Stefano looked utterly perplexed. “You’d rather not know how much I love you?”
“Of course I want to know that.” The man simply didn’t understand. “I love you, too. That much should be obvious. It’s just that…Never mind,” she cried. “Go and marry your heiress!” She walked several feet away from him and wiped the moisture from her cheeks while she attempted to compose herself.
She didn’t hear him until he was directly behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and brought his lips close to her ear. “I cannot bear to see you cry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, and shrugged one shoulder. “I’m a big girl, I’ll get over you. I mean…I fell in love with you fast enough, it shouldn’t be that difficult to forget you.” That wasn’t true, but she was looking to salvage her pride by making light of her feelings.
His grip on her tightened. “Pietro wants to schedule our return flight to San Lorenzo for tomorrow afternoon,” he whispered.
She stiffened. “So soon?”
“I’ll agree to his schedule if you tell me you don’t want to see me again. But if…if there’s a chance you’d consider meeting me for the next two or three nights, then I’ll rearrange my schedule to be sure I stay in Seattle a bit longer.”
“You’re asking the impossible,” she cried. She couldn’t bear to have him hold her, knowing there would soon be another woman in his arms. Couldn’t allow him to kiss her, knowing he’d soon be kissing another.
“I know,” he said in a tortured whisper. “We have so little time together. Forgive me, my love, for being self-indulgent. I should have realized I’ve asked the impossible.”
“Stefano,” she whispered, and her hands covered his.
He turned her into his arms and brought his mouth down to hers in a moist, gentle kiss. The pressure of his touch changed the moment Hope responded. He kissed her again and again with a growing desperation, an urgency that left her clinging and struggling for breath when he finished.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, He kissed her once more, and his lips brushed her nose, her cheek, her ear. She heard a sigh rumble through his chest. He paused, seemed to draw upon his reserve of strength, and with some effort eased himself away from her.
“I’ll take you home now,” he said.
She nodded.
They rode back in silence, with none of the urgency with which they’d sped away. Sometime later, he came to a stop in her driveway. Climbing off the bike first, he helped her dismount and then escorted her to the front door.
Neither spoke. Their eyes met and he smiled weakly. “Thank you, Hope.” He pressed his hand against her face and rubbed his thumb over the arch of her cheek. His eyes were filled with pain. “I don’t know if I have the courage to walk away from you,” he told her in a broken whisper.
“Then don’t,” she whimpered and flung herself into his arms. “Not yet. We’ll worry about tomorrow later. For now we have each other.”
Stefano dared