Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | The Expectant Princess

The Expectant Princess
Stella Bagwell


Princess Dominique Stanbury's father was missing, presumed dead, and she had to be strong for the sake of her family. The only one she could turn to was Marcus Kent, her father's devastatingly handsome High Counsel–and the older man who could still make her heart race.Then, in the midst of the turmoil, Dominique revealed her closely guarded secret–the baby growing within her–and the ever-honorable Marcus proposed marriage. But was Marcus's proposal made out of devotion for his king… or love for the beautiful princess?







THE EDENBOURG TATTLER

March 2001

Word has it that with the king’s disappearance Princess Dominique Stanbury has returned to Edenbourg sporting a green complexion and enough bouts of morning sickness to draw some very serious conclusions. Not only that, but Marcus Kent, the king’s right-hand man, hasn’t left her side since she stepped off the royal jet. Could it be that Marcus is responsible for the princess’s delicate condition? And if the king is ever found, will he condone Marcus’s inclusion in the royal mix and allow his loyal employee to marry the princess he’s so obviously in love with?

The Blacksheep Prince’s Bride

(SR #1510)

by Martha Shields


Dear Reader,

You asked for more ROYALLY WED titles and you’ve got them! For the next four months we’ve brought back the Stanbury family—first introduced in a short story by Carla Cassidy on our Harlequin.com Web site. Be sure to check the archives to find Nicholas’s story! But don’t forget to pick up Stella Bagwell’s The Expectant Princess and discover the involving story of the disappearance of King Michael.

Other treats this month include Marie Ferrarella’s one hundredth title for Silhouette Books! This wonderful, charming and emotional writer shows her trademark warmth and humor in Rough Around the Edges. Luckily for all her devoted readers, Marie has at least another hundred plots bubbling in her imagination, and we’ll be seeing more from her in many of our Silhouette lines.

Then we’ve got Karen Rose Smith’s Tall, Dark & True about a strong, silent sheriff who can’t bear to keep quiet about his feelings any longer. And Donna Clayton’s heroine asks Who Will Father My Baby?—and gets a surprising answer. No Place Like Home by Robin Nicholas is a delightful read that reminds us of an all-time favorite movie—I’ll let you guess which one! And don’t forget first-time author Roxann Delaney’s debut title, Rachel’s Rescuer.

Next month be sure to return for The Blacksheep Prince’s Bride by Martha Shields, the next of the ROYALLY WED series. Also returning are popular authors Judy Christenberry and Elizabeth August.

Happy reading!






Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor




The Expectant Princess

Stella Bagwell



















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Lloyd Henry Cook, who was surely a king in a past life,

or at the very least a prince. This one is for you, dear brother.


Books by Stella Bagwell

Silhouette Romance

Golden Glory #469

Moonlight Bandit #485

A Mist on the Mountain #510

Madeline’s Song #543

The Outsider #560

The New Kid in Town #587

Cactus Rose #621

Hillbilly Heart #634

Teach Me #657

The White Night #674

No Horsing Around #699

That Southern Touch #723

Gentle as a Lamb #748

A Practical Man #789

Precious Pretender #812

Done to Perfection #836

Rodeo Rider #878

* (#litres_trial_promo)Their First Thanksgiving #903

* (#litres_trial_promo)The Best Christmas Ever #909

* (#litres_trial_promo)New Year’s Baby #915

Hero in Disguise #954

Corporate Cowgirl #991

Daniel’s Daddy #1020

A Cowboy for Christmas #1052

Daddy Lessons #1085

Wanted: Wife #1140

† (#litres_trial_promo)The Sheriff’s Son #1218

† (#litres_trial_promo)The Rancher’s Bride #1224

† (#litres_trial_promo)The Tycoon’s Tots #1228

† (#litres_trial_promo)The Rancher’s Blessed Event #1296

† (#litres_trial_promo)The Ranger and the Widow Woman #1314

† (#litres_trial_promo)The Cowboy and the Debutante #1334

† (#litres_trial_promo)Millionaire on Her Doorstep #1368

The Bridal Bargain #1414

Falling for Grace #1456

The Expectant Princess #1504

Silhouette Special Edition

Found: One Runaway Bride #1049

† (#litres_trial_promo)Penny Parker’s Pregnant! #1258

Silhouette Books

Fortunes of Texas

The Heiress and the Sheriff

Maitland Maternity

Just for Christmas


STELLA BAGWELL

sold her first book to Silhouette in 1985. More than forty novels later, she still says she isn’t completely content unless she’s writing. Recently she and her husband of thirty years moved from the hills of Oklahoma to Seadrift, Texas. Stella says the water, the tropical climate and the seabirds make it a lovely place to let her imagination soar.

She and her husband have one son, Jason, who lives and teaches high school math in nearby Port Lavaca.










Contents


Prologue (#u8b1e53bf-4951-54a4-a481-9629ebbe8b7b)

Chapter One (#u9a59c75b-05c0-5cc9-81b4-7d33d545f9ee)

Chapter Two (#u9e590822-60af-5a36-9cd5-b52d81c3b997)

Chapter Three (#u86657d28-9252-5bcd-aabd-b016ea75bb81)

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)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue

March, 2001

“She’s going to be a beautiful princess.”

Queen Josephine of Edenbourg’s announcement was accompanied with a tender smile for the three-month-old baby cradled in the arms of her doting father.

“LeAnn already is a beautiful princess,” Prince Nicholas proudly corrected his mother. “She’s going to grow up to be the spitting image of Rebecca.”

The prince’s comment produced a blush on the face of his young American-born wife and happy laughter among the group crowded around the baby and her proud parents.

Outside, a cool rain was falling on the majestic towers of Edenbourg Abbey, but inside the ancient cathedral the mood was warm and festive. Family, friends and dignitaries from several countries had gathered to attend the christening of baby LeAnn, first grandchild of the king and queen of Edenbourg, one of the most beautiful countries in Eastern Europe, and daughter to the heir to the throne.

“Well put, my son. LeAnn is already quite beautiful,” Josephine agreed. The slender woman with a sleek brown chignon and regal stature touched a gentle finger to the baby’s rosy cheek. “And so far she’s behaved like a little angel.”

“Yes, so far,” Rebecca spoke up in worried motherly fashion. “But I fear once the bishop takes hold of her she’s going to start wailing at the top of her lungs.”

Once more chuckles abounded throughout the group. As if on cue, the baby looked around with wide innocent eyes, then not caring one whit that her audience was made up of royal bloodlines dating back to medieval times, she gave them a toothless grin.

