Princess

by Alison Fraser

  ‘Who’s John?’ Adam abruptly cut in, denying his apparent absorption in his cigar and brandy—and was surprised when Serena answered quickly,

  ‘Just a friend.’ Her direct look defied him to probe.

  ‘He’s more than that,’ Nancy protested, unwittingly undermining Serena’s attempt to kill the subject. ‘Serena’s too shy to tell you, Adam. John’s the good news I hinted at weeks ago. I was going to leave Serena to tell you in her own good time, but...’

  ‘Nancy!’ Serena pleaded.

  ‘Well, as Serena is too shy to tell me,’ Adam drawled with assumed nonchalance, ‘perhaps you’d better, Mother.’

  ‘He’s a local boy with a very good background. Serena and he met while she was out riding one day in early November, and—well, it was almost love at first sight,’ Nancy said happily, and stretching out to pour more coffee, missed the two pairs of eyes that met and locked, as she ran on, ‘Anyway, just before your return he asked Serena to marry him, after having the good manners to ask me, of course.’

  ‘Have you accepted?’ Adam ground out, his dark thunderous stare willing her to deny it.

  Serena’s ‘Not yet’ and his mother’s ‘It’s only a matter of time’ were simultaneous.

  ‘Stay out of this, Mother,’ Adam instructed briskly. ‘Which is it, Serena?’

  ‘It has nothing whatsoever to do with you!’ Serena shot back in the same tone as she had told him to mind his own damn business earlier in the day, before lowering her eyes dismissively.

  He rose from the armchair where he had been lounging with a deceptive casualness and crossing the space that separated them, went down on his haunches directly in front of her. Ignoring his mother’s startled exclamation, he gripped Serena’s chin and forced her to look at him.

  ‘Oh, but it has, Princess—make no mistake. As my ward you can’t marry without my consent until you’re twenty-one.’ Time suspended, he felt her eyes duelling with his and respected the way she stared unflinchingly back at him.

  His mother interrupted the silent contest of wills with an incredulous, ‘Adam, you can’t be serious! That’s old-fashioned nonsense!’

  Reluctantly he released the girl and straightened to face Nancy Carmichael, his normal detachment slotting back in place as he announced unequivocally, ‘Oh, but I am—deadly serious.’ The clause was specifically inserted in the will. And then as though the matter was sealed, he strolled back to his chair.

  For a moment his mother was speechless. Her gaze flickered from Adam to alight on Serena, motionless and silent. Nevertheless Nancy was not content to leave it there.

  ‘You have no right to interfere with Serena’s plans!’

  ‘Are you sure they’re hers, and not yours, Mother dear?’ he queried meaningfully.

  Nancy was visibly distressed by his pointed accusation. It was true she was very keen on the match, had perhaps encouraged it, but only because John and Serena seemed so right for each other.

  ‘John’s a very nice boy,’ she stressed defensively.

  ‘Nice—mm,’ Adam repeated consideringly. ‘What other inspiring qualities does he possess?’ He could see that Serena recognised the sarcasm for what it was, her lips tightening into a thin line, but she made no effort to leap to John’s defence. It pleased him.

  His mother took the question literally. ‘He’s pleasant and easy-going, and twenty-four, just the right age for Serena. They’re very lucky, because John owns quite a large farm, so they won’t be forced to wait if they decide to...’

  ‘Well, they’ll have to wait,’ Adam cut incisively into his mother’s enthusiasm. ‘At least six months, anyway.’

  ‘What possible reason have you for objecting?’ his mother demanded with an unfamiliar stridency.

  Adam narrowed his eyes and hedged the question with an unconvincing, ‘She’s far too young to know her own mind.’

  ‘Whose mind—yours or hers?’ Nancy used his own ammunition with a surprising vehemence, but she felt the fight was important.

  Serena had sat silent throughout the increasingly heated exchange, and they had all but forgotten her presence. Her apparent calmness was all the more effective in contrast to their anger.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to bed and leave the two of you to arrange the rest of my life for me.’

  Not waiting for a reaction to her quiet statement, she rose from her armchair and walked out of the room.

  ‘Damn, damn, damn!’ Adam swore softly under his breath.

