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I Married A Prince
Kathryn Jensen
SECRET BABY HEIR TO THE THRONE!How could a small-town librarian with her nose in books - not the tabloids - know that the man she'd fallen for years ago was literally a prince? Or that their love child was heir to a royal throne? All Allison knew was that his seductive charm had turned her from a girl into a woman… .TEMPORARY PRINCESSUnable to forget her, Jacob returned for one last taste of Allison's sweet lips. When he discovered his son, he proposed a temporary marriage of convenience to save his family from scandal. By law, Jacob was not allowed to marry a "commoner." But he was determined to bend the rules and make Allison a permanent princess by Christmas… .
“You Make A Breathtaking Princess,” Jacob Said. (#uc32681be-1f99-5dfd-8da0-ae87b1e0c87a)Letter to Reader (#u628de1e7-5900-55e0-8417-4faa03d403ec)Title Page (#ua031e7ab-2d99-534a-97a2-e2e147c215a6)Dedication (#u163f1839-1126-56dd-b64d-287e0df235ff)About the Author (#u8f37b7fb-9b92-5974-92ba-9d748310515d)A Note To My Readers (#u22cdf5fb-e07e-590c-b3cd-7e2e0e190b5a)Chapter One (#u05c731fd-811e-536d-9746-5c0efe658b4c)Chapter Two (#u4db2d1d6-5b09-5243-8cf5-f8fdbbecd0f7)Chapter Three (#u0f331ca9-e933-5774-b62b-e0c519cba42e)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“You Make A Breathtaking Princess,” Jacob Said.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
Allison’s glance snapped up defiantly to meet his. “You wanted me to marry you for a purpose, to clear the way for your future. I’m still just a small-town librarian who’s playing a role in a little melodrama you and your advisers have cooked up.”
“You’re far more than that.”
He had to remind himself that he couldn’t tell her everything—not now, not until he’d worked out every complex detail.
In a way, he realized he was being selfish again—but this time he felt no guilt. He was determined to get what he wanted, and he was willing to risk everything—his father’s approval, his countrymen’s love, Allison’s treasured independence...perhaps even more.
Dear Reader,
Happy Holidays to all of you from the staff of Silhouette Desire! Our celebration of Desire’s fifteenth anniversary continues, and to kick off this holiday season, we have a wonderful new book from Dixie Browning called Look What the Stork Brought. Dixie, who is truly a Desire star, has written over sixty titles for Silhouette.
Next up, The Surprise Christmas Bride by Maureen Child. If you like stories chock-full of love and laughter, this is the book for you. And Anne Eames continues her MONTANA MALONES miniseries with The Best Little Joeville Christmas.
The month is completed with more Christmas treats:
A Husband in Her Stocking by Christine Pacheco;
I Married a Prince by Kathryn Jensen and Santa Cowboy by Barbara McMahon.
I hope you all enjoy your holidays, and hope that Silhouette Desire will add to the warmth of the season. So enjoy the very best in romance from Desire!
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
I Married A Prince
Kathryn Jensen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Lucia Macro and Cristine Grace, my editors, who love prince stories as much as I do...and gave me a chance to tell this one. My deepest thanks for your wise guidance and priceless suggestions.
KATHRYN JENSEN has written many novels for young readers as well as for adults. She speed walks, works out with weights and enjoys ballroom dancing for exercise, stress reduction and pleasure. Her children are now grown. She lives in Maryland with her husband, Bill, and her writing companion—Sunny, a lovable terrier-mix adopted from a shelter.
Having worked as a hospital switchboard operator, department store sales associate, bank clerk and elementary school teacher, she now splits her days between writing her own books and teaching fiction writing at two local colleges and through a correspondence course. She enjoys helping new writers get a start and speaks “at the drop of a hat” at writers’ conferences, libraries and schools across the country.
A Note To My Readers
Although the country of Elbia, her citizens and Prince Jacob are products of my fantasy-loving imagination, real monarchies, castles and handsome princes do exist in our modern world. Liechtenstein’s Hereditary Prince Alois is a tennis buff and resides in beautiful Vaduz Castle. Monaco’s Crown Prince Albert—who is into judo, fencing and theater—has a reputation as a charming playboy. Luxembourg looks to His Royal Highness Prince Henri, an avid sailor and music lover, for guidance into the next century. He lives in the breathtaking Château of Fischbach. Denmark’s Crown Prince Frederik, passionate about skiing and driving fast cars, attended Harvard University in the U.S. The Netherlands, Spain, Norway, Belgium and Sweden also boast dashing royals. They all possess vast fortunes to share with the lucky women who steal their hearts.
One
Time was running out, and Jacob knew it.
In all the world, there was precious little his money couldn’t buy. Happiness itself had seemed within his purchasing power. He’d used the von Austerand fortune for twenty-nine years to satisfy his whims, lusts, real and imagined needs. Now the fun was coming to an end.
“Damn!” he growled, crumpling the message and letting it fall from his fist into the blue-gray water lapping the hull of the sleek motor yacht. A brilliant orange September sun was already halfway up a cloudless sky. It beamed down on the snug cove nestled in the Connecticut shoreline, where the Queen Elise had anchored the night before.
“Bad news, Your Royal Highness?” a voice colored by a deep British accent asked from behind him.
“The worst, Thomas. The worst.”
“The king? He’s had another stroke, has he?”
Jacob swung around to face his bodyguard, who doubled as chauffeur, private secretary and self-proclaimed social adviser. Thomas was also his closest—some claimed only—true friend. Anger frothed up inside Jacob. The heat generated by his turbulent mood made his head hurt far worse than the hangover he’d woken with should have.
“My father is in better health than most of his cabinet—better than I am, at this moment.” He gingerly pressed the heel of one hand to his forehead, as if to hold its contents securely in place.
“I’ve prepared a pitcher of Bloody Marys in the galley, Your Royal Highness. Shall I bring it?”
“Knock off the �Your Highness’ crap,” Jacob snapped. “You only do that when some reporter is around to hear, or when you’re irritated with me.”
“As you wish, Sir,” Thomas said with a shadow of a smile. “Shall I bring the beverage?”
“No.” Jacob shook his head, then groaned at the wave of dizziness the motion produced. “No, it will wear off soon enough. Black coffee would be better.”
When Thomas returned with a steaming mug of fragrant dark java, Jacob took a quick sip, then three more...and the world seemed to steady itself. Somewhat. They stood for a while as crew members in white T-shirts and canvas pants bustled around them, then finally disappeared below the polished decks of the Queen Elise. The luxurious two-hundred-foot, ocean-going yacht had been a present from his father for his sixteenth birthday. Whenever Jacob could get away for a while, it was his chosen home. But this morning it seemed little comfort to him.
“You deserve that hangover after last night,” Thomas commented dryly, as he stood at the rail, smoking a thick black cigar.
“I suppose.” Jacob sighed. Aside from his father and Frederik—the old man’s chief adviser, who had been with the family since before Jacob’s birth—Thomas was the only person who wasn’t intimidated by Jacob’s money and title. Thomas never pulled punches. And his father never gave up when he wanted something.
What the King of Elbia now wanted...no, demanded, was that his only son marry by Christmas, only months away now. Just because he, Karl von Austerand, had been forced to wed before his thirtieth year and his father before him...and his grandfather before that. For over five hundred years the crown princes of Elbia, a tiny European country even smaller than Liechtenstein, had dutifully followed the laws of succession. Now it was Jacob’s turn, and he viewed the prospect of a political marriage as medieval idiocy, a trap he had always somehow meant to elude. But now the time had come...and there seemed no way out that wouldn’t cost him his inheritance.
“He’s sticking to his guns, Thomas,” Jacob muttered, gripping the polished brass railing until his knuckles ached. He leaned over the yacht’s side to watch white-tipped swells lap the hull. “He says I’ve had plenty of time to choose a suitable wife. That—” he gestured to where the sheet of paper had submerged “—was his latest list of young ladies he deems equal to the task of becoming Elbia’s next queen.”
Thomas stepped to the young prince’s side. “You knew this day would come. This is no surprise.”
“Yes. But it always seemed so far away...before now.”
