Princess Thief: Stealing Your Heart Read online

  Princess Thief: Stealing His Heart

  by Jennifer Enander

  * * *

  She’ll be his royal bride — or she’ll be his prisoner!

  Juliette Thierry is a pretty, sweet florist by day; but at night, she becomes The Robin Hood Robber – a master jewel thief who takes from the extravagant aristocracy and gives to the orphanages in her poor country.

  When the devilishly handsome Prince Guillermo catches her in the act, he gives her a choice: a year in jail or a year in… marriage?!

  Follow the twists and turns in this delightful story filled with suspense, surprises, and romance!

  Princess Thief: Stealing His Heart

  Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Enander

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Except for use in any review, no part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the expressed written consent of MGTIP Publishing LLC, 2360 Corporate Circle Ste 400, Henderson NV, 89074-7722, USA.

  Toshokan Press is a wholly-owned subsidiary of MGTIP Publishing LLC.

  For more information on this book or the author, contact the publisher at:

  MGTIP Publishing LLC

  2360 Corporate Circle Ste 400

  Henderson NV, 89074-7722

  USA

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  “Excuse me, sir? Sir?”

  Guillermo woke from a deep slumber to find someone shaking his shoulder.

  “Sir, are you Prince Guillermo of San Morrando?”

  Guillermo slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on his cot in a tent deep in the bush of North Africa. His stethoscope lay on the makeshift nightstand next to the cot. Next to his stethoscope, a mirror reflected his image back at him: tousled jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, two days of unshaven stubble covering his handsome suntanned face.

  The person with his hand on his shoulder was a young man of no more than 19 years old; red-faced, covered in sweat, looking very nervous, dressed in the uniform of the San Morrando Royal Guards.

  Guillermo’s eyes suddenly widened as he realized what the guardsman just said. “Please, don’t use that name here!” he whispered emphatically. “You are to address me as Dr. Valdivia. For my safety, as well as yours.”

  The young guardsman slumped to the ground. “So it is you,” he breathed. “Thank God we’ve finally found you.”

  Guillermo’s professional instincts took over. He rose from his cot, lifted the lid on the water barrel, filled the wooden ladle, and handed it to the guardsman. The thirsty guardsman nodded to him gratefully and drank it down.

  Guillermo peered through the opening of his olive green canvas tent. There was the barest glimmer of light outside. He guessed it would be just before dawn, 6:00 AM. The air was still cool and smelled of fresh dew.

  “Sir,” the guardsman handed the ladle back to Guillermo, “there’s been an accident. I’m to bring you back to San Morrando immediately.”

  Guillermo quickly filled the ladle with more water, then handed it back to the guardsman. The man gulped it down. “Take your time, son. Tell me what happened.”

  “Sir,” the guardsman said, “the king is dead.”

  “The king?”

  “Yes, sir. And his son, too.”

  “Oh, no,” Guillermo whispered. Then, as he realized the full weight of the young guardsman’s words, he gasped, “Oh, my God, no!”

  I’m going to be the king?!

  “We have to leave right away, your highness,” the guardsman rose. “Your country needs you.”

  Six hours later, Guillermo was safely back in his home country of San Morrando, situated on the coast of the Mediterranean between France and Spain. As his limousine wound slowly up the Pyrenees Mountains towards the capital city of Morrando la Vella, Guillermo gazed out the window and marveled at the beauty of his country. Beaches to the east, snow capped mountains to the west, and in between a lush, fertile valley.

  After what seemed like an eternity to him, the Palais d’Or finally came into view in the distance. Located on the banks of the icy cold Rivière Bleu and surrounded by luxurious grounds full of trees and acres of green grass, the Palais d’Or was a beautiful castle: two stories tall, with four turrets, one on each corner. Built in 1858, Palais d’Or was a modern replica of the original castle built by the French centuries earlier, in 1252. The ruins of the original castle could still be found a hundred yards east of the new palace; little more than a few waist-high walls now. Further east of the old castle ruins sat the thoroughly modern royal stables complete with an oval practice track.

  The limousine slowed briefly as it approached the front gate; a royal guardsman waved the car through and saluted as it passed. Despite everything that had happened, despite the deep misgivings for what was to come, in his heart Guillermo felt good to be home.

  Armand Trouard, the king’s personal valet, was waiting by the entrance of the castle. As the limousine came to a stop, Armand smartly stepped forward and opened the door. “Prince Guillermo, sir, it is good to see you.”

  “Armand,” Guillermo grasped the man by the shoulders and smiled briefly, then grew serious. “Can it be possible?”

  “I’m afraid so, sir,” Armand replied. “Shall we go inside?”

  As Guillermo and Armand walked into the castle, two of the maids began weeping; one of the maids cried out in anguish, “Prince Guillermo!” Guillermo gave a reassuring smile to the two women, then followed Armand into the King’s Study.

  Guillermo slumped into the first chair he saw, exhausted. He looked up at Armand. “What happened?”