  Nancy went to follow Serena and then hovered uncertainly in the middle of the room. Turning back, she appealed to Adam, ‘Should I go after her?’

  ‘No, Mother,’ Adam sighed heavily. There was not a doubt about the pride that had tilted that fair head. ‘I think she’s just about had enough of both of us for one evening.’

  Nancy sank wearily down on the sofa once more, and Adam, discerning his mother’s tiredness, crossed to the cabinet and poured out a glass of brandy.

  ‘Drink this down,’ Adam urged, joining her on the sofa.

  Choking slightly on the spirit, Nancy muttered distraughtly, ‘I didn’t mean... I don’t want to order her life like that.’

  ‘I know, Mother, and so does Serena,’ Adam was quick to reassure. He groaned when he remembered his own contribution to events. No arrogance, just a fine sense of panic when his mother had started ringing wedding bells in his ears. ‘I’m sure she sees me as the villain of the piece.’

  Some of his quiet despair reached Nancy.

  ‘Adam,’ she started tentatively, ‘why did you say that— about not letting her marry John, I mean?’

  ‘Because I meant it. I still do.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Why are you so anxious to see her married?’ Adam hedged, but was careful to keep accusation out of his tone this time. The last thing he wanted to do was upset his mother. ‘I thought you liked looking after her.’

  ‘I do—of course I do. It’s been like a new lease of life, but I won’t be around for ever. I want to see her settled, and John—with John, she’s...’

  ‘Safe,’ Adam supplied, an edge creeping back into his voice.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Nancy protested, and made things worse with, John Saxon’s a nice solid young man.’

  And maybe Adam wanted to interpret solid as dull, but he was genuinely on Serena’s side when he retorted, ‘Doesn’t she deserve more than that?’ Only the impassioned plea left a taste of hypocrisy in his mouth, for he wanted the girl for himself and he wasn’t too sure if he’d let his own unsuitability get in the way.

  ‘Adam,’ she warned, ‘Serena needs security. I don’t want her hurt.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ he shot back too aggressively. He was trying to make peace with his own conscience and he certainly didn’t need a share in his mother’s.

  ‘Then please, Adam, stay away from her,’ Nancy pleaded.

  ‘No, I won’t do that.’

  ‘Or do you mean can’t?’

  ‘Whichever,’ he muttered coldly.

  ‘You gave me your word.’

  ‘I promised to be polite and friendly,’ he reminded her precisely. ‘Well, I’ve been polite and now I intend to be friendly.’

  ‘How friendly?’ Nancy urged, following him as he rose.

  ‘As friendly as she’ll let me be to her.’

  ‘Adam, I don’t think she...’ Nancy hesitated as she clutched his sleeve, ‘Serena... I saw it tonight, but I didn’t want to believe it... she hates you.’

  Adam laughed shortly, ‘Well, that’s an improvement!’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘She told me she was completely indifferent to me.’ His eyes looked dark at the memory and he continued, fiercely, mindless of hiding anything now, ‘I’d sooner she hated me—they do say it’s more akin to love.’

  ‘No, not with this girl, not with Serena,’ Nancy prayed silently, hoping she was misreading the situation. ‘Pride, Let it be only male pride that’s hurting him.’


  ‘Is that why you’re trying to spoil things between John and her—because she hasn’t fallen for you like other women do?’

  Adam was unaffected by his mother’s suggestion, for the memory of those green eyes upturned to his face willed him to affirm his feelings. He could have lied. Afterwards he was sorry he hadn’t, but the admission rushed from him with a cutting clarity.

  ‘I love her, Mother... so much it hurts just to look at her.’

  Nancy Carmichael shook her neat silvered head from side to side, a low moan escaping her lips. ‘Because she’s so beautiful?’

  ‘No,’ Adam denied it was just sexual attraction. ‘She’s more, much more than that...’

  ‘No, Adam...’ Nancy gasped, frightened by the fever in his touch as he gripped her arms. ‘She’s not like that... not for you, son. And I can’t stand back and wait to pick up the pieces when you’ve finished with her.’