“As the sole heir to the throne of Elbia, you must provide an heir,” Thomas said softly. “If the von Austerand line were to end...your country would perish.” Thomas had always been and would always be an Englishman, but he nevertheless acted protective of his employer’s homeland... just as he felt protective of his employer.
Jacob raked a hand through his glistening black hair and glared at the beach. He knew what Thomas said was true. He’d been tormented for most of his adult years by guilt at the thought, but his natural willfulness fought tradition.
A pearly gray-and-white seagull swooped from the sky and soared above them on a warm air current, rising effortlessly with it. Jacob’s thoughts wheeled with the bird. He had ordered the yacht to anchor late the previous night in Long Island Sound, after dropping off the last of his guests this side of New York City. Something had drawn him back to this place. Something had made him want to come here again, if only to be alone for a little while and watch the sun rise from this familiar curve of sand and rocks called Nanticoke Bay.
A slender ribbon of peace stretched over his frustration and anger. His grip relaxed on the handrail. The tension knotting his neck slowly released. He breathed in the salty air.
The geography was so different here from landlocked Elbia. The tiny eastern European country had survived German aggression during two world wars and Russian intimidation in the cold war that followed. Elbia, like Monaco and Liechtenstein and only a handful of other modern countries, remained a monarchy, an anachronism in today’s high-tech world. As Thomas had so wisely stated, only his country’s traditions separated her from becoming absorbed by larger countries or falling into impoverishment. She offered little in the way of valuable resources. She had no oil, no diamonds, no major crops or industries. Her borders included neither a port on open water nor easy access to other rich lands. But she did possess spectacular lakes, breathtaking mountains and ancient castles of unparalleled magnificence. Tourism kept Elbia alive, but without the glamour of the royals and the glitter of the many annual events in her capital city to attract the thousands of visitors who came each year she would be ruined.
Jacob pressed his fingertips against his temples and closed his eyes. “The bottom line is, the king says I must return and take a bride. Immediately. That piece of paper listed his personal top ten choices.”
“And?” Thomas asked, an amused lilt in his voice.
“I want none of them.”
“If they are the same young ladies your father has mentioned before, each is quite agreeable. Of royal blood...well-moneyed families...socially flawless...Several are quite beautiful.”
“Then you marry them.” Jacob waved an impatient hand. He finished his coffee and tossed the mug down on a chaise that had been occupied by a New York actress with exceptionally long legs and a willing smile the night before. “They leave me cold.”
“Nevertheless, you’ve had...shall we say, relations with several of the ladies, I believe.”
“I’ve slept with dozens of women in nearly every country in the world,” Jacob stated flatly. “Having sex with a woman doesn’t make her someone I’d want to live with for the rest of my life.”
Thomas laid a hand on the prince’s shoulder. His calm tan-colored eyes observed him from above rotund cheeks and a tidily trimmed Henry VIII beard. “Other men have fulfilled far more distasteful obligations on their countries’ behalf,” he commented gently.
Jacob nodded. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve always understood my duty, and I intended to do it when the time came. But now that it’s here—damn it, I can’t! I don’t know why, but I can’t.” He hesitated. “There was one...once...but she—”
“One? A woman?” Thomas’s eyes brightened.
“Yes. She was special. She was...” What exactly had she been to him during that summer over two years ago? The American girl with the enormous blue-green eyes and hair that had flowed like pale champagne to her shoulders. She had been sweet, simple, loving—and he had found himself utterly charmed by her. No woman had affected him so deeply before or since.
But she was a commoner—and an American on top of that, which was even worse in his father’s eyes. Jacob had known, even as they’d lain in each others’ arms, he’d have to leave her. It had been the hardest single moment of his life, walking away from her bed that night. Just leaving. Without so much as a goodbye. Without explaining to her who he really was and why he couldn’t stay with her.
He’d been a physical and emotional mess for weeks after. But then he’d returned to school and forced himself to concentrate on his studies, which were grueling at the graduate level, and the months had passed. He’d survived.
The only problem was, his relationships with women had changed in a troubling way. More than two years after he’d left her, he still didn’t feel in another woman’s arms the sweet and total satisfaction he’d found in hers.
Jacob turned his gaze on the stony line of beach, glowing amber in the autumn sun. The water was still warm enough for swimming, but it wouldn’t be for long with winter approaching.
“This woman,” Thomas began cautiously. “Is she why we came here last night, when it would have been easier to dock in Greenwich?”
Jacob scowled. He dropped his head in a reluctant nod. “Her name was Allison,” he whispered. The sea breeze pulled the syllables from his lips, whisking them away. He hadn’t spoken her name since the night he’d left, but he’d thought of her often. Too often.
“Is she not a possible wife?” Thomas asked.
“No.” Jacob let out a raspy laugh. “She was as far from princess material as any woman could be. My father would never allow it.”
“I see.” Thomas drew a deep breath. “Do you intend to see her again?”
Jacob squinted at the row of beachfront cottages, so perfectly New England with their white clapboard fronts, breezy porches and dark green storm shutters. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I need to see her just once more. Then I’ll stop obsessing about her, comparing other women to her. She couldn’t be as...” He struggled to put his thoughts into words. “I don’t know what she was any more. She’s just clogging up my mind with ridiculous thoughts!” He lashed out angrily, bringing his fist down violently on the brass rail in front of them. “She’s unfinished business, Thomas. That’s all she is. I’ll find her—she lives in Nanticoke. One more time, just to get her out of my blood.”
“You mean, you’ll have another affair with her?”
“If that’s what it takes,” Jacob snapped. “Then I’ll return to Elbia and decide what must be done.”
It hadn’t been the worst day of her life, but it hadn’t been the best, either.
When Allison Collins had left for work that morning, little Cray was running a fever and crying fretfully, clinging to her as she tried to escape through the front door. Her sister, Diane, had her hands full with her own three kids—trying to get two of them off to catch their bus for school, while dressing the third. Within a few minutes her three day-care children would arrive, and she’d have a full house again. Tending a sick fifteen-month-old baby wouldn’t make her day any easier.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t leave Cray with you when he’s like this,” Allison apologized.
“Don’t start on the guilt trips again,” Diane said. “He’s just going through a clingy stage. I’ll give him some Tempra and he’ll be fine ten minutes after you leave.”
“I don’t know, maybe I should take the day off and keep him at home.” That sounded so good. More days than not, it was what Allison wanted to do anyway. Every time she left Cray, she felt as if a vital part of her were being torn from her body. She missed being with him, but what was a single mom to do? She was lucky Diane had been willing to add him to her houseful of little ones at half her usual fee. Day care was so expensive, and a librarian’s salary in a matchbox town like Nanticoke didn’t go far.
Their parents had moved to Florida, when they’d retired five years earlier, leaving the beach house to Allison. She felt grateful for being able to stay there. She still had to pay taxes on the property and manage utilities, food, clothing, medical bills and other necessities. Somehow, she squeezed out the pennies and stayed out of debt—but just barely. She wouldn’t have minded all that much. It seemed a lot of families had to struggle to make ends meet, these days. But she never felt as if she had enough time for Cray, and that she did mind.
At least they had a roof over their heads, she reflected. And Cray was a healthy, normal baby. Perhaps that was why leaving him when he wasn’t feeling well was so difficult for her. He didn’t seem himself. She felt like a heartless witch for deserting him when he needed her.
Finally, she extricated herself from Cray’s chubby fingers and made a dash through the kitchen. Before the storm door slammed shut, she could hear his wails of protest. Biting down on her lower lip, she threw herself into her little compact car and fled.
Her morning story-time group of elementary school children was waiting for her in a circle on the carpet when she arrived. She snatched up the two books she’d prepared the previous day and read with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, still exhausted from being up most of the night with Cray.
After the children left, she switched to her other job—cataloging new contributions to the library’s collection of first editions. A few hours later, she covered for other staff members during their lunch breaks. Afternoons, following school dismissal, were always busy. The children’s corner often turned into an informal baby-sitting service when parents dropped off their kids and left to do errands. It was a practice the staff was trying to stop, since youngsters left unattended sometimes got out of hand and required supervision from staff members who should have been helping patrons locate books or research materials.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, Allison was barely able to see through the dense cloud of fatigue that enclosed her.