  “A hunting accident, sir,” the royal valet responded. “A bear attacked Prince Javier. The king rushed to his defense and managed to kill the bear with a knife, but he was mortally wounded and died at the site. The prince succumbed to his injuries two days later.”

  “Two days? Just how long has it been?”

  “We’ve been looking for you for 10 days now, sir.”

  Guillermo whistled softly. “I was so deep in the jungle, I honestly had no idea.”

  “The funeral was yesterday. Quite a few heads of state attended. It was very dignified. However, the aristocracy is in a bit of a panic, as you might imagine.”

  “I’ll bet. We should issue a statement that I have returned.”

  “I shall attend to it. Might I suggest a brief appearance on tonight’s news?”

  “Later, please, Armand. Let me get my bearings.” Guillermo leaned back in the plush leather office chair and sighed. “Do you know how long it takes to gain a foothold in North Africa?”

  “I would imagine quite a long time, sir,” Armand replied with a sympathetic smile.

  “Do you know how long I had to work to become a pediatrician?”

  “If I recall correctly, it was seven years, was it not?”


  “Seven long years.” Guillermo pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged slowly.

  “You are only 31, sir. And after a year, you can rejoin the humanitarian effort in Africa.”

  Guillermo opened his eyes and leaned forward in his chair. “So, you’ve realized it, too?”

  Armand nodded. “If your sister, Princess Sofia, were 21…”

  Guillermo continued the thought, “I could simply abdicate to her immediately after my coronation. But since she’s only just turned 20…”

  “You will have to assume the throne for at least a year. There is no other way,” Armand stated.

  Guillermo exhaled deeply. “Well, what are we going to do about that other little requirement?”

  “Surely there’s someone, sir?”

  “It’s a little hard to meet anyone in the jungles of North Africa.”

  “I see.” Armand looked lost in thought for a moment, then shook his head.

  “What is it, Armand? Do you have an idea? Please, even if it seems ridiculous. Otherwise, I’ll have less than three weeks to find a bride!”

  “Well, it occurs to me that… Well, what I mean to say is, what if the marriage was also for only one year?”

  “A royal marriage for a year? That would be absolutely ideal! But is there a woman who would agree to such a thing?”

  “Well, there is one possibility, but it’s something of a long shot…”

  Juliette Thierry pushed her right hand through her long black wavy hair as she walked to the front corner of the little flower shop. “Can I help you?”

  The customer, in his forties, was holding his young daughter’s hand. He turned, then blushed bright red, seeing the 25 year old stunning beauty with a radiant smile standing next to him, her simple yellow dress showing off her ballerina-like figure. “I- uh-”

  “Daddy, who’s the pretty lady?” the man’s young blond daughter looked up and asked.

  Juliette squatted down to the child’s level and smiled. “Hi. I’m Juliette.”

  The little girl smiled shyly and looked at the floor. “Go ahead, sweetie,” her father gently urged her. “Introduce yourself like we practiced.”

  “I’m Tiffany. Pleased to meet you,” the little girl managed.

  “Hi, Tiffany. Do you like flowers?”

  Tiffany nodded.

  “Well, how about a flower for your pocket? It’s on the house.” Juliette reached into the pot of chrysanthemums in front of her and expertly snapped off the stem, leaving just enough to fit into the front pocket of the little girl’s dress.

  “What do we say?” the father asked.

  “Thank you,” Tiffany said sweetly.

  “Oh, you’re adorable!” Juliette smiled. She stood up and asked the father, “So, have you decided?”

  “Well, it’s for my wife. I, well, you see, that is, I sort of forgot our wedding anniversary.”

  “Ohhhh,” Juliette said. “I think you’re going to need some roses.”

  “Roses?” he asked.

  “Yes. Red roses, in fact. Shall I get you a dozen? Don’t worry, they’re on sale. Oh, and you’d better get your wife some chocolates, too. If you go 3 shops down on your left, you’ll find the candy store.”

  “Candy!” Tiffany yelled happily. The two adults laughed.

  Juliette wrapped up the roses and added some miniature white baby’s breath for emphasis. After completing the transaction, she slowly walked the couple to the front door.

  Suddenly, a man rushed into the shop from the back; handsome, mid-fifties, with kind eyes, his beard and hair almost half-brown, half-gray. “Juliette! I must speak with you!”

  Juliette didn’t respond. Instead, she smiled at her customers and said, “Have a nice day. I hope your wife likes the flowers.” She then winked at the little girl and gave her a wave. The girl smiled and said, “Bye,” in a cute, singsong tone.

  Once her customers had reached the sunny sidewalk outside, Juliette locked the door behind them, then flipped the sign hanging in the window to read “Closed.”

  Finally, she turned to face the man who had rushed in from the back of the store. “Uncle François,” she smiled warmly, “it’s so good to see you. How was your trip to Spain?”

  “It was fine. We sold out all 5 shows — but never mind that! Is it true? Are you the florist for the Royal Ball?” François demanded.

  Juliette smile was coy. “Yes.”

  “And only that? Only a florist?”