  ‘I want to marry her, Mother. Help me. Or don’t stand in my way. And if there are any broken pieces, I swear they won’t belong to Serena.’

  ‘I can’t stop you, son,’ Nancy reasoned, loyalties torn in two directions. ‘You are my son and I love you, but I don’t think you and Serena could ever...’

  Unfinished the sentence hung between them, till they embraced, and Adam, realising the strength of his mother’s love and the nature of her dilemma, added softly, ‘Neither do I, Mother, but I won’t give up till she tells me to.’

  * * *

  Bastard! Serena threw herself face down on the bed, thumping her pillow. Angry with herself for being stupid enough to have taken up his challenge. To have put on her loveliest dress—only to have him looking at her throughout the meal as though she was one of the courses! She had sensed those grey eyes on her and twice she had looked up, to have the impression confirmed by Adam Carmichael’s steady unabashed smile. Her rude glare had only made him smile wider, and only Nancy at the head of the table stopped her from snapping his good-looking head off.

  Serena rolled over and fixed her thoughts on how she could have got her own back if only they had been alone. She would have told him, in no uncertain terms, how to keep those false charms for women gullible enough to fall for them, and any possible increase in the rate of her heartbeat she firmly put down to the effort of suppressing her anger. He must think her a fool!

  But then wasn’t that just the point? Wasn’t that exactly what he did think, what Andrea’s will had implied—that he dictate her future?

  By the time Serena had changed into her nightclothes and climbed into bed, the fury in her had died away, to be replaced by a feeling of despair whose origins lay only partly in his treatment of her as less than normal. Calm enough to hear the soft footfall outside her door, followed by a gentle knock, she was too hurt to be soothed by the muffled, ‘I’m sorry, Princess,’ but managed to inject some iciness into her response of, ‘Go away!’

  She turned her face back to seek comfort in her pillow. And although Adam knew his apology was far from adequate he was miles away from understanding the feeling behind the cold rejection, as he went back downstairs and resisted the temptation to drown his sorrows in a whisky bottle.

  That afternoon he hadn’t padded round her feelings, hadn’t been as over-protective as the others seemed to think necessary. He hadn’t treated her as a thing too delicate for emotional strain, and felt sure his abrasiveness had refreshed rather than cut. He had been a little cruel, and a lot sarcastic, but he had never doubted her ability to take it from the moment her green eyes flashed in defiance.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The weeks passed without further incident. Despite the fact that Serena no longer made a point of missing evening meals, she either spent them looking through Adam or staring vacantly into space. Any remarks he directed at her were answered with a monosyllabic stupidity that grew irritating and then infuriating with its deliberateness. And always in the background there was Nancy, hovering like a mother hen over her chick. Six months, he gave himself. Then he would give it up. Yet deep down he knew he was lying to himself—that he would only leave the day she married someone else.

  Unable to start another novel, he was totally preoccupied with her. His days were spent monitoring her movements as the long holiday from college found her painting or riding or out in his mother’s specially acquired Mini— anywhere but in the house.

  Adam didn’t realise she was aware of his watching until one day she turned around after mounting her horse and rode up to the side terrace where he was standing.

  ‘Why are you spying on me, Mr Carmichael?’ she demanded with cold aggression.

  He smiled up at her, lying smoothly, ‘I didn’t think I was. I like horses.’

  ‘Then buy one,’ she snapped her annoyance, ‘then you won’t have to watch mine all the time!’

  ‘I just might,’ he returned pleasantly, coming forward to stroke the blaze of white on the chestnut’s nose. ‘Will you come riding with me if I do?’

  The question earned him a cold measuring look before her lips shaped derisively to offer, ‘Why not?’ She obviously assumed he had never been on a horse in his life and was calling his bluff. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  Adam’s smile broadened, as though he took her words at face value, and Serena, losing her patience with him, gathered the reins and cantered away down the rear driveway.

  Three mornings later he was waiting at the entrance to the stables, wearing black jeans and polo-neck, and an old sports jacket of fawn cord.

  ‘Good morning, Princess,’ he called as she hesitated at the far end of the stable.

  It brought her nearer. ‘You’re up early, Mr Carmichael.’