“You look beat,” Miriam, one of the senior volunteers, remarked as Allison passed her at the checkout desk.
“All I want to do is pick up my baby, go home and sit on the porch with a tall glass of iced tea,” she murmured without slowing down. She didn’t even have enough energy for a decent conversation.
Tripping wearily down the library’s steps, Allison watched the worn granite slabs pass beneath her feet. Chips of color—quartz, feldspar, obsidian, she thought vaguely. Home...just get me home, car. She hoped she had enough gas.
“Alli?”
She froze where she stood on the bottom step. A flash of ice replaced the warm blood flowing through her veins. But her cheeks immediately flamed up. She didn’t need to lift her eyes to place the rich baritone colored with the faintest Germanic and British overtones. Her heart crawled into her throat. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth before the cry of dismay working its way to her lips could escape.
Only after taking four controlled full breaths, did Allison dare look up...and up...and up into the blue-black eyes of the man standing in front of her. “Hello, Jay,” she said, amazed at the control she was able to exert over her own voice.
He smiled.
She frowned.
“Not happy to see me?” he asked.
“Why should I be?” she clipped out. Stepping to one side, she tried to dodge around him, but he mirrored her side step, effectively blocking her path to her car.
He stood there, looking confident and handsome in casual tan chinos that hugged his hips and a turquoise golf shirt. The muscles of his chest stretched the fabric when he drew a deep breath.
“We were pretty good friends once,” he pointed out. His eyes teased, reflecting hidden meanings she understood all too easily.
Lord, she thought, after all these months, how can he make me feel like this? “That was a long time ago,” she stated crisply. “Now I have to get home.”
His glance dropped to her left hand, then flashed back up to her face, looking satisfied. “I see you haven’t married, either.”
“Why should I?” She faked to the left. He fell for it. She slipped past him and sprinted for her car, calling over her shoulder, “I can just keep on having meaningless affairs with guys like you! Great sex, no commitments, no responsibilities.” She didn’t care if she sounded bitter. She wanted to make him go away. Forever.
She was running now, and so were her thoughts. They rushed at her, in troubling abandon as she bounded across the parking lot. Why had he come back? Why? Just when she thought she’d moved on to another part of her life—one without painful memories of him and how it had felt in those heady, wonderful weeks he’d stayed with her at the beach house. What a fool he’d made of her!
She reached her car, jammed the key in the lock. A wide hand sprinkled with dark hair fell over hers, stopping her from turning the key.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I swear, if you—”
He immediately lifted his offending hand and held it up for her to see, as if demonstrating its innocence. “Fine. I won’t touch you. I just want to talk.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She spun around and glared at him. “Why not? We were lovers for nearly two months, Jay! Then you pulled a disappearing act. Or don’t you remember?”
“I remember,” he said softly. For a second, she thought she saw a tender radiance lighten his dark eyes. But before she could be sure, it was gone. He looked hardened, determined again.
“Then you also must remember that you didn’t leave a note, you didn’t tell me you wouldn’t be back the next night, you never said goodbye. You just walked out of my life.” She fixed him with a challenging glare, daring him to deny any of it.
“I...” He shrugged and let out a halfhearted laugh. “Guess I didn’t know how to say, �so long.”’
“Yeah, right,” she snapped. Shoving him hard in the chest, she took advantage of his startled attempt to regain his balance. Allison swung open the car door and dove into the steamy interior. The sun had been strong all afternoon, heating up the closed vehicle, and the air-conditioning hadn’t worked in three years. The ride home would be stifling, but at least she’d be on her own turf, where she could pull herself together.
“Alli, stop!” His angry shout rocked her, even through the barrier of glass.
Instinctively, she cringed, as he yanked open the door and hauled her into the sea air as easily as if she’d been a sack of groceries. She was shaking as he backed her against the car, then stood so close she couldn’t maneuver to break free again.
“What do you want from me?” she shouted, her voice breaking as tears clung to her pale lashes.
He had already taken so much from her. He’d been the first man she’d ever let touch her like that. Her first love. Her only, to this day. And he’d left her carrying his baby inside her. The heartbreak of his desertion had been almost too much for her to bear.
Unloved. Abandoned. He’d left her alone, to care for a fragile life—the baby they’d created on an amorous night on the beach, when she’d believed with all her heart that he loved her.
After he left and she discovered she was pregnant, she’d made the necessary decisions and preparations, and kept herself busy. She told herself if she could just get through that one year, she could handle anything life threw at her. She hadn’t bargained on ever again having to face the man who had done his best to destroy her life.
“I just want to do something nice for you,” he said stiffly.
Something told her he’d practiced that line. Suspicious, she squinted up at him. “The nicest thing you can do for me, Jay, is stay out of my life.”
“Uh-uh.” He shook his head; the breeze off the ocean caught the one stray black curl over his forehead and played with it. His shadowed eyes fixed steadily on hers.
She was terrified that their closeness was exciting him. She contemplated screaming for help, then dismissed the idea. Something about the little-boy glint in his eyes made her slightly more curious than afraid.
“Walk with me on the beach,” he said. “I have something to tell you. I guarantee you’ll like it.”
She sighed and cast him a rueful glance. “Is this the only way to get rid of you?”
“Only way.” He grinned.
“I must be out of my mind,” she mumbled. “All right. Ten minutes walking on the beach, then I’m out of here. And so are you.”
“I’ll let you decide about that after I’ve had my say,” he said, stepping back to let her move away from the car. “Hey, wait up!”
She was already sprinting across the road, toward the beach. He had to take enormous strides to keep up with her energetic pace. She was used to speed-walking for exercising, while pushing Cray’s stroller ahead of her. And now she felt the urge to move, fast.
The beach hugged Long Island Sound and formed a cupshaped cove along the coast, sheltering tidal pools of periwinkles, miniature crabs and silvery fish smaller than her little finger, among clumps of shiny green and brown kelp. Soaring gulls and sea terns pecked among glassy-smooth pebbles, wave-polished fragments of colored glass and chunks of artfully deformed driftwood. At this time of year, all the sunbathers had left.
Allison breathed in the air, thick with brine. The cries of the sea birds nearly drowned out the steady slosh and scrape of the waves on the stony beach. As always, the ocean had a calming effect on her, taking her temper down a notch and returning a portion of her sanity. I don’t have to let this jerk rattle me, she told herself. I can simply tell him the time we spent together was fun but I’m not interested in taking up where we left off.
Why give him the satisfaction of discovering how much he’d meant to her?
She could even be a little creative, claim she had a boyfriend. Or tell him she was married and had a baby...No, she couldn’t do that! She wouldn’t dare give him enough information to let him guess the truth.
Allison stopped halfway between the sidewalk and the ocean, her body trembling at the thought of how close she’d come to making a horrible mistake. It was dangerous to tell him anything of what had happened after he’d left. She stared down at the damp grains of sand, then braced her fists on her hips and looked out across the water, hoping he’d say what he’d come to say quickly. Two sailboats played among the white caps offshore. The marina, in the next cove, was full of pleasure boats, large and small. In another month, nearly all would have been pulled out for winter storage. Anchored a little apart from the other craft was a long, low white ship that must have been three times the size of the largest yacht in the marina. It floated majestically, barely moving on the water, as if unconcerned with waves or wind.
“Oh, my,” she let out, unintentionally.
He stopped behind her. “She’s something, isn’t she?”
Allison nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that big in Nanticoke Cove.”
“She’s called the Queen Elise. She can cross the Atlantic a whole day faster than the QE2.”
Allison let her glance drift downward from the immense yacht to stare at the wavelets rippling closest to her feet. “You’re full of it, Jay.”
He laughed out loud this time. “What?”
“You heard me. You have no idea what the name of that ship is. You’re just experimenting with another pickup line.”
“I’m not, Alli. Honest.”
“Baloney!” She couldn’t help sounding spiteful now, couldn’t pretend to be callous and modern about relationships. “Two years ago, you told me you were a graduate student on summer break. You claimed you were studying for your master’s degree in political science at Yale.” New Haven was less than an hour’s drive to the east, along the coast of Connecticut, so his story had seemed reasonable to her.