Standing at the prince’s right elbow, golden-haired Princess Dominique Stanbury, the youngest of the Stan-bury siblings, smiled affectionately as she reached for her new niece.

“Let me hold her, dear brother. You’re positively too greedy where your daughter is concerned. You’re going to have her spoiled rotten before she’s old enough to sit upright.”

With a groan of feigned reluctance, the tall young prince with black hair handed the baby to his younger sister. “That’s what princesses are for, aren’t they? To be spoiled. Father certainly pampered you,” he teased.

A spate of laughter followed his words. Dominique wrinkled her nose at him and glanced at her older sister, Isabel, who was standing a few steps away from their brother. “Isabel, you’re not going to let him get away with that, are you?”

Princess Isabel laughed as her gaze seesawed back and forth between her two siblings. Like Dominique, she possessed a tall, slender build and light green eyes. But where Dominique’s thick mane was golden brown and fell to the middle of her back, Isabel’s was dark brown and just brushed the top of her shoulders. An impish smile appeared on her face as she spoke. “Don’t worry, sister, LeAnn will give our brother a special lesson in spoiling princesses. And I can’t wait to see how well he holds up under the strain.”

The whole family chuckled, except for little LeAnn. The baby began to fuss and Dominique instinctively rocked her with a gentle swaying motion. At the same time, she noticed her mother’s attention was once again riveted to her wristwatch. The gesture was out of character for Josephine, who approached every social event with smooth and steady confidence.

Bending her head toward her mother’s ear, she asked, “What’s wrong, Mother? You’ve been checking the time after every minute.”

Casting an anxious eye toward the massive carved doors at the entrance of the cathedral, the queen said, “It’s really getting rather late in the hour. I expected your father to be here by now.”

Catching the last part of his mother’s distressed comment, Nicholas consulted the timepiece strapped to his wrist. “There’s still fifteen minutes before the ceremony starts. I’m sure Father will be showing up any minute.”

Exasperation was evident in the brief shake of Josephine’s head. “I tried to persuade him to ride with me this morning, but he insisted he had some sort of brief business to take care of before he joined us here at the abbey. He then left with only an armed driver. I do hope there hasn’t been some sort of trouble that forced him to return to the castle.”

The queen turned a commanding look on her son. “Nicholas, go question security. Perhaps they’ve been in radio contact.”

As the prince walked away to do her bidding, Dominique pulled her mother a few steps aside of the group of family and friends.

“It isn’t like you to get so alarmed, Mother,” she said in a hushed tone. “I’m sure Father was just detained with business. It certainly won’t be the first time.”

Queen Josephine gave her daughter a halfhearted smile. “You are right. But something—” With another unusual display of nerves, she pressed a jeweled hand to her throat. “I can’t explain it. But something has left me with an uneasy feeling. Michael was so looking forward to his granddaughter’s christening and—”

Her words paused as the guests around them began to exchange excited whispers and stare toward the entrance of the cathedral.

Both mother and daughter turned to see the line of security at the massive doors had parted and a tall man with gray hair was striding toward the congregation standing near the altar. A younger, dark-haired man followed immediately on his heels.

The massive size of the church made the distance too great to exactly identify the men. But from the tall stature and gray hair of the older one, Dominique was certain it had to be her father, the king.

She turned a relieved smile on her mother. “See, there he is now. Your worrying was all for naught.”

A slight frown creased Josephine’s forehead as she continued to study the advancing male figures. “That isn’t Michael. I don’t recognize either of these men.”

By now Nicholas had returned from questioning the guards. His grim expression caused such alarm to rush through Dominique, she completely forgot about the two strangers.

“What does security say?” Josephine quickly questioned him.

Nicholas shook his head. “They haven’t heard from Father since he and his driver left the castle more than an hour ago. A detail is out checking the route at this very moment.”

Before mother or sister could question him further, the two unknown men, accompanied by one security guard, approached the queen.

All went suddenly quiet and everyone in the huge church looked on with a bit of amazement as the elder of the two men bowed deeply from the waist. A royal christening with gate-crashers didn’t happen in Edenbourg. Not even rarely.

In a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, he said, “Your Majesty, I hope you will forgive me for trespassing on this special occasion. I am your husband’s brother, Edward Stanbury. And this is my eldest son, Luke.” He gestured toward the younger man at his side, who in turn bowed to the queen.

Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the guests while Josephine simply stared at the two intruders. From the rigid line of her jaw, Dominique could tell her mother was trying not to reveal her shock at this sudden turn of events. Edward Stanbury had left the country of Edenbourg years ago to become a citizen of the United States. He and King Michael were estranged and had been for as long as Dominique could remember.

“You’ve traveled far,” Josephine finally spoke to the two men. “Does King Michael know of your arrival?”

Edward opened his mouth to answer, but before he could utter a word, his son, Luke, quickly interceded. “We’ve only just now come from the airport, Your Majesty, and—”

The remainder of the younger man’s sentence was missed as another flurry of activity caused everyone’s attention to swing once again to the entrance of the cathedral. Instantly, mouths gaped and soft gasps of alarm sounded. A royal guard was rushing toward the christening party as if demons were on his heels.

Clearly anticipating that something was amiss, Nicholas put a bracing hand under his mother’s elbow. Next to Dominique, Rebecca silently reached for her daughter. Dominique carefully handed LeAnn back to her sister-in-law and waited with the rest as the young guard bowed before the royal family.

“What is it, man?” Nicholas demanded impatiently.

The guard’s words came out in a breathless rush. “I fear it’s bad news, Your Highness. The king and his driver have been involved in an accident. The car crashed through a guardrail and careened down the side of a steep cliff. We believe both men are dead.”

Wails of utter shock and horror rose from the crowd to echo off the hallowed walls of the cathedral. Before Dominique could begin to comprehend the news, a security detail was surrounding Nicholas.

At the same time, Marcus Kent, the king’s high counsel, was pushing his way forward through the group of stunned dignitaries and friends.

In a daze, Dominique watched as he lay his hand on her brother’s shoulder and soberly spoke, “According to the Edenbourg Treatise, it is now my solemn duty to proclaim Nicholas to be the acting king of Edenbourg until Michael is found or declared dead.”

Josephine gripped her son’s arm. “What do you mean found?” she asked Marcus. “Has the king’s body not yet been recovered?”

Marcus shook his head. “No. Security has just now informed me that King Michael’s body is missing from the accident scene.”

