a beat later it brightened again, as if someone had flicked a light switch. ‘Yes. Yes, of course it was a joke. I know people can’t use trays as sun protection.’

  Amari bit her lip. Before she could say anything, the door opened.

  ‘We got the Christmas stuff you ordered,’ Joe, her delivery man, said by way of greeting. ‘Lots of boxes.’

  ‘Oh, I can help,’ the man said eagerly.

  Amari thought about all the stuff she’d ordered. It was the end of November, and her shelves were barely stocked for Christmas. People would start to do their Christmas shopping soon, and she needed to be ready. And she would need help, too, if she wanted to spend more time with May.

  ‘Do I have a daddy, Mama?’

  She closed her eyes against the guilt that still flared days after May had asked the question. It had been innocent, and Amari had known it would come some day. But she still hadn’t been prepared. Her solution had been to distract May. She’d given a terribly inadequate answer and had suggested they bake cookies. May had been successfully deterred.

  But the more time May spent alone, the more likely she was to think up questions. Unpacking the boxes without help would mean a late night for Amari. May would be sleeping by the time Amari relieved the babysitter and in the morning, May would ask one million questions as was her habit. On the off chance one of those questions was about her father again, Amari needed to find ways to occupy May so it didn’t come to that.

  It was nowhere near a foolproof plan, but it didn’t matter. It made her feel as if she was doing something. Even something stupid, like hire a man who looked like a supermodel to work in her store.

  ‘Fine. You can help me today. We’ll use it as a trial period. If it works out, you can have the job.’

  She didn’t wait for his reaction. Only nodded to Joe to start bringing the boxes in.

  * * *

  Kade didn’t know if it was the quaint look of the store or the woman inside it that had made him walk through the door. It was probably neither.

  Rather, he’d needed a distraction from the calls that kept coming to his phone. His mother’s secretary, the royal communications officer. They knew full well that he was on leave, but that didn’t matter when they had the Christmas ball to plan. That was when they would announce the news of his mother’s abdication and the date of his coronation. Even walking the quiet streets of Swell Valley couldn’t ease the anxiety of all that.

  But distraction would.

  When he’d had the thought, he’d been right in front of the All and Everything store. His eyes had taken in the advertisement for festive help, then they’d rested on the woman inside. His decision had been made some time after that and he’d walked inside.

  He’d put his foot into it when he’d assumed she wasn’t the owner, and she’d rightfully called him out for it. His only excuse was that he’d been distracted by her beauty. A pathetic excuse if there was one. His mother would kill him if she knew.

  She certainly wouldn’t be surprised by the faux pas though. He made them far too often.

  Not now.

  Yes. He had time before he needed to think about that. Now, he had to deal with his guard, Pete, who he’d managed to convince to hang back when he’d gone inside the store. Of course, Pete had had no idea what Kade intended on doing. When the delivery man had arrived, Pete had appeared in the store, refusing instructions to leave.

  ‘You’re under my protection, sir.’

  Pete said it in answer to every reason Kade gave as to why Pete should leave him alone.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ the owner asked from behind him.

  Kade turned. It took him a moment to adjust to her face, which was what had happened the first time he’d seen her, too. Something about it had his breath catching, though her features were relatively unremarkable separately. The light brown eyes and hair of the same hue. The creases around those eyes, between her brows. Her lips weren’t full, nor were they thin; her cheekbones neither sharp nor rounded. But somehow all those features together created something quite remarkable.

  Even when they were pulled in disapproval.

  ‘None,’ Kade said smoothly. ‘This is my guard. He’d like to assist us.’

  ‘Your...guard,’ she r
epeated. ‘As in—a bodyguard? Why?’ She didn’t allow him to answer. ‘I mean, you do look like a man who would have a bodyguard, but I can’t quite marry that with a man who applied for a short-term retail position in a trinket store.’

  Kade pretended not to notice Pete’s surprise.

  ‘I’ll take those questions one by one. First, yes, a bodyguard. It’s part of the law of my kingdom that I have protection with me whenever I’m out in public. For this trip, I managed to negotiate one guard only, which I suppose explains his commitment to the job.’ Kade sighed. ‘As for the rest, you’re remarkably astute. The man who needs the bodyguard is not the same man who’d like to help you in your store. The former is a prince; the latter is just a man who’d like to distract himself until he’s needed back home.’

  He paused, giving her time to process.

  ‘Did I cover all your questions?’

  There was a short period of silence. Then she laughed.

  At him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘I’M SORRY.’ KADE interrupted the laughter stiffly. ‘Did I say something funny?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said between giggles. ‘You implied you’re a prince. Or said it outright, I guess.’ She wiped her tears. ‘A prince.’ She shook her head. ‘Wow. Your imagination.’

  ‘I assure you, these are facts, not my imagination.’

  The amusement slowly faded from her face. ‘You’re serious?’

  He didn’t dignify that question with a verbal answer, only a nod.

  ‘Well, Your Highness, I’m not sure what you’re doing in my store. I can’t afford to pay royal rates. Or whatever your rate is as an—’ she narrowed her eyes ‘—actor?’

  This time he didn’t even respond with a nod.

  ‘Okay, I’m not sure what you’re looking to accomplish,’ she said, serious now. ‘I’m the only person who works here. Usually, that’s enough. People around here are patient, and that patience extends when they consider you one of their own.’ The square of her shoulders told him that was how they considered her. ‘Over the holidays though, we get busy. People come from out of town. People in town want nice things. I need help to cater to them, and to get home to my daughter at night at a reasonable time. If this is a joke to you, and you don’t intend on helping me, please leave. I’ll find someone else.’