  “Well…”

  “Ah! I knew it!” François threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “Ma chère, you cannot go through with this.”

  “Calm down, uncle, please, let me explain.”

  “No. I will not hear of it.” He shook his head. “It is too dangerous.”

  “Uncle, will you please listen to me?” Juliette trained her big brown eyes on her uncle. He melted — just like she knew he would.

  “All right, all right,” he sighed. “Show me.”

  “Good!” Juliette beamed at him, then practically skipped across the shop to her uncle, giddy as a schoolgirl. She hugged him tight. “You won’t believe how lucky this is. The floor plan layout is perfect, the security is practically non-existent, and the necklace is flawless.”

  He wrapped his arms around Juliette and gave her a big bear hug. “You know, I lie awake some nights and ask myself, ‘how did my little girl become an international jewel thief?’”

  Juliette smiled up at her uncle. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  Chapter 2

  Juliette reached underneath the cash register and pulled out a rolled-up poster which she then spread out flat on the counter, revealing a hand-drawn blueprint. “This is the first floor layout,” she told her uncle. “I sketched all of this while I was consulting at the castle over the last three days. Here is the ballroom and here, on the other side of the castle, this is the gem room.” She tapped the blueprint with her index finger.

  “Security?” François asked.

  “That’s the beautiful part. The Royal Guard is entirely focused on keeping people out of the mansion. There is screening at the front gate and your credentials are inspected at the entrance to the castle - but once you’re inside, the security is practically non-existent. Can you believe they don’t have a single security camera inside the building?”

  “Well, the royal family is notoriously private. What about the gem room?”

  “The gem room has the bare minimum of deterrents - the windows are wired with an alarm and the most valuable pieces are behind heavy glass. But the piece I want is practically lying out on the table. It’s perfect. Here, let me show you.” Juliette logged into her smartphone, pressed the screen a couple of times, then showed the picture to her uncle.

  “You must be kidding. It’s online?”

  “All of the Crown Jewels are. Isn’t it wonderful? It cuts my prep time in half.”

  François took the smartphone from Juliette’s hand and began reading. “Ah, I remember this necklace,” he nodded. “’Le Collier de Couronnement,’” he began quoting the website. “’The necklace consists of 23 graduated cushion-cut emeralds set in silver with gold links, and a large 18 carat pendant emerald known as the Bogotá Esmeralda.’”

  Juliette explained, “The gems are large enough to be valuable but small enough that they won’t have to be cut into pieces to be untraceable. The necklace itself is on the low end of the royal collection so there’s a chance it might not even be missed for days.”

  “It’s a good piece,” François admitted. “The main stone may give us some trouble but the other 23 stones should be easy to sell.”

  “Think about it, uncle: this necklace is one of the least valuable of the royal jewels and it’s still worth nearly 150,000 U. S. Dollars.”

  “Yes, well, remember - the necklace itself may be worth that much, but the stones alone will not be. Still,” he considered, “we may get as much as forty thousand for them; fifty thousand, if we can get them to Paris.”

  “Fifty th
ousand!” Juliet exclaimed. “That’s a fortune for the orphanage. We can feed the kids for 6 months and still have enough left over to buy a new roof!”

  François regarded his niece fondly. “Ma chère, you have done so much for the orphanage. Everyone is so grateful. But this,” he gestured towards the blueprint and the smartphone, “this is a whole new world. Do you understand? This is the royal castle. This is not some silly old noblewoman in a drafty countryside mansion with so many jewels that she doesn’t know what to do with them all. This is Palais d’Or. You will be stealing from the royal family.”

  “Oh, uncle, you’re living in the past. Royalty doesn’t mean anything anymore. They’re just rich people. They’re a bad reality television show, that’s all. ‘Oooo, who will be the next king?’ Oh, who cares!”

  “Ha!” François laughed. “Imagine this - coming from the girl who had such an intense crush on Prince Guillermo.”

  Juliette waved her hands as if shooing away a fly. “Uncle, I was thirteen. Every 13 year old girl has a crush on Prince Guillermo.”

  François’ smile faded. “Seriously, ma chère, this theft is on an entirely different level than what you are used to. Are you sure you can do this?”

  “I-” Juliette hesitated. “Uncle, I have to try. The orphanage needs that money so desperately. When I think about it, my heart aches.”

  François frowned. “Whenever you get that look in your eye, I know I’m beaten. All right, ma chère, you have my blessing. Just please, promise me, you’ll be extra careful.”

  Juliette smiled, threw her arms around her uncle’s neck, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You won’t regret it. You’ll see. It will be as easy as pie. I promise.”

  * * *

  Three days later, Juliette was back at Palais d’Or preparing for the Royal Ball.

  The day got off to a rocky start: the shipment of red carnations from Barcelona wasn’t delivered until noon. Consequently, Juliette and her three employees were two hours late arriving at the castle. To complicate matters, her employees were all teenage girls on their first trip to Palais d’Or; Juliette had to spend a good chunk of her time reminding the wide-eyed, awestruck girls to focus on their work.