Dominique didn’t hear the laments of those around her. Nor did she realize a cry of pain was spilling from her own lips as she pressed a hand to her stomach and rushed from the abbey.




Chapter One


A few steps away from the cathedral’s grassy courtyard, Dominique laid her cheek against a column of cool marble and tried to calm her roiling stomach.

Dear God, don’t let me be sick now, she silently prayed. Her mother, her family were going to need her strength. They couldn’t be burdened with the secret she carried. At least, not now.

Even though she desperately tried to hold them back, tears poured from her eyes. She was a princess, bred and tutored to be strong under the very worst of circumstances. If her father knew she was displaying such emotion in a public place he would be horrified and angry.

The sobering thought braced her somewhat and she forced herself to dig a tiny embroidered kerchief from her handbag. With trembling hands, she carefully dabbed at the moisture beneath her eyes.

“Dominique? Are you all right?”

Dominique’s heart went still, then lurched into a hard, anxious thud. Nearly four years had passed since she’d seen him, but the male voice behind her was as familiar as yesterday’s sunset.

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped away from the marble column and turned to face the man she’d tried her best to forget.

Even before Marcus Kent had become her father’s top adviser, he’d been an impressive figure of a man both intellectually and physically. At two inches over six feet, he was all lean muscle and broad shoulders. Short, raven-black hair waved slightly back from a wide forehead and strong, roughly chiseled features. Thick black eyebrows and lashes framed a pair of eyes that were nothing less than striking. Their smoky-topaz color was as unique as the man himself.

At thirty-three he was twelve years Dominique’s senior. Yet as she gazed at him now, she knew she had never met a man who stirred her more.

“It wasn’t necessary for you to check on me, Marcus. But thank you just the same.”

Three strides carried him to within inches of her and she felt herself quivering with renewed awareness as his solemn gaze searched her upturned face. The years she’d been away at university in the States had been kind to him. He looked just as virile and potently masculine as he had that day she’d said goodbye.

“You were very white when you fled your family a moment ago. I wanted to make certain you hadn’t fainted.”

“I’m sure a guard followed me.” She wouldn’t know of life any other way. Being a member of a royal family made her a target. She’d long ago had to counsel herself to the fact that her movements in public, no matter how trivial, were almost always watched and her behavior scrutinized. Especially here in the city of Old Stanbury.

“I expect at this moment you need more than a guard’s presence.”

His gentle suggestion caused pricks of fresh tears to burn the backs of her eyes. Determined to do her father proud, she blinked and sniffed and swallowed them down. But the idea that King Michael might really be gone from their lives drained the very strength from her legs and she grabbed for Marcus’s hand almost at the same moment he reached out to steady her.

“Oh, Marcus,” she said hoarsely. “This has to be a nightmare. Please tell me Father can’t be dead.”

From the moment Marcus had spotted Dominique entering the cathedral this morning, his insides had gathered into hard knots and remained that way. In the past few days, he’d learned from the king himself that she was home from university to attend this morning’s christening. But he’d deliberately avoided going by her suite of rooms in the family’s palace to say hello.

Years ago Marcus had made a point to quell her schoolgirl adulation for him and, in doing so, he suspected he’d crushed her young pride. At the time he’d not set out to deliberately hurt or embarrass her. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d always been genuinely fond of Dominique and he’d wanted to send her off to university with a clear mind. Not cluttered with romantic notions for an older man.

Four years had passed since then, and he figured somewhere in between she’d forgiven him for forcing her to take off her rose-colored glasses where he was concerned. As for himself, the years Dominique had been away had seen him married with high hopes, then divorced with bitter regret.

Now he wished he had made a point of seeing Dominique before this morning. Maybe then he would have been prepared for the drastic change in her appearance. She’d grown into a woman whose beauty knocked the very breath from his lungs.

Her tall, slender body now moved with grace and poise. The golden-brown cap of curls he remembered framing her face had grown into long waves that very nearly touched the back of her waist. Today the thick tresses were pulled back from her temples with diamond-studded combs that matched the loops of diamonds dangling from her earlobes. He recalled her eyes being the same pale green he was looking into, only now their open innocence was gone, replaced by a provocative slant and a touch of shadowy mystery that was utterly feminine. A perfectly straight nose led down to an equally perfect set of lips. Plump and moist; the top lip dipped deeply in the middle, the bottom curved to an enticing pout.

No doubt she had been properly kissed since he’d last seen her, Marcus thought. In fact, for all he knew, she might have already given her heart to some young man.

The gentle pressure of her fingers tightening around his brought Marcus out of his wandering thoughts—thoughts that were both foolish and improper on his part. It didn’t matter that her cream-colored dress did more than hint at the luscious curves of a woman. To him she could be nothing more than the king’s young daughter. A king who, it appeared, was most likely dead.

“I’m sorry, Dominique. I can’t give you hope when there seems to be none.”

Her head dropped, then swung from side to side in disbelief. The sudden urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her shocked Marcus. Although he didn’t know why his feelings should be a surprise to him. Where Dominique was concerned, he’d always harbored a protective streak. Six years ago, when he’d joined the king’s administrative staff, she’d been a shy, gangly fifteen-year-old. Uncertain of her place in the royal family and at the same time hungry for reassurance and affection. His own rough childhood had helped to create an affinity for the young princess. One that obviously hadn’t dissolved, in spite of the past years she’d been away.

“What about LeAnn’s christening?” she murmured. “Are they still going through with the ceremony?”

“No,” he answered, his thoughts softening his voice. “The accident has taken precedence now. Your family is making preparations to return to the castle.”

Her head came up swiftly. “Oh. Then I must get back inside.”

With her free hand she pressed the kerchief against both cheeks, then snapped the dainty cloth away in the small gold velvet bag hanging from her shoulder.

Marcus released her hand, then cupped his palm around her bent elbow. As he guided her through a back entry of the cathedral, he wished above anything that she didn’t have to face the sorrow of her father’s accident. He wished it was in his power to shield her now and always from life’s harsh realities.

But he was just a man. A commoner, despite his lofty position as the king’s high counsel. She deserved and needed more than he could ever give her and he suspected she’d learned that while she’d been away, growing into a woman.

Three days later Dominique was still struggling to shake the notion that her father’s horrific accident was all just a nightmare. Each morning she expected to wake and join her family in the dining hall for breakfast. Somehow she knew she would find King Michael seated at the head of the long table, a cup of tea in one hand, a newspaper in the other. But each morning she’d discovered the dining hall empty, her mother choosing to breakfast in privacy, while her brother, Nicholas, was already at work, trying to deal with the upheaval their father’s disappearance had caused with the media and the political world.