“I was.”
“Don’t lie, Jay!” she shouted, spinning around to face him. Her rage nearly made it impossible for her to form words. “You never were a student at Yale,” she choked out. “I know because I checked.”
He stared mutely at her.
She was close to tears now, as she remembered how desperate she had been to contact him. Even if he hadn’t wanted to come back to her, she’d wanted to tell him about the baby. She’d been so confused, so frightened and alone. But he hadn’t been there for her. In the end, all she’d wanted was to let him hear her decision—that she intended to keep their child. Maybe he had somehow guessed he’d impregnated her, and that was why he’d left. But on the more likely chance that he hadn’t known, her strong sense of fairness demanded she tell him that he was going to be a father. Then he could make his own decision about taking on the responsibility or not.
“Shut up!” Allison said when he started to open his mouth. “I’ll save you the trouble of asking. I called the college registrar’s office and argued with three different clerks, insisting there must be a Jay Thomas in the student body. But they said no one under that name was registered.”
He looked more amazed than angry. “You did that? You actually tried to track me down?”
She glared at him.
“Ouch,” he said, and looked out at the water.
“You deceived me, Jay. You used me. All you wanted was a summer fling. And I was too naive to guess that what we were doing could be that ordinary and simple.”
“I’m sorry,” he said tightly. “That’s one reason I came back...to apologize for the way I treated you. I want to make it up to you. Come out with me for dinner.”
She threw up her hands, veered away from him, and started marching down the beach. She was so angry she could have strangled him. Or better yet, put a blunt instrument to good use.
“Incredible,” she muttered to herself. The man steals your heart, relieves you of your virginity, and ditches you after getting you pregnant...then he wants to buy you a meal and make nice. She knew she couldn’t have said another word to him, she was so furious. The words would have vaporized like steam from her lips.
“Alli!” he shouted after her. “Listen to me!”
She ignored him, kept on walking, the sand sifting into her shoes, between her toes, making each step feel gritty and slow-motion awkward.
A hand roughly gripped her arm, taking her by surprise. She hadn’t heard him chasing her. She recovered and faced him, her shoulders ratcheted back, her eyes brittle with emotion, seething with hatred. But her chin trembled, giving her away. She blinked back hot tears.
“Listen...” he hissed at her, and started to say something more. But he changed his mind and quickly bent down to press his lips over hers.
The heat and intensity of his kiss shocked her. It was the last thing she’d expected from a runaway boyfriend who’d lied his way into her heart, then disappeared without a trace. Why was he doing this to her?
Allison was trembling from head to foot when his lips finally brushed away from hers. His grip on her wrist loosened, but he closed his muscular arms around her in a warm embrace. She thought for a brief moment how strange his body felt, wrapped around hers, as if he was holding himself up as much as he was restraining her from running away again.
He kept her there, pinned tightly against his chest, as he began talking in his perfect English with the almost indistinguishable hint of an accent that had intrigued her from their first meeting. “Please just let me explain and try to do this right, for a change.” He didn’t wait for her response. “Yes, I lied. But not about being a grad student at Yale. I was enrolled there...under a different name.”
“Your name isn’t Jay?”
“My American friends sometimes called me that. Occasionally, it suited other situations. My name’s Jacob.”
“Jacob,” she repeated, feeling the need to test out the sounds. The name suited him, although why, she couldn’t have said. “Jacob Thomas?”
“No.” He hesitated, and she sensed a growing tension in his neck and arms, as if he was having second thoughts about continuing. “Do you read the gossip columns in grocery store tabloids?” he asked.
She blinked up at him, wondering what one thing had to do with the other. “No, why do you—”
“What about newspapers?”
“The front page and local news, occasionally. I don’t have a lot of reading time with—” She stopped herself from adding, with a full-time job and an infant to raise.
He sighed and adjusted his hold on her, and she began to wonder if he actually feared she’d take a swing at him if he released her. “Promise you’ll let me finish.”
She felt like screaming. “Just say what’s on your mind, Jacob, or whoever the hell you are, and let me get on with my life!”
He took a deep breath that she could feel through her ribs, pressed against his.
“My real name, my entire legal name as it appears on my birth certificate is—His Royal Highness, Jacob Phillipe Mark von Austerand, Crown Prince of Elbia. That yacht out there is mine, and I want you to have dinner with me on it, tonight.”
Allison closed her eyes, feeling numb from head to toe. She said nothing, didn’t move an inch. After a minute Jacob dropped his arms and stepped back to observe her expression. She focused on the strong angles of his face, which seemed perfectly composed and serious. Pursing her lips, she folded her arms over her chest and smiled sweetly up at him.
He tentatively lifted one corner of his lips in response.
“And I am Queen Elizabeth,” she stated calmly. “Get a life, Jay.”
Before he could reply, she was jogging up over a sand dune, toward the road. The last she saw of him, he was staring after her, a stunned expression on his handsome face.
Two
Crown prince, indeed. “A college grad like you ought to be able to come up with a better line than that!” Allison huffed as she threw herself into her car and drove toward Diane’s house.
Maybe she’d hang around for an hour or two, help her sister with the day-care kids. She had been exhausted when she left the library, but her fury had energized her. If Cray was feeling better, she could give Diane a hand with the chores. Besides, delaying her return to the beach house might be wise. If Jay was feeling particularly pigheaded, he might try to intercept her again at her home. She didn’t think Jay...Jacob...whoever, would remember where her sister lived.
Allison pulled up in front of the tidy driftwood gray Cape Cod three blocks back of the water and halfway across town. She didn’t lock the car, but on second thought took the keys with her. Nanticoke was a small, peaceful town, but she didn’t believe in tempting fate or some teenager looking for a joyride. Just last week, two fifteen-year-olds too lazy to walk to school had “borrowed” her neighbor’s car. The police had found it parked in the high school parking lot. Dumb kids.
She let herself in through the kitchen door without knocking, plucked an apple from the red plastic bowl on the table and bounced down the cellar stairs to the finished rec room where Diane spent most of her days with her charges.
The children were clustered around her, sitting on a mat on the floor, while Diane read to them from a picture book with a comical bear on the cover. Allison crossed her ankles and lowered herself to the floor, munching on her apple, feeling her pulse slow to a calmer pace. Cray spotted her and pushed himself up from the floor. He toddled over, grinning and chattering unintelligibly, and trustingly dropped into her lap.
Allison wrapped her arms around her little boy and hugged him, rocking back and forth. “You make everything all right, you know that?” she whispered into the feathery tufts of dark hair above his ear.
He gurgled contentedly as she swept stray bangs off his forehead. His skin felt cool and the feverish glaze over his eyes was gone. She was relieved to see him looking better.
After the story was over, Diane deposited each child in a high chair. Allison helped her pour juice and pass out pretzels for a final snack of the day. She felt herself gear down another notch and chuckled softly. Times like this, she thought, a girl really has to keep her sense of humor.
“What’s so funny?” Diane asked.
“Hard to explain,” Allison replied, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“Try me.”
She drew a long breath. “I saw Cray’s father.”
Diane dropped the bag of pretzels. Crumbs scattered across the playroom floor. “Jay?” Her cheeks flushed red and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “That creep. The nerve of him crawling back now. What does he want?”
“I’m not sure,” Allison said, thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t trust him under the best of conditions. But he told me a weird story about his being a prince and living on a yacht.” She laughed out loud. “Prince of Elbia! You’d think he could come up with something more believable, if he wanted to impress a girl.”
Diane stooped to pick up the plastic bag that had split down one side. “Elbia? Isn’t that the postage-stamp-size country near Austria that’s been in the news lately?”
Allison shrugged. “Who knows. I don’t have time to keep up with international politics these days. Every spare moment I’ve either been cataloging the new books or taking care of Cray. Last Sunday, I even took him with me while I worked overtime.”
“Wait here,” Diane said. “Pass out another round of goodies, if there’s enough.” She shoved the bag into Allison’s hands.
