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  “Tell her,” Rory said. “Promise me that you will tell her who you are and why you have to return home and leave her behind.”

  Graydon didn’t turn around, but he nodded once, then went back toward the tent.

  It was Rory’s turn to put his hands in his pockets, and he fell back against a tree. His brother had just knocked the air out of him. His request that Rory exchange places with him wasn’t that unusual, as they’d been doing that all their lives. Graydon usually took over for Rory, and they’d done it as recently as a month ago when Graydon wanted an evening off from his duties. It always entertained Rory to see his straitlaced brother trying to be him. Graydon wasn’t one to drive a car at two hundred miles an hour or race a boat across choppy waters. “But it isn’t just me, it’s a whole kingdom I’m risking,” Graydon had said when Rory laughed at his brother’s seeming timidity. Graydon’s words had taken away the laughter. What he was saying was that Rory was expendable; Graydon was not. “UYB,” Rory had muttered. It was a term he’d come up with when they were kids. “Useless Younger Brother”—eventually abbreviated to UYB.

  Rory’s self-worth was further trampled when Graydon began to win over the girls. The last time this had happened, Rory had coaxed Graydon into having dinner with a girl he’d been dating for months. He wanted to go to a party given by his ex and he didn’t want to have to deal with his current girl’s jealousy.

  It was never easy for Graydon to get away from his bodyguards, but that night he’d managed it, and the exchange went off perfectly. Except that afterward, Rory’s girlfriend wanted him to be the way he was on the night of the exchange. “You were sooooo romantic,” she kept saying. “Remind me again what I did,” Rory said. She sighed in a dreamy way. “You played the lute, sang to me, and fed me those tiny grapes. You—” Rory cut her off and never again asked his brother to take his place on a date. He and the girl broke up soon afterward. “You’ve just changed,” she said when they parted. “There was one night when you made me feel like I was the center of the world, then it was back to … to being you.”

  Later, Rory asked Graydon what he thought of the girl. “Very pretty but not a brain in her head. Want me to get Mother to find someone for you?”

  Graydon was referring to Danna, who’d been chosen for the future king’s wife. Danna was tall and beautiful, sublimely educated, and the daughter of a Lanconian duke. She could ride a horse with perfect form, play the piano at concert level, host a formal dinner for two hundred with ease. As for her personality, she loved charity work, never forgot anyone’s name, and was always gracious and considerate. She never put a foot wrong or lost her temper with anyone.

  All in all, Danna was utterly and completely perfect, and she was to marry Graydon and become the next Queen of Lanconia.

  The only problem was that Graydon didn’t love Danna. He liked her well enough, but there was only friendship between them. But at thirty-one years old, Graydon knew it was time that he marry and produce an heir to the throne. As always, he took his duties very, very seriously. He wasn’t his brother; he couldn’t marry only for love. No, Graydon had to find a woman who could do all the things required of her as a princess and later as a queen. Hours of standing, smiling endlessly, being deeply involved in charity work, et cetera. The woman had to be as dedicated as Graydon was, and in this modern age that was nearly impossible to find.

  Rory looked across the moonlit landscape. He could hear the band inside the tent beginning to make sounds of rock ’n’ roll. Could his brother even dance to that? Graydon was more of a waltz man than a down and dirty rocker.

  The truth was that Rory knew his brother could handle the change quite easily. He’d have a few problems but nothing could stop him for long.

  The true problem was going to be Rory’s. He knew he could put his shoulders back and carry himself like his brother. Unbending, inflexible, he could put on that I-will-be-king look that Graydon had perfected.

  No, the problem was that Rory had a secret so deeply hidden that even his brother didn’t know it. Rory was totally and absolutely in love with the woman his brother was going to marry.

  He moved away from the tree and stood up straight. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he was going to do whatever he could to make this exchange happen. A few days with Danna were better than none at all. And the first thing Rory was going to do was see if he could clear a path for Graydon by getting rid of the roommate. Rory had been told that she worked for Roger Plymouth, a man he’d met several times. Maybe they could work out something.

  As soon as Toby saw the inside of the little tent, she knew what the man was after. The question was why she had ever doubted his intention.

  She stood there looking at the table with a cloth that went to the floor, lit candles, chairs that were draped in misty blue fabric, and she thought, Scene for Seduction. As she stepped back, she glared up at this man she had begun to think was such a nice person. “No, thanks,” she said, her voice as cool as the scene was warm. She started back toward the big tent where she’d be surrounded by people—not seducers.

  When she was about twenty feet away, she heard him say, “Now what did I do wrong?” She took another couple of steps and meant to go on, but she stopped and turned to look at him. He was still standing by the tent and there was an expression of absolute bewilderment on his face.

  She walked back to him. “What have you heard about me?”

  Graydon blinked at her a few times. He’d assumed that she’d walked away because someone had told her that Graydon was a prince and she wanted nothing to do with him. When women outside his country found out that he was royalty, they went either of two ways. They ran away, or their eyes lit up and they started asking how many crowns he owned. It looked like this young woman was a runner.

  But if so, why was she asking what he knew about her? “I don’t know much about you at all,” he said, his voice conveying his consternation. “Your name is Toby. You are a friend of the bride and the other bridesmaid. I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that. Should I have asked someone about you?”

  Toby was beginning to be the one who was confused. “If you know nothing about me, then why all this?” She motioned to the tent. The flap was still open, with candlelight wafting over them.

  “Oh,” Graydon said, seeming to at last understand. “You’re thinking like an American.”

  “How else could I think?”

  “Miss Wyndam, again I apologize. I have no ulterior motive with this dinner than to sit at a table and eat in peace, perhaps with some intelligent conversation. I would have asked my brother to join me, but you are prettier than he is, and you haven’t eaten, so …” He shrugged. “I must tell you that I have now apologized to you more than I have collectively in the entirety of my life.”

  Toby couldn’t help but smile at the last part of his little speech. “Do we Americans often confuse you?”

  “Endlessly,” he said. “You wouldn’t possibly reconsider and join me for dinner, would you? My brother is not happy with me at the moment and he wouldn’t be good company.”

  “All right,” Toby said, and stepped inside the tent. She was beginning to feel that from their first meeting she’d been too harsh with this man.

  He held her chair out for her, then took his. “May I?” he asked as he picked up a large spoon and fork and motioned to serve her. “What should I know about you that would cause you to refuse to dine with a man?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly, but he kept looking at her and waiting. While he looked somewhat like Jared, whose skin was always tan from spending time on his boat, she had an idea that this man’s skin was naturally darker. “Some of the boys on the island—and I do mean boys—have started trying to … to see who can, well, I guess you could say, win me.”

  “I see.” He put scallops on her plate. “What is that American phrase? To ‘lure you astray’?”

  She smiled at the old-fashioned term. “Yes, that’s what they’ve tried to do.” She help