This morning Dominique had chosen to breakfast on the balcony off her bedroom. If she were going to eat alone, at least she could do it in total solitude without a bevy of servants hovering over her.

Being away at university had spoiled her, she supposed. While living on campus and attending classes, she’d not been smothered by a royal entourage to carry out even her smallest bidding. Over time, she’d grown to love the freedom, the feeling that basically she was no different than any other young woman working toward a degree. Even if she was Princess Dominique Stanbury of Edenbourg.

The slight sound of a footstep on flagstone alerted her that she was no longer alone. Glancing up from a plate of fruit, she saw that Prudence, her lady-in-waiting, had joined her on the balcony.

Only two years older than herself, Prudence had been with Dominique since their early childhood. When the time had come for Dominique to go to college, Prudence had begged to go along with her princess, but the king and queen had separated the two, believing it would help their daughter develop more independence. Now that Dominique was back, Prudence was delighted and had practically been smothering her with attention.

At the moment, the young woman with dark brown hair twisted into an elaborate coil at the back of her head gave her princess a rueful smile. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Dominique. But someone has asked to see you. Are you feeling up to a visitor this morning?”

“Who is it, Pru?”

The other woman’s smile deepened. “Marcus Kent. I thought you might not want me to send him away.”

Other than a faint lift of her eyebrows, Dominique made no reply to her lady’s subtle hint. Instead, she glanced down at her blue velour robe. She wasn’t properly dressed, but she was decently covered. And Marcus might have received some sort of news about her father that he wanted to deliver personally.

“I’ll see him here on the balcony. Oh, and Pru,” she added as her personal attendant turned to hurry away. “Please send a servant up with a pot of fresh decaffeinated coffee and a thermos of cold fruit juice. Mr. Kent might want refreshments.”

“Of course,” she said with a wide smile. “I’ll be in the study if you need me for anything else.”

Prudence disappeared back into the palace and Dominique quickly finger-combed her loose hair. Thankfully, she had taken the time to thoroughly brush the long strands before breakfast. But without combs or headbands to confine it, the waves slipped and slid to their choosing rather than hers.

Oh, what did it matter anyway, she thought dismally. Most likely Marcus still thought of her as a young schoolgirl. No doubt he probably believed the crush she’d had on him for a while had died since her time away at university. It didn’t matter that she looked less than her best.

The thought was hardly out of her head when a tall shadow appeared across the glass tabletop. Looking up, she squinted against the bright morning sun streaming around his silhouette.

“Prudence didn’t tell me you were still having breakfast,” he said in that deep voice she remembered so well. “I should have waited until a later hour to see you.”

Shaking her head, Dominique motioned for him to take the chair opposite her.

“You’re not interrupting anything. I think I’ve forced down three bites in the past half hour.”

He frowned with disapproval. “That’s hardly the way to start your day.”

The sight of his dark handsome face had already fed her more than the food on her plate, she realized with sudden shock. Then quickly pushing the unbidden thought away, she said, “I’m not sure when my days start and end now, Marcus. Since the morning of the accident, everything has seemed surreal.”

Settling back in the wrought-iron chair, he propped his ankle against his knee. Dominique’s gaze slid discreetly over the light gray suit that was perfectly cut to fit his broad shoulders, then on to the strip of pale pink shirt against his tanned neck and the burgundy striped tie lying against his chest. From what she knew of Marcus, his looks or clothing were not that important to him. Seeing to the needs of his king and his country were always first and foremost. Yet he was a man who could throw on an old rugby shirt and a pair of jeans and still manage to look impressive.

Watch it, Dominique, she silently scolded herself. As a teenager, she’d allowed the image of Marcus Kent to put stars in her eyes. But she was a grown woman now and he was a man who would never see her as anything more than a friend or princess. He’d made that clear years ago. And besides, she’d already made a fool out of herself over one man. There was no way she was going to make a second mistake.

“I’ve been meaning to stop by and—offer my condolences before now,” he said. “But as you might guess, things have been hectic with the ongoing investigation of the accident and getting Nicholas settled in as the new acting king.”

Dominique latched on to one word and quickly tossed it back at him. “Condolences? Does that mean—” She swallowed as her throat threatened to close around the words. “Has Father’s body been found?”

Shaking his head he started to speak, then stopped abruptly as a maid, dressed in a gray-and-white uniform and carrying a loaded ornate silver tray, appeared on the balcony.

After depositing the tray on the table, the plump older woman stood waiting to serve them. Dominique quickly dismissed her, saying, “Thank you, I’ll do it.”

With a quick curtsy she left them, and Dominique looked at Marcus. “Would you like coffee or juice?”

“Coffee. With a dollop of cream. No sugar.”

She reached for a cup and saucer. The thin, gold-encrusted china rattled loudly in her shaking hands.

Quickly, Marcus leaned forward and took the dishes from her. “Here, let me,” he said gently. “You’re in no shape to be handling hot liquid.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus,” she apologized as she watched him pour the coffee. “I guess my nerves are a little frayed.”

His smile was indulgent. “I would hate to think of you not being upset at a time like this.”

She was a mess. A total mess. And Marcus was the one person she’d always wanted to impress with inner strength and dignity. Instead, she seemed to break down with emotion at the very sight of him. Her behavior toward him made no sense at all.

He lifted a second cup in question and she nodded for answer. After he’d filled it and passed it to her, she said, “Getting back to the accident, just what have you discovered? Anything new?”

Carefully, he sipped the hot coffee, then lowered the wafer-thin cup to its saucer. An odd mixture of apprehension and attraction shot through Dominique as his golden-brown eyes settled on her face.

“You are aware that the police have been combing the cliffs where the accident took place and also searching the sea below?” he asked.

She nodded stiffly. “The television news and all the newspapers have been full of pictures and theories as to what might have occurred the day of the crash. But none of it means much. Nothing will—until my father and his driver are found.”

He studied her for a moment longer and Dominique got the impression he was trying to decide whether she was strong enough for any sort of revelation. The idea knotted her already queasy stomach.

“A call from the police came in less than an hour ago. They’re still trying to extricate the driver’s body from the car. Apparently the metal—at least what was left after the fire—was a mangled mess. And I’m sure they’re going slowly so as not to destroy any clues. Apparent or otherwise.”

Dominique sucked in a fearful breath. “What about my father? If the driver—”

Marcus lifted one hand to halt her tortured thoughts. “King Michael’s body has still not been found. The chief investigator believes he must have been tossed from the car, and from that point his body rolled down the cliff and into the sea. The next step is to bring in divers and search the waters just off the island.”