A minute later she was back downstairs with a broom in one hand, a full pitcher of juice in the other and the New York Times tucked under one arm. She set down the pitcher and broom, and spread the paper on the table. “I know I heard something about a meeting at the United Nations, an Eastern European coalition...something like that.” She frantically flipped pages while Allison looked over her shoulder, wondering if her sister had gone mad. “The president was going to meet with delegates. One was this young...” She stopped flipping and pointed triumphantly at a photograph in the middle of the right-hand page. “There. Crown Prince Jacob von Austerand. Gee, I would never have connected him with some grad student from Connecticut but...” She wrinkled her nose, considering. “Alli, he does look a lot like Jay...with a couple of years under his belt.”
Allison snatched up the newspaper section. She stared at the black-and-white UPI photo of three men in expensive business suits. The tall wide-shouldered one shaking hands with the President of the United States was Jay, no doubt about it.
Her eyes dropped quickly to the caption, and she read it out loud. “Prince Jacob von Austerand of Elbia congratulates the president after his speech before the Eastern Unity Conference on Tuesday.”
“The creep,” Diane muttered, picking up the broom to sweep violently at the tile floor. “Egotistical playboy. People with money make me sick. They think they can do anything they want...doesn’t matter who gets hurt.”
Allison frowned at her sister, trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle, for which she seemed to have only half the pieces. Now that she focused on the scraps of news she’d heard over the radio or glimpsed on TV, she remembered hearing things about a playboy prince. He’d been linked romantically with Hollywood actresses, wealthy socialites, even one female rock singer. Was that Jay...Jacob? If so, how had she fit in with all those glamorous women?
“I—I can’t believe he’s who he says he is,” she stammered, her voice rising in panic. “Diane? How could I not have known? The man’s a public figure...a celebrity!”
Diane stopped sweeping and patted her arm. “Why would you know? Even if someone recognized him, he could easily pretend he just looked like the prince. Apparently, he likes playing games with women. He has a pretty wild reputation, you know.”
“I know...of course, I know. He’s right up there with the Kennedys and the British royals.” Allison suddenly felt deflated, hollow inside. She shook her head. “So I was just another amusing affair for him....”
“Apparently,” Diane said, using a wet cloth to wipe crumbs from a toddler’s chubby cheeks. “Hey, consider yourself lucky. Now that you know the truth, it should be that much easier to put the jerk out of your mind.”
“He was out of my mind, until he showed up at the library today.”
“Was he? Out of your mind, that is.” Diane cast her a skeptical look. “It’s not like you’ve been dating anyone else in the two-plus years since he disappeared.”
“That’s not because I’m hung up on him,” Allison insisted. “I just have to be more careful who I see, now that Cray’s around.”
“Right.” Diane rolled her eyes. “So, are you going to see him? Jacob?”
“Are you crazy? Of course, I’m not going to see him. There’s nothing that could make me set foot on that yacht or anywhere else he happens to be.”
The doorbell rang at precisely 7:00 p.m. that evening. When Allison answered it, a man in a brown deliveryservice uniform was standing on her front step, holding a large box in front of his face.
“Yes?” she asked, certain there had been a mistake. She hadn’t ordered anything by mail recently.
“Miss Allison Collins?”
She frowned, for the first few seconds unable to place the voice. “Jacob?”
He lowered the box and rested his chin on it, to gaze at her with a wicked smile.
“What are you doing here?”
“Delivering a package,” he said simply. “It’s pretty heavy. I’d better bring it inside for you.”
He pushed past her into the living room, stopping to look around when he reached the middle of the room. “Cozy. I remember your colonial decor—not bad reproductions.”
Allison trailed after him, sputtering her exasperation. “Get out of here this minute! Take whatever’s in that box with you.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t want me to do that,” he responded and set the package down on her mother’s rock maple coffee table. “You wouldn’t have anything to wear to the party tomorrow night, if I took it away.”
She planted her feet at shoulders’ width, folded her arms across her chest, and glared at him. “What party?”
“The one I’m throwing on the Queen Elise tomorrow night. You’re invited.” He removed the stiff-brimmed uniform cap and combed his fingers through thick black waves. “Aren’t you going to open it?” He nudged his chin toward the box.
Allison lost her last strand of self-control. “No!” she shouted, rushing at him. “I want you out of my house...out of my life...out, out, out...now!”
He fell back a step, observing her as if she were a rare animal, recently captured but not yet identified...and certainly not tamed.
“Out!” she screamed.
A piercing wail rose above her voice.
Oh, no, she thought. Not now, Cray. Why hadn’t she been more careful to keep her voice down?
Jacob turned toward the hallway, his eyebrows arched, questioning. “What’s that?”
Allison thought of a half dozen lies on the spot. It’s my sister’s child; I’m baby-sitting. That’s the neighbor’s baby. The TV is on in the bedroom. None of them worked.
“That’s my son,” she said finally. “Now, if you’ll leave, I’ll go and take care of him.”
Jacob scowled. “Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”
“I’m not.”
“I see.” He took a step back. Somewhere among the planes of his face, a hardness grew and solidified. “I should have known a pretty woman like you wouldn’t be alone for long.” His eyes wandered toward the hallway. “That doesn’t sound like an infant’s cry.”
“Cray is fifteen months old, if you must know,” she said without thinking. Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. The man wasn’t stupid.
“Fifteen months?”
She followed the tiny motions of his eyes, which grew faster by the second.
“I’d like you to leave now,” she said stiffly, desperate to get him out of the house, away from her son. She was having trouble breathing. “I have to get Cray settled down for the night. He hasn’t been feeling well.”
“Who is the father?” Jacob asked, his voice taut with emotion.
Allison leveled her sternest look at him. “That is none of your business. Go. Leave!”
The levels of emotion that crossed Jacob’s face were more frightening than any words he might have spoken. Instead of turning toward the door, he lurched forward, stopping inches from where she stood. His hands shot forward, vised her shoulders. He glared down at her, his eyes hot, bright chips of obsidian—blacker than black.
“I’ll leave after you tell me the name of the father.”
“Maybe I just don’t know.” She couldn’t help baiting him. He deserved it, didn’t he?
“I’m supposed to believe that around the time we were together, you were sleeping with a handful of other men, too?”
“Why not?” she challenged him. “I could have been.”
His hands tightened painfully on her shoulders. “You’re not that kind of woman.”
Cray was still crying from the back room, but no longer urgently.
“How would you know?” she said, her eyes falling away from his, despite her determination to give as good as she got. “You didn’t hang around long enough to get to know me.”
“I knew you well enough, Alli.” Jacob bent over her, capturing her eyes once more with his. “I knew you inside and out—every inch of your body, every corner of your sweet, generous soul.”
In one quick move, he released her shoulders but enclosed her in his arms. She could feel the heat of his body through their clothing. His lean, hard strength met her soft curves. He pressed her to him, and she could feel that he was aroused. Knowing that embarrassed her.
But not enough to make her struggle to be released. Some secret need or inner force kept her from fighting him. It had been so long, so very long since a man had held her. There had been a few dinners or group movie dates, arranged by Diane or one of her girlfriends. But she hadn’t encouraged a second meeting or allowed herself to be alone with a man. Now she realized how much she’d missed the intoxicating sensations that were rushing through her body.
Cray’s cries had turned to sleepy whimpers. She wished he’d let out a long, hearty scream to give her an excuse for breaking out of Jacob’s arms. She wished she had more willpower than she seemed to have at the moment. She wished...wished that Jacob would stop doing whatever it was he was doing.
His thumb stroked the side of her breast through her cotton sweater. Fiery tongues licked through her, making her knees feel weak. “Don’t do that,” she whispered.
“Tell me the name of the baby’s father?” Jacob said, his voice rumbling in his chest, vibrating against hers.
“I—I can’t.”
“You can’t. That’s different from you don’t know.”
Allison felt incapable of accomplishing anything more demanding than continuing to breathe in and out. And she wasn’t too sure she could keep that up for much longer. She was powerless to mold her thoughts into words.
“I can’t, Jay...Jacob...don’t make me...”
“Make you what?” His lips were less than an inch from hers. She could taste the spicy tang of his breath passing between them, smell subtle traces of male perspiration, feel a tension within his body that seemed to radiate through his skin and slip beneath hers.
She closed her eyes, steeling herself with a moment of darkness and silence, shutting herself off from him visually, although she felt him all around her.