  She might look like a breath of fresh air, but the hard suspicion in her voice was definitely a damper on the spirits. ‘If you’re trying to irritate by continually addressing me so formally, then you’ll be delighted to hear you’re succeeding.’

  The fair head lifted a fraction higher as she claimed sullenly, ‘I was taught to be respectful to my elders.’

  Damn it, he wasn’t that old! Adam thought defensively, and growled, ‘Keep that up, Princess, and you just might get the spanking your childish behaviour deserves!’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she flared back.

  ‘My fingers have been itching for weeks,’ he affirmed with a mock-serious tone.

  Whether she recognised his threat as banter was debatable, for she countered with a vehement, ‘I’m not frightened by bogeymen any more.’

  ‘Is that how you see me?’ A frown puckered her forehead and Adam gained the impression that she felt she had given something away, but her recovery was quick.

  ‘As I rarely think about you,’ she uttered disdainfully, ‘I don’t see you as anything.’

  ‘Still indifferent, then?’ he challenged softly.

  ‘Completely.’ She moved to stand directly in front of him, as though to prove it, and muttered tautly, ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me...’

  He continued to bar her entrance to the stable. ‘Wait a moment. I’ve got a surprise for you.’

  ‘Don’t you think I’m a bit old for this?’ She sounded bored.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. After all, you’re still young enough to show a healthy respect for your elders,’ Adam replied, using her earlier sarcasm against her.

  And there was frustration in her, ‘Are you never lost for words?’

  ‘Not often,’ he laughed, still leaning on the stable door.

  Serena looked on the verge of walking off back to the house, but finally she drawled, ‘Do I have to close my eyes and count to ten?’

  ‘Only if you want to.’ Adam threw his head back and laughed. Did he imagine an answering smile on her lips, quickly tightened to a grim line? Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he briefly touched her upper arms. ‘Just stand there.’

  He disappeared into the dim recesses of the stable, swore as he knocked over a food bucket, then re-emerged in a matter of seconds. And he didn’t imagine her look
of unalloyed delight as he led the white stallion into the yard; he was glad he’d given way to the crazy impulse to buy the magnificent animal.

  ‘His name’s White Lightning. Not very original, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Can I touch him?’

  The loving admiration in her eyes was almost too much for Adam; how absurd, he realised, to be jealous of a horse.

  ‘Of course,’ he matched her quiet tone.

  With infinite tenderness she stroked the horse’s back and then its head, all the time murmuring small nonsense words of reassurance, until the animal, recognising a potential friend, responded by nuzzling her gently with his long proud head.

  ‘How high is he?’ It was the first time she had spoken to Adam with complete naturalness and he was nervous of causing her withdrawal.

  ‘Sixteen hands.’

  ‘He’s beautiful,’ Serena whispered with a wonder that said she was definitely not too old to be treated to surprises.

  ‘Yes, I suppose he is.’ But Adam’s eyes were not on the expensive thoroughbred but staring avidly at her profile.

  ‘Can I ride him?’ she asked, appeal brightening her voice and the green eyes turned towards him.

  Adam cursed himself for his stupidity in not foreseeing the possibility. If he didn’t allow her on the horse, they would be back to square one, but there was no way he was going to chance her breaking her beautiful neck.

  ‘I’m afraid not, Princess.’ Immediately her change of expression told him the spell cast by White Lightning was broken.

  ‘Why not?’ she quizzed.

  ‘He’s too big for you,’ Adam trod softly.

  ‘I’m not scared,’ she pursued, ‘and I am a good rider.’

  ‘Look, I have grave doubts about handling him myself, far less a little thing like you.’

  Serena totally missed the tenderness in his voice and her own was vibrant with anger. ‘Congratulations, Mr Carmichael!’ she snapped.

  ‘For what?’ he frowned.

  ‘I think you know.’

  Her tone struck him like a blow to the stomach; she actually believed he had deliberately taunted her with the horse to gain some malicious pleasure in refusing to let her ride it! Sometimes he wondered why he bothered with this girl who was glaring fiercely back at him. She was prickly, unforgiving, and quite often downright rude. If someone had asked him right at that moment, Miss Serena Jane Templeton didn’t deserve him!