Dominique shuddered with imagined horror. “But wouldn’t the body have already washed up to the shoreline? The prevailing winds over the North Sea would push the tide toward us, not away.”

“That’s true, however—”

She darted a questioning frown at him. “But what? What are you not telling me?”

His gaze dropped to her slender fingers and the cup lightly clutched in their grasp. She was so soft and vulnerable. He wanted to shield her from the awful truth and the pain it was bound to bring her.

“Drink your coffee,” he suggested quietly.

Her frown deepened, drawing her delicate eyebrows together to create one thin slash above her eyes. “Don’t stall, Marcus. Tell me what else you’re thinking.”

His lips formed a grim line, then he sighed. “You don’t really want to think of all the hazards out in the sea.”

The stiffness went out of her shoulders and her whole upper body sagged forward with reluctant defeat.

“You mean sharks,” she said in a low, raw voice. “Well, you are right. A body wouldn’t last long once a scavenger found it. But Father might not have been dead. He might have been dazed and hurt.” Her tone suddenly took on a fresh burst of hope. “It’s possible he could have wandered off before anyone came upon the wreckage!”

Thoughtfully, Marcus rubbed a thumb along the slight cleft in his chin. “Possible. But not likely. Eventually he would have had to stagger onto someone. There isn’t a soul in this city who wouldn’t recognize King Michael and carry him to the hospital.”

Although the weather was sunny with only a gentle breeze to ruffle the earliest spring leaves, Dominique felt suddenly cold. Clutching the lapels of her robe tightly together, she said, “Unless he happened to stumble onto an enemy.”

Marcus stared at her in disbelief.

She asked, “Why are you looking at me like that? I realize Father was a beloved king, but one never knows about people anymore. There are some strange ones out there.”

Actually the same sort of thread had run through his own thoughts these past three days. But he’d not voiced it to anyone. Even the police. Not that they would have put any credence into his theory. He was a political adviser, not a detective. And anyway, it was a farfetched notion. Anyone who looked at the scene of the accident would think it incredible for anyone to survive.

“I’m sorry if I was staring, Dominique. Your thoughts just took me by surprise. I didn’t expect you to be thinking in such—sinister terms.”

With a shake of her head, she placed her cup back on its saucer. Her fingers trembled as she passed them over her forehead. “I’m not sure I’m thinking at all right now, Marcus. I keep telling myself I have to accept that my father is dead. But my heart refuses. I can’t let go of the hope that he still might be alive and out there somewhere—someplace where he can’t get back to us.”

Before Marcus realized what he was doing, he reached over and gathered her hand in his.

“You need to put this out of your mind as best you can, Dominique. Fretting about it won’t accomplish anything. And you’ve only just now come back home to the palace. Why don’t you see old friends and try to enjoy being with your family.”

The warm strength of his hand felt far too good. It was all she could do to keep from turning her palm upward and sliding her fingers intimately between his.

Oh my, you are a little fool, Dominique. You were supposed to have forgotten all about Marcus Kent. You were certain you had. But you come home and he gives you one kind look and you melt like sweet chocolate between warm lips.

Clearing her throat, she said, “I’m not going back to my studies anytime soon, Marcus. At least not until this thing with my father is cleared up.”

She couldn’t tell him that her father’s accident was only part of the reason she was delaying her return to university. He’d want a full explanation and she couldn’t give him one. The reason would come out all too soon anyway. And then he’d be looking at her with disgust. As no doubt her family would be, too.




Chapter Two


“Do you think that’s a wise decision? Not going back to the university right away?” Marcus asked.

A wan smile tilted Dominique’s lips. “I’ve been known to make unwise choices before. You know me, I never had the level head my sister Isabel possesses. Nor Nicholas’s intelligence. But even if this thing with father wasn’t happening, I need some time off. To rest.”

His smile held a hint of both censure and understanding. “I suppose you’ll get to that degree soon enough. And then you’ll be out in the world of high-powered business.”

Because the pleasure was becoming too great, she slid her hand from his and reached for her coffee. After a thoughtful sip, she said, “I’ve changed the direction of my degree sometime back. I’m going into the field of education.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh. I had the impression you wanted to be a financial adviser.”

She grimaced. “I’ve decided it’s more important for a person to acquire an education. Without that, they won’t need a financial adviser.” Shrugging, she self-consciously glanced away from him. “Eventually I would like to form an education center here in Old Stan-bury. For needy students who can’t afford to attend private schools or expensive universities.”

“That’s a lofty goal,” he said.

Yes, she thought. And to achieve such a project she was going to need the backing of her family and country. But once her secret was out, Dominique wasn’t sure she would receive either. She would probably be lucky if her family didn’t choose to disown her completely. While she’d been away at her studies, she’d not behaved as a princess representing her country. But, dear heaven, she was only human, she reasoned with herself. She was a young woman with needs just like thousands of other women in Edenbourg.

Her fidgeting fingers on the cup handle didn’t go unnoticed by Marcus. In fact, it amazed him that everything about her caught his attention.

In the open light of the fresh morning, her skin looked like rich cream and pale roses. Her brown hair was threaded with streaks of gold and sunlight. This morning the mass was unconfined, the waves tumbling about her face and shoulders like a wild waterfall.

Before Marcus realized where his thinking was headed, he was suddenly wondering what it would be like to run his hands through the thick brown tresses, to skim the pads of his fingers over the smooth skin of her face, her throat and down the shadowy cleavage between her breasts.

Dear Lord, he must be drunk from lack of sleep and too much work, he reasoned with himself. There was no other reason for him to be thinking such lustful thoughts about his king’s daughter. Especially now that King Michael was missing and presumed dead.

Across the table Dominique was feeling a bit disturbed by Marcus’s close scrutiny. It wasn’t like him to look at her so intensely. And though she knew it was a crazy notion, she wondered if the man was finally seeing her as a woman. Not as the teenager he used to know.

The whole idea heated Dominique’s cheeks and forced her to rise to her feet and put a measurable space between them.

Walking to the edge of the balcony, she leaned against the thick balustrade. From this high point, Old Stanbury, the capital city of Edenbourg, lay far below. Its network of winding narrow streets were nestled against green hillsides and lined with shops, boutiques and quaint cottages built centuries before the ravages of World War II had threatened this small island country.