“Jacob, he’s all I have. You left. Please stay away. I can’t deal with this.”
She felt all the strength rush out of the man. His hands dropped away from her and he stepped back. “My God,” he breathed. “He is my child.”
Her eyes flew open in sudden terror. “No! He’s mine, just mine and no one else’s.”
Jacob stared at her as if he still didn’t believe what he knew in his soul must be true. “Someone is that child’s father. Let me see him. I’ll know.”
“No!” she shouted. “Get out. Get out or I’ll call the police. I swear I will!”
He reached out for her, but she dodged away. A terror unlike any she’d ever experienced raced through her, blinding her to all thoughts but one. If Jacob was who he claimed to be—the man whose picture Diane had showed her in the newspaper—he had power and money enough to do anything he wished. Anything.
That included taking her child away from her, if he could prove he was Cray’s father. Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that she might be in real danger of losing Cray. She’d believed all she had to fear was another bruising to her heart and pride.
This was worse, far worse.
“Listen to me, Alli,” Jacob begged in a hoarse whisper. “No one is going to hurt you or that baby. You have my word.”
Maybe it was because she heard a subtle undercurrent of fear in his voice that she felt comforted. She kept her distance but turned toward him. His dark eyes looked sad, confused. This was all new to him. As he stood there, he must have been absorbing the various concepts attached to fatherhood, one at a time, but very rapidly. She’d had fifteen months to become comfortable with being a mother.
Jacob spoke to her again, his voice uneven. “I’m not going to hurt you again. I’m sorry. I didn’t know...didn’t realize—” He let the unfinished thought go. He turned his head away as if uneasy with meeting her gaze. He blinked at the wall and held himself rigid in the middle of her living room unsure of which way to move, or whether he should move at all.
Allison reached out one hand and touched the arm of her couch. Slowly, she let herself down onto a lumpy cushion, then dropped her head into her hands. “If you mean what you say about not hurting me, you’ll leave now,” she whispered dully.
“Is that really what you want?”
“Haven’t I said so a dozen times?” she moaned. “Just go away...and don’t come back.”
She heard him pacing the carpet, cursing beneath this breath. She sensed him standing over her, studying her...and she kept her eyes closed, her palms pressed over her eyes, blocking him out as best she could, as she prayed he’d do what she asked.
But when the door closed with a faint, irrevocable click, Allison felt something fragile shatter inside of her.
“Jacob?” she whispered, dropping her hands and staring at the door. “Jacob?”
The rental car was a shiny white Lincoln Continental—plush, smelling new-car pungent, richly upholstered in buff-colored butter-soft leather. Its luxurious interior contrasted sharply with the simple, homey furnishings of Alli’s beach house.
Jacob had stood helplessly over her as she collapsed onto the cheap plaid upholstered couch, which looked like something older people might have bought decades earlier and left with the house. Or maybe it was one of Alli’s yardsale treasures. He actually didn’t remember it from the summer they’d spent together.
But now he was unable to get the damn colors of the room out of his head. Shades of rust and gold matched the mustard-colored carpet that looked carefully maintained to last another twenty years. Nothing he’d seen in the house was of any real worth, except for a few pieces of antique porcelain displayed on a sideboard. The whole lot would have brought a couple hundred dollars on the auction block—less than the cost of the hand-tailored silk shirt he wore.
Back when they’d been together, she hadn’t seemed so different from him. They both loved books. They talked endlessly about their favorite kinds of music, art, literature. She daydreamed about traveling to foreign lands. He’d played along, promising to take her wherever she wanted—Rome, Vienna, Paris, Madrid—not letting on he’d already been to all the places she dreamed of visiting. And she’d laughed at him, never suspecting that he had the power to do all that he said.
Today, she seemed to him to come from another world—one where people proudly pinched pennies to afford new slipcovers, one where a two-bedroom single-bath cottage was large enough to raise a family with three or four kids. One where a young woman’s pride and love were worth more than any amount of money.
On top of all that—the existence of the child was a total shock. He had always been so careful. Hadn’t his father’s closest adviser, Frederik, constantly stressed to a young prince the dangers of unprotected contact with young women? He must have been no more than twelve years old the first time he’d suffered through the lord counselor’s tedious lecture. But soon it had come to make more sense to him. Not only was health an issue, there were vast financial and dynastic considerations.
If a young woman appeared on the castle’s doorstep with a baby, claiming it had been sired by the crown prince...at the very least, the world press corps would have a field day. But if she could actually prove the child was Prince Jacob’s bastard, all hell would break loose in Elbia. She’d have to be paid off, and handsomely. A million dollars to silence her and support the child wouldn’t be too much.
Jacob understood that his father, his cabinet and royal advisers wouldn’t object to his sowing his proverbial oats as long as he did so discreetly, with no embarrassing repercussions. During his late teen years and throughout his twenties, he’d had frequent opportunities to practice discretion. He quickly learned that money and fame were powerful aphrodisiacs. Women were more than willing to share their bodies with him, just to say they’d slept with a real prince. And he was generous during his brief affairs. He bought his lovers expensive gifts—jewelry, cars, expensive clothing. One charming lady had even merited a profitable boutique on the Rue de la Seine in Paris, in return for a few months’ companionship. If they were at all disappointed when he left them, they didn’t complain. His parting gifts had a consoling effect.
Alli had been different.
The day in June when he’d met her on the beach, he’d somehow sensed she wasn’t the kind of girl to be impressed by a title or seeing a lot of cash thrown her way. There was a quality about her that transcended the world he’d come to know. She smiled, and his heart warmed. She laughed, and he felt life was simple and free of the stifling obligations that awaited him back home in Elbia.
Alli loved books and worked in a library. Books had been his only friends as he’d grown up in a cold, friendless castle overlooking the valley of his homeland. He felt good around her. He felt like a normal man—not someone whose destiny was determined at birth, who had no choice in career or home or mate.
He had chosen her for a few weeks of love and friendship and he’d been so happy living in her world, if only for that short time.
Unlike all the other times, he had not told his mistress who he was. He was sure that if he had, Alli wouldn’t have become involved with him or allowed him to stay. For then she’d understand he couldn’t remain with her, even if he’d wanted to. That was where he’d most cruelly deceived her. He’d known she was falling in love with him. He’d known he was going to have to hurt her. But he hadn’t been man enough to stay and see her tears when he said goodbye.
As he thought about these things, Jacob started the car and began driving. He didn’t pay much attention to where the road was taking him until he steered into the marina’s parking lot. He left the car for the valet to park, waved down the launch and climbed aboard. He pointed at the Queen Elise, then stood in the bow, ignoring the pleasant chatter of the young man who piloted the water taxi to the larger ships anchored offshore. All the while, Jacob kicked himself for looking up Alli again.
Before today, he’d been haunted by her in ways he couldn’t have explained to himself and wouldn’t have even tried to rationalize for Thomas, Frederik or his father. There had been women after Alli, but they hadn’t excited him as she had. Thoughts of her had unexpectedly come to him at the worst possible moments—interfering with his ability to enjoy intimacy or make important decisions that would affect his future.
By seeing her again, he’d hoped to put his head right. Get her out of his system, as he’d told Thomas. She’d be fifty pounds heavier and totally out of shape. She’d have married a brute of a trucker with a pierced nose...be saddled with two whiny brats who, sadly, resembled their beerguzzling dad.
But she wasn’t any of those things. She was as sweet and innocent and perfect as when they’d been together. And she turned him on something fierce whenever they touched, even more so when they’d kissed. He wasn’t over her, he thought dismally. Not by a long shot.
But far worse, he’d learned he had a son. And that was a problem he couldn’t walk away from.
Alli might swear to him that she’d never make the paternity of her child public knowledge, and she probably would keep that promise. But what if some snoopy reporter got hold of the information despite her vow of silence? What if someone close to Alli decided there was money to be made by selling her secret?
All of that aside, Jacob didn’t know if he could be low enough to turn his back on a child he’d created. Just the thought of having a son drew emotions from him he didn’t know he had. Pride...concern...responsibility...The others were far too confusing to even begin to analyze.
He slumped against a crate being ferried to one of the boats in the cove as the sleek launch zipped between expensive pleasure boats, heading for the one that dwarfed all the rest, the Queen Elise. He remembered he hadn’t taken Alli’s package with him, then shrugged. What did it matter now? Whether or not she accepted his gift or came to his party was the least of his worries.
Alli stood over Cray’s crib, looking tenderly down at her son as he napped. A wave of such intense emotion washed over her, its force nearly knocked her off of her feet. She loved the little boy, as any mother loved her child. But now she feared for him, as she feared for herself.
Jacob.
Why had he come back?
He had acted surprised when Cray started crying in his bedroom. Had that reaction been an honest one? Or had he known all along that she had given birth to his child?
An icy shiver curled through her. Of course, a man like Jacob had all sorts of ways of keeping track of people. What if he’d been informed of Cray’s existence many months ago? What if he was only now getting around to coming to Connecticut to claim his son?
The possibility terrified her.
But there was something wrong with that reasoning, she told herself. If having a son meant anything to him, why had he waited so long? Why hadn’t he shown up while she’d been pregnant? During those trying emotional months, she’d been at her weakest. She’d been so very afraid she wouldn’t know how to take care of a child, and wouldn’t be capable of supporting herself and Cray on her meager pay. If Jacob had known she was about to have his baby, why hadn’t he shown up then?
Maybe he was up to something far worse than she’d imagined. He wanted something from her, or he wouldn’t have come back. Until she knew exactly what that was, she wouldn’t be able to protect herself or her son from him.
After draping a light blanket over Cray and touching his fuzzy little head one last time, Allison slowly made her way out to the kitchen at the back of the house. She brewed herself a cup of hot tea and took it into the living room. There, on the floor, sat the large dark mauve box Jacob had brought earlier.
Allison sat on the couch, staring speculatively at the unmarked package while she sipped her tea. I don’t care what’s in there, she thought. It’s going back.
But how? she asked herself. She could pay someone to take the thing back to him on his stupid boat. But why should she go to the expense when money was already tight? What she should do was shove the unopened box in the trash. That would show him!
But the thrifty New Englander in Allison wouldn’t allow her to throw away a perfectly good...perfectly good what? What would she be throwing away?
She glared at the box, imagining something evil and threatening lurking inside the innocent-looking but interestingly colored cardboard. Pandora’s box—the classic tease. Why was he doing this to her? Had he intentionally left the thing to torment her, knowing she couldn’t stop herself from opening it?
Acting on impulse, Allison set her mug on the coffee table and stood up. She approached the box warily, from the side, as if afraid something alive might leap out of it at any moment, baring its fangs at her. Reaching down, she slipped her fingers inside one flap and tore the box open.
Three
Her hands trembling, Allison bent back the four cardboard flaps, then parted layer after layer of distinctive rose-and-gold tissue paper. She recognized the color and pattern of the wrapping materials. They had come from a posh Manhattan clothier. She and Diane had once dared each other to walk through the elegant etched-glass doors, and Diane had treated her to a silk scarf for her birthday that cost twice as much as anything in Allison’s closet.
Breathlessly, she reached beneath the crackling sheets of tissue and touched something soft, silky, fluid. She lifted the fabric. Suspended from her fingertips was a pale peacock blue dress of delicate tucks and flounces. It was the most beautiful garment she’d ever seen.
She was furious.
“You son of a—” She stopped herself, remembering Cray, who was within hearing range.
But this dress!
It was both a bribe and a slap in the face. Apparently, Jacob had intended for her to wear his gift to his party. He thought that by giving her something expensive he could persuade her to do whatever he wanted, just as he’d bribed, seduced and sweet-talked countless other women into bed. To him, it was a reflex. Like snapping his fingers to summon a waiter. Come here. Obey me!
But this was far, far worse, because in a way he was also saying he doubted she’d have anything decent to wear among polite company. Or—she wouldn’t have the sense to dress appropriately for one of his high-society soirees.
Opening her fingers, she let the delicate silk layers drift through them and back into the box. “I’ll show you, Your Royal High and Mightiness,” she hissed.
Jacob stood in the bow of the Queen Elise, a chilled martini in one hand, a cigar in his other, observing another load of guests as they stepped excitedly from the launch onto his yacht. The ship was already brimming with smartly heeled party goers. Some he recognized from his visit to the UN on behalf of his father. Others were local politicians, journalists and CEOs of businesses interested in opening offices in Elbia. One man was a playwright who currently boasted two hit musicals and a comedy on Broadway. They drank freely of his champagne and nibbled politely from trays of hors d’oeuvres circulated by servers from the sole caterer in Nanticoke.
Not one among the beaming faces that gushed with greetings for him and wished good health for his father, the king, was Alli’s. He didn’t really expect her to show, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking for her.
Over an hour after the party started, the launch appeared yet again. This time it was empty except for its young skipper, in his nautical whites, and a single passenger. Jacob lost interest in the guest’s identity once he’d determined the newcomer wasn’t wearing the vibrant blue dress he’d bought Alli for the occasion. The launch slowly circled the yacht as Jacob conversed with an eager banker. He was aware of the motor cutting, idling, but paid little attention otherwise.
Mingling with the salt spray, a faint whiff of a familiar perfume caught his attention. He straightened by inches to look more closely at the petite figure climbing the steps into the stern of the Queen Elise.
The young woman’s hair glittered like spun gold in the late afternoon sunlight. It was brushed out long and smooth, down her back and away from her face. The strands blew delicately in the sea breeze. Piercing her tiny pink earlobes were simple gold knots and clinging interestingly to her body was a silky pantsuit that might have doubled as lounging pajamas. The effect was a mysterious blend of casual elegance.
Intriguingly, the color of her garment so nearly matched her skin, when he observed her from a particular angle and with the setting sun backlighting her—she almost looked as if she was without any clothing at all. It was impossible from a distance to tell where cloth ended and skin began. Only when the air moved around her as she stepped gracefully onto the deck, could he see the outline of sheer sleeves that draped gracefully along her arms and floated on the ocean’s breath.
“Welcome aboard!” he called out to her through the crowd of guests, turning away from the banker. He noticed she was carrying a small canvas bag. An overnight satchel? He felt a distinct surge of hope.
Allison shaded her eyes and observed him as he approached her, a small smile playing over her lips.
“You look stunning,” he said, aware that most of his guests were watching him and the late arrival very closely.
“Thank you,” she said demurely.
“Didn’t the dress I bought you fit?”
“I’m not in the habit of accepting gifts from strangers,” she said quickly.
It stung. A stranger. Was that how she thought of him? They’d slept in each other’s arms, explored each other’s bodies intimately. Yet, in honesty, he’d done as much with other women and he thought of them as no more than strangers. Some, he couldn’t even recall their names...Why did it hurt that she felt the same about him?
“Maybe we can remedy that situation,” he said, flashing her the dazzling but mechanical smile that had begun so many successful seductions. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “Most of my guests will be leaving by dark.”
“And I will join them,” she said succinctly. “I only came to return this.”
She held out the canvas tote. He peered inside. Scrunched up in a humble ball at its bottom was the expensive dress he’d bought her.
“I’m sorry—I thought you’d be pleased.”
“Why?” she asked bluntly. “Why should a woman fall all over herself because you throw an expensive trinket her way?”
He blinked at her, searching for a comeback. He’d sensed this side of her two years ago, but for some reason it hadn’t occurred to him that she’d reject a gift now.
“Oh, I see,” she said when he failed to find words for his confused thoughts. “It’s always worked before, so why not now? Something like that? Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” She swung away from him nonchalantly, gazing around the deck. “Where’s the food. I’m starved.”
Jacob watched as Allison sauntered across the deck, smiling pleasantly as she greeted a few of his guests on her way toward the hatch that led below, to the galley. She disappeared down the steps. It took several shocked minutes for him to realize what had just happened.
She’d spurned him!
Perhaps he should have skipped right to his usual second gift, a diamond tennis bracelet. But he had a sneaking suspicion she’d have quite literally flung it in his face. What was wrong with the woman? Didn’t she appreciate quality?