Far to the west, between a break in the mountains, was a sparkling glimpse of blue-gray sea, while directly below were the palace grounds, where slopes of grassy lawns were dotted with huge shade trees and patterned with hedgerows. In another month, tea roses would be blooming thickly in the carefully tended gardens. A beautiful time for a wedding. But that part of Dominique’s dreams were over.

She was trying to fight off those bitter thoughts when Marcus came to stand beside her. With a rueful smile, she looked over at him.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m not very good company this morning.”

The smile he cast her was regretful. “I’m not here to be entertained, Dominique. In fact, I think I should be the one apologizing for starting your day out on such a bad note.”

She drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “No. Please don’t apologize. I want you to keep me abreast of what’s happening with the investigation.”

He nodded soberly. “Perhaps we’ll hear something soon.”

As she studied his somber face, it suddenly dawned on her that her father’s disappearance was bound to be tearing at him just as much as it was her. Marcus had spent many years serving his country and, most of all, his king. He had become her father’s right-hand man, a close friend and confidant to Michael Stanbury.

The need to comfort him overshadowed her intentions to remain distant. She reached for his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “I know you must be hurting over all this, too, Marcus. You love Father very much.”

“Yes,” he said flatly. “It’s not the same without him.”

“No. But then our lives never really stay the same, even when we want them to.”

Her comment brought a grimace to his face. “I’m sure you heard about my marriage and divorce.”

She nodded while trying to hide her surprise that he’d brought up the subject. From what she recalled, Marcus had been a private man. She’d not expected him to want to share that sort of thing with anyone.

“It was in the papers,” she told him. “I couldn’t help but see all the articles. I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you.”

Pulling away from her, he gripped the top rail of the balustrade as he stared out at the distant city. “Being a member of your father’s staff made my private life fodder for the news media. I don’t think there was even one story that ever got it right.”

Her throat tightened with unexpected emotion. Marcus had always been a hero in her eyes. And heroes weren’t ever supposed to hurt. “Your wife—I mean, ex-wife—is very beautiful. You must have loved her madly.”

The corners of his mouth turned downward. Madly was probably the perfect way to describe his feelings toward Liza back then, Marcus thought. For a while he’d been insane over the woman. He’d not been able to see beyond his own besotted emotions that she was not suited to him or his way of life. Liza had never been able to understand that when duty to his country called, she had to take second stage.

“I’m over Liza, Dominique. But I do still deeply regret that our baby didn’t survive.”

Baby. The word jolted the deepest part of her and for long moments she was too choked to speak.

Finally, she managed, but her voice was hoarse and so low it was almost carried away with the sea breeze. “You’ll have a child someday, Marcus. When you find that special woman.”

His lips twisted to a mocking slant. “No. Two years ago Liza suffered a spontaneous miscarriage. The doctors couldn’t explain why it happened. Except that nature had decided to intervene. Somehow the lack of a concrete reason made it harder for both of us to accept the loss. The whole thing made me realize that having a wife and a child of my own was…too risky an endeavor. I’ve decided I’m not cut out to be a husband or father. Some men aren’t, you know.”

Oh yes, Dominique did know. But she’d learned the lesson too late. Now she had to face the reckoning of her folly alone.

Dominique was so lost in her problems, she wasn’t aware that Marcus had moved closer until his lips were brushing a soft kiss against her cheek.

“Welcome home, Dominique,” he murmured.

Too stunned to make any sort of reply, she watched him leave the balcony, then with quivering fingers, she touched the spot where his lips had warmed her skin.

Marcus believed he wasn’t meant to be a husband or father. If Dominique was wise, she would make herself believe it, too.

Four days later, in the family room of the Stanbury palace, Dominique announced that she intended to drive out to the scene of her father’s accident and have a look for herself.

“Dominique,” Queen Josephine calmly spoke up, “the police are doing all they can. Your interference would only hinder their progress.”

Dominique turned an astounded look on her perfectly groomed mother. Sometimes Josephine’s stiff upper lip infuriated her. Putting on a strong and reserved facade for the public was one thing, but in the privacy of family, Dominique didn’t believe any of them had to keep up a show of iron will.

Her parents had been married for thirty-three years and had produced three children together. Yet there had been times when Dominique wondered about their relationship. Their marriage had been an arrangement, made between two families seeking to merge their bloodlines and further enforce their power.

Now, as she looked at her mother sitting calmly in a winged-back chair, her smooth profile turned toward the flames in the fireplace, she could only guess at the woman’s guarded emotions. Was she mourning a lost love or simply accepting that the king was dead and it was her duty to continue without him?

“What progress are you talking about, Mother? It’s been a week and they still can’t tell us what happened with Father! They can’t even find his body!”

“That hardly means you can,” Nicholas spoke up from across the room.

Dominique rolled her eyes toward the high ceiling of the massive room. “I didn’t say I could, Nick. I’m only saying I want to go look for myself. I want to see where my father supposedly lost his life.”

“Not me,” Rebecca said from a nearby armchair. “It gives me the shivers just thinking about it.”

“I’m with Rebecca. The scene is not something for the fainthearted to see.”

This was from Jake Stanbury. Close to thirty years old with a tall, lean build and dark brown hair, he was the second son of Edward, who had arrived later that morning after the king’s accident. In fact, he claimed he’d driven up on the scene shortly after it had happened and was credited with notifying the police.

Dominique didn’t actually know either of her American cousins or her Uncle Edward. Nor was she yet sure what to make of their unannounced arrival in Old Stan-bury. Especially on the very day of her father’s accident. But Josephine had immediately welcomed them home and set them up in apartments on the palace grounds. With their mother setting that sort of cordial tone, Dominique had kept her doubts to herself and since then treated the three men as family. Nicholas and Isabel also appeared to be getting along with their American relatives.

“I’m not exactly fainthearted,” Dominique said to Jake. “I can take a jolt.”

Several feet away, Marcus rose from a high-back divan and joined Dominique in the middle of the room. Earlier he’d stopped by the family living quarters to discuss a foreign-trade agreement with Nicholas, but had wound up staying longer once the subject of the accident had been brought up.

For the past few minutes he’d been discreetly watching Dominique move restlessly around the room. Her outward appearance was elegant in a dove-gray skirt and a pale pink sleeveless sweater. A single strand of pearls rested against her neck and a pearl ring circled with diamonds adorned her right hand. But though she looked quite beautiful, he could sense a tightly controlled tenseness about her which worried him. Of all the Stanburys, she seemed to be taking the loss of King Michael the hardest, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Dominique, if you want to go out to the scene that badly, I’ll take you myself. I have a few questions of my own about this investigation. Seeing the scene might help answer them,” he offered.