Gradually, anger crept in over his incredulousness. Every muscle in his body tensed. He felt as if he were standing under a blazing sun, although the air was cooling as a purple dusk wrapped itself around the yacht. Miniature lanterns, strung along the deck rail, flickered on, casting a golden glow across the deck. With a low growl of aggravation, he tucked the canvas tote under his arm and strode toward the steps to the galley.
An elderly couple stood talking with Allison. He cast them a black look; they politely ended the conversation and headed up the steps.
Jacob grabbed Allison’s arm, stopping her from reaching for a marinated mussel on a serving tray. “What are you trying to pull?”
“Pull?” she asked, innocently.
“Yes, pull. Do you think you can up the ante by giving me back the dress? What is it you want from me?”
She turned her head away, as if pretending to study the array of fresh sliced melon and tropical fruit.
“Look at me, Alli,” he ordered.
She ignored him, but he felt her arm lock nervously beneath his fingers.
“Look at me!” he roared.
She twisted free and faced him, her chin lifting defiantly. Her eyes leaped with aquamarine flames. “I’m looking,” she pronounced tersely.
“Why did you return my gift?”
“I don’t need anyone to buy me clothes.”
“I see,” he said slowly. “Then I was right. You are looking for something more from me.” He hadn’t expected this of her. It seemed that people did change, after all. “You might as well lay it on the line. What is it you want from me?”
She fixed him with a cold, challenging glare. “Nothing. I want nothing from you, Jacob. That’s why I came here tonight—to make that point.”
“Liar.”
Instead of reacting in anger as he’d expected, she took a long moment to coolly study him, her pretty eyes drifting down, then up his tall, trim body. “Why should I lie to you? Has that been your experience with women? They always want something from you?”
“Always,” he ground out.
She nibbled her bottom lip contemplatively. “I expect so. But there’s a reason for that, you realize.”
“What?”
“They expect a payoff, because those are the ground rules you always establish for your relationships.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted. Ground rules? The woman was maddening. He hardly ever raised his voice, but she made him want to bellow like a longshoreman. “I’m very nice to the women in my life. I—”
“I didn’t say you weren’t nice, in your own material way. What I meant was, you apparently have a reputation for becoming bored with lovers and chucking them out faster than a fashion model changes her shoes. If a woman with any sense at all gets involved with you, she knows she’s going to be dumped in a matter of weeks. So she views you the same way you view her. You take what you can from her, and she takes the only thing you’re selling—expensive baubles.”
Jacob glared at her. “You make me sound pretty damn shallow. I’m not like that. Ask Thomas!”
She laughed and shook her head, sending a smooth blond wave shimmering. “Who’s Thomas? Your manservant?” Her tone was clearly disparaging.
She was driving him nuts. What right did this small-town librarian have to analyze him? “Well, yes...Thomas is my chauffeur and bodyguard and many other things, but he’s also my friend.”
“And I’m sure he’s generously compensated for taking your side in any discussion,” she stated.
He read in her eyes that she understood she’d stepped over some invisible line with her last barb. Doubt flashed across her face.
Jacob felt heat rise in his own. Suddenly, it seemed impossible not to grab her, and he did. He wanted to shake her, shake her hard and make her understand he wasn’t a bad man at all—it was just that the world refused to treat him like other men. Things had always been different for him. He was given special privileges, yes. But there were rights other men took for granted—like privacy, choice of education and occupation, the ability to live wherever one wished and marry whomever one chose. He would never have those things.
This time, when he gripped her arm, he let her know through the pressure of his fingers on her flesh that she wouldn’t be able to break free until he was ready to let her go. “Thomas never gives less than his honest opinion, even if he knows I won’t like it,” he growled at her.
“Really,” she said. “And what did Thomas say about you and me, two years ago? Or wasn’t he part of your royal retinue at the time?”
Jacob winced. She was playing rough. “He was my driver while I was attending undergrad courses at Oxford, in England. After that, he stayed on as my personal assistant, man Friday, chauffeur...whatever I needed. He was also with me when I was at Yale, but I told him I could fend for myself while he took a well-deserved trip home to visit his family in London.”
“So he never knew about me?” she asked.
“No.” Why did he feel as if he should drop his head and stare ashamedly at his feet whenever she confronted him with their past? It wasn’t like him to feel guilty about anything he’d done. But then, he’d never produced a child from one of his affairs, until the one he’d had with Allison. “Look, I didn’t force you to become my lover. I didn’t seduce you with my fortune, promise you a weekend in the Alps, buy you expensive jewelry....”
“That’s right,” she said, “because you were clever enough to know those things wouldn’t work with me.”
“I could have promised you I’d marry you or stay with you forever. I never said I loved you.”
“No, you didn’t,” Allison admitted, her voice sounding painfully hollow. Her eyes dimmed for an instant before flashing up at him. “I didn’t say I loved you, either.”
The bite of her words took his breath away. Why should it matter? It never had before, with other women.
But for some reason, Allison’s bringing up the idea left him feeling destitute—as if something precious had been given to him, then abruptly snatched from his hands. He’d never thought much about love, because he equated being loved with not being alone. And he was never alone. Bevies of people had always hovered around him—caring for his basic needs, answering his questions, fetching whatever he preferred for food, clothing, entertainment.
Before Thomas, there had been nurses, governesses, butlers and maids. His mother had died five years earlier, but in a puzzling way he missed her no more than he missed many of his old teachers. The queen often had been too busy to spend time with him. She’d certainly never told him in words that she loved him. He was an only child, so there had been no siblings to rival him for her affections. Love had, in short, never been an issue for him. He wasn’t even sure what it meant.
“Alli,” he breathed, still holding her arm. “Why do you have to be so difficult, so combative?”
“Me? I’m not being difficult at all, Prince Jacob.” She batted her lashes innocently at him. “I’ve come to say thank-you very much for the dress, but I don’t want or need it. I also want to tell you how much I appreciate your invite to this nifty party of yours. I’m enjoying myself immensely. The food is scrumptious, the wine seems a good year. I’d say I’m being totally agreeable.”
Her tongue was firmly embedded in her cheek. She was toying with him. Yet Jacob found it difficult to remain angry with her. He was almost overcome by the scent of her, by the electricity sizzling through the flesh of her slender arm, into his hand. The more controlled and reasonable her behavior, the crazier he felt.
“You want something,” he roared, looming over her. He felt powerful, yet helpless at the same time. “You aren’t that different from the others.”
Her cool glance rose to meet him. “I suppose I do want something. I’ll tell you what it is,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I’d give a king’s ransom for a decent ham sandwich right now. This stuff is tasty, but it would take a week of nibbling to satisfy a real appetite.”
“Knock it off, Alli. Just tell me what you’re after and we can quit playing games. It’s the kid, isn’t it? You want money for him. Fine. I won’t even argue the possibility that he might not be mine. If you need money, I’ll make sure you have it. But I don’t want a word of this leaked to the press or—” He broke off, silenced by the fury reflected in her features.
“You pompous, spoiled brat,” she hissed, attempting to shake him off. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone as self-involved as you, Jacob von Whatever-you-are.”
He was astonished by her reaction. “I’m offering you any amount you name for a child I’ve never seen,” he objected. “I can’t even be certain he’s mine! I think that’s pretty damn generous, lady.”
“And that’s exactly why you’re all the things I just called you,” she snapped at him. “I don’t want your money, Jacob. I want you to go away and leave me and my son alone. The only reason I’m here is to avoid the cost of mailing your damn dress back to you.” She wrenched her arm out of his grasp. “Get out of my way. I want to leave now.”
He couldn’t ignore the determination in her eyes. And he couldn’t believe how sure of herself she sounded. Finally, he understood. She was asking for nothing from him but his absence. It was the first time in his life he’d met anyone who honestly had no intention of using him. Power, money, prestige by association, bragging rights for sleeping with him...She asked for none of those things. He didn’t know how to deal with her.
So he did what his body had been badgering him to do since she set foot on the Queen Elise. He intercepted her before she reached the steps, dragged her into his arms and kissed her possessively on the mouth. The kiss lengthened, softened, grew deliriously heady. Finally, he felt the tension ease out of her body. Her lips yielded sweetly and tremblingly opened to his.
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