Grateful for his support, she looked at him with relief. “I wouldn’t want to put you out, Marcus. But if you’d really like to go, I’m certainly game.”

He smiled at her, then glanced at his wristwatch. “Just let me go home and change my clothes. I’ll pick you up in the courtyard in fifteen minutes.”

Ten minutes later Dominique was ready and standing in wait on the stone driveway at the back of the castle. When Marcus pulled up beside her in a classic little MGB, she didn’t wait for him to get out and open her door. She slid into the car and greeted him with a wide, grateful smile.

“You don’t know what a reprieve you’ve given me.” She spoke while buckling her seat belt. “I think I would have exploded if I hadn’t gotten out of there soon.”

Marcus put the sleek convertible into gear and headed them back across the drawbridge and on to the road to Old Stanbury.

“Nicholas tells me you haven’t been out of the palace since your father’s accident,” he commented.

Her sigh was weary. “No. And the place is beginning to get to me.” Grimacing, she glanced over at him. “I mean, not that I don’t like my home. But, I suppose the university has been my home for so long now that, well, I’m just not use to the confinement here at the palace. Or being constantly observed by my family. Even Pru smothers me.”

“The accident has put a strain on everyone, Dominique. I believe your mother is coping by trying to put the whole thing out of her mind.”

Her frown deepened as she considered his words. “She’s just so damn unfeeling at times I want to scream.”

He smiled indulgently. “Your mother was bred to be strong. No matter what was thrown her way.”

“Maybe so. But I happen to think the people of Edenbourg expect to see a queen weeping with tears of loss for her husband.”

He turned his head slightly and looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “Because that’s what you want to see from her?”

Dominique thought about his question for a moment. “I only know if I’d been married to a man for thirty-three years and borne him three children, I’d be stricken with grief.”

Yes, he could see where Dominique would be different from her mother, Marcus thought. Josephine was a rigidly controlled woman, whereas Dominique had appeared to grow into a passionate person. And something told him that if she did ever give her heart to a man, it would be totally, not just halfway.

“Perhaps Josephine just hides her emotions well. Some of us do.”

A glance at him suddenly reminded her of how close together the confines of the British car had put them. His shoulder was only a hand’s span from hers, and even though the vinyl top was up and the day overcast, she was near enough to see the pores in his skin and the faint afternoon shadow of his dark beard. He’d changed into khakis and a pale yellow oxford shirt. The cuffs were rolled back against forearms lightly fuzzed with fine black hair. The collar and first button of the shirt were not fastened and to her own dismay she found herself trying to peep between the loosened folds of fabric.

“Does that mean when you were going through your divorce you kept your feelings hidden? Even from your family?” she asked him.

The road had become steep and narrow. Marcus downshifted the car and kept his gaze firmly on the oncoming traffic.

“My family is just my father now. I have no brothers or sisters, if you recall. Mother died a couple years back. Complications from diabetes. At the time of my divorce, Father really wasn’t in any shape to deal with all my problems. I kept most of them concealed from him. Thankfully, we’re both doing better now.”

Was he? Dominique wondered. He’d just admitted to keeping his feelings to himself. Maybe he was still grieving for his wife and child. Maybe the pain was hidden from his eyes and camouflaged by his brief smiles. The idea bothered her greatly and she wondered just who or what it would take to get inside Marcus Kent.

Nearly thirty minutes passed before they reached the spot where the king’s car had crashed through the heavy metal railing that guarded the narrow, twisting highway.

Because the police and other intelligence forces were still investigating the site, the road was blocked and the cliffside cordoned off with bright yellow tape. Marcus was forced to leave the MGB far back down the mountain road and the two of them walked the remaining distance until stopped by an officer in a dark blue uniform.

Marcus quickly presented him with his identification and then Dominique’s. After studying it closely, the young officer went from abrupt and suspicious to embarrassed and fumbling all over himself.

“I didn’t realize you were with the royal family,” he said, then blushing, he swept off his hat and glanced sheepishly at Dominique. “I mean, I didn’t recognize you, Princess Dominique. Nor you, Mr. Kent.”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing your job and making no exceptions,” Marcus assured him. “Is it all right if we have a look around? We’ll try not to disturb anything or get in the way.”

“Of course,” he said, then practically clicking his heels with attention, he lifted the tape to usher them under. “I’ll let everyone else know who you are so that you won’t be bothered.”

The two of them thanked the officer then moved on. As they walked, Marcus teased, “How does it feel to be an unrecognized princess?”

She smiled. “Actually, I like it. I’ve never wanted to be fawned over. As if I were more special than the next person. I’m not. I happened to be born to the king and queen. If not for that, I’d be just like any other woman in Edenbourg.”

No, Marcus thought. She would never be like just any woman in this small country. Or anywhere else for that matter. She had a regal bearing, a beauty and compassion about her that made her stand out above others. The fact that she was so unpretentious made her even more appealing as a person.

Suddenly aware that she was no longer at his side, he paused and glanced back to see she’d stopped on the soggy cliffside. Her hands were planted on slender hips encased in dark blue jeans. A puzzled frown creased her forehead as she studied the highway running several yards up above them.

Stepping back to her, he asked, “What are you thinking?”

Watching her draw a deep breath, then let it out slowly, Marcus decided this whole place was cutting into her with vicious reality. Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring her out here, he thought ruefully. But for the past few days he’d watched her struggle to understand why she was now without her father. He wanted to help her come to grips with the accident and he’d hoped this little trip might help.

She looked at him thoughtfully. “It suddenly struck me that this particular road isn’t the only route Father could have taken to the abbey the morning of the christening. In fact, the other road is shorter. And being inland, it’s not nearly as treacherous as this.”

He nodded in agreement. “I had already considered that, Dominique. And you’re right. But for some reason King Michael must have chosen this route. Or he might have simply allowed the driver to choose which road he wanted to travel. I’ve seen him do that often in the past. Especially when he has business on his mind.”

“You could be right,” Dominique said as she glanced around her. “Mother does admit that he had some sort of last-minute business to attend to that morning. That’s the reason he sent her on to the abbey without him. I just wonder what could have been so important.”

Marcus’s gazed drifted out to the choppy sea. “No one seems to know. There weren’t any messages left on his phone. No scribbled notes on his desk. The night before, he didn’t mention anything to me. I’ve tried to think of a pressing issue that might have come up suddenly, but I keep coming up with a blank.”

Dominique sighed as she fought with strands of hair whipping into her face. It was a raw afternoon and she was glad she’d taken the time to change into jeans and a green, long-sleeved sweater. The tangy salt air had nipped her cheeks and nose and she knew without looking they had already turned as pink as her bare fingers.

Stuffing her hands into her jeans’ pockets for warmth, she looked at Marcus and said, “Well, I can’t help thinking the business might have had something to do with him traveling this road.”

Shrugging a shoulder, he said, “You could be right, Dominique. But it would be impossible to make any sort of connection, unless we can figure out who or what King Michael had been attending to that morning.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “And don’t you find it a bit more than strange that Jake Stanbury was traveling this same road? From what he’s saying, he couldn’t have been but a few minutes behind the accident.”

“Yes. But with only his two-year-old son to corroborate his story, I’m not sure I want to put that much stock in it,” Marcus admitted ruefully.

“Neither do I,” Dominique agreed. “Edward and Luke’s whereabouts seem fishy to me, too. Edward told Mother they had stopped off somewhere downtown before driving on to the abbey that morning. But I heard Luke say they were still at the airport when the accident occurred.” She shook her head regretfully. “It’s awful to be suspicious of your own relatives, Marcus. Especially when they’ve all continued to be so kind to us.”

“I’m hoping Edward and his sons are truly here to make amends with the family. And so far I haven’t detected anything to doubt their sincerity. But I’m not going to close my eyes completely where those three men are concerned.”

The mere notion that her American relatives might have some connection to her father’s accident sent a shiver of icy disbelief down Dominique’s spine.

Sensing her distress, Marcus put a steadying hand against her back and urged her away from the edge of the cliffs. “Come along. Let’s take a closer look and see what we can find before we start incriminating anyone.”




Chapter Three


The side of the cliff Dominique and Marcus were climbing was mostly grassy slopes broken up by rocky crevices and huge jagged boulders. At the point where the car had left the highway, it had traveled for several yards on smooth grass. The deep ruts from the tire tracks were still evident in the soggy turf.

The two of them noted the tracks were strangely straight, as though the driver hadn’t tried to cut the wheel to the right or the left in an attempt to halt the car’s destructive downward path.

At the end of the ruts, they reached a ledge of rock. Peering over the edge, they found a vertical drop of at least twenty feet to a bed of more jagged rocks. Black stains marred several of the boulders and from the plowed-up condition of the ground around them, Dominique knew this was where the car had made its final plunge before it crashed and burned.

The idea of her father and his driver perishing on the wild sea cliff was almost too much for Dominique. With a cry of anguish, she turned to Marcus and buried her face against his chest.

“Oh, Marcus, I can’t believe my father died down there.”

His arms came around her and pressed her against the warming comfort of his body. Her slender shoulders were trembling and her fingers clutched at his shirtfront. Never before had Marcus wanted to take away someone’s pain so badly. Dominique was too soft, too precious to ever hurt this much.

Pressing his cheek against the top of her head, he whispered, “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Seeing this place is only causing you more grief.”

Dominique wanted to burst into sobs, but she bit them back and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. He believed she was distraught over her father. And she was. Yet she couldn’t confide the whole truth of the matter to him. She couldn’t tell him that losing her father was only a part of the worries weighing down on her shoulders.

Marcus was a gentleman. A man of honor and integrity. He was going to be shocked and disappointed that she’d not behaved in a manner of her breeding. His opinion of her, which had always meant so much, was going to nose-dive. Once he found out about her condition, he would probably shun her. And she wasn’t quite ready for that. She needed his strength. More than he could ever know.

Shaking her head, she gulped down a sob. Then with another determined swallow, she leaned her head back far enough to allow her a view of his face. The wind had whipped his black hair across his forehead and ruddied his dark complexion. Compassion and regret clouded his golden-brown eyes, making her feel even more ashamed of herself.

“No,” she said hoarsely. “Please don’t feel badly about bringing me here. I’m glad you did.”

He frowned. “Glad? You’re trembling like a leaf, Dominique. You’re upset.”

“Yes. But I’m also a little relieved.”

His expression somber, he studied her face for long moments. “Because now you can accept that your father is really dead?”

“No. Because now I’m more certain than ever that he didn’t perish in this accident.”

His hand lifted to tenderly stroke her windblown hair. “Dominique,” he began doubtfully, “I know that you—”

Before he could finish, she twisted around in the circle of his arms and motioned toward the sight farther below them to where the ocean crashed upon the rock-strewn shoreline. Some distance out, several Coast Guard vessels bobbed on the cold, frothy waters of the North Sea.

“For the past seven days, special divers have been searching for a sign of King Michael’s body or a part of the remains,” she said. “So far they have found nothing. And I don’t believe they will.”

Marcus was trying to concentrate on her words, but it was a very hard thing to do when the warmth of her slender curves was radiating into his. Her hair carried the scent of wildflowers and tangy sea air and he found himself wanting to put his hands on her shoulders and draw her back against him. He wanted to dip his face into her hair, press his cheek against the regal line of her throat and draw in the womanly smell of her skin.

Dear Lord, he was losing all common sense, he thought. He wasn’t some sort of Romeo that chased after women years younger than himself. He didn’t chase after women period. In fact, since Liza had divorced him, he’d vowed never to let his head be turned by another one.

Allowing himself to think such physical thoughts about Dominique scared him like nothing had in ages. It was indecent and improper and downright crazy on his part. He had to get a grip on himself and fast.

Gruffly, he cleared his throat, then purposely set her aside from him. Staring out at the rough seas, he forced himself to remember his dead king and the allegiance he owed him even now.

“What makes you think they won’t find King Michael’s body? Do you know something all these investigators don’t?” he asked her.

She flushed at his question, but refused to relent. “I know it probably sounds absurd to you, Marcus. I’m just a naive young woman who doesn’t know anything about accident scenes or investigations. But King Michael is my father. And I know I would feel something more if he were truly dead. Something inside would tell me to let him go and say goodbye. Besides,” she added more firmly, “just take a look down there where the car finally landed. The whole area is surrounded by high boulders. It would be highly improbable that his body continued to roll down to the sea. The rocks would have prevented such a thing.”

Trying to keep an open mind about all points of view was one of the reasons Marcus had risen to the lofty position of king’s high counsel. Not that his quick intelligence hadn’t helped. It had. But smartness wasn’t the final thing that had propelled him into the prestigious job. It had been his ability to look at things from all angles that had singled him out and set him above the others serving on the king’s administrative staff.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/stella-bagwell/the-expectant-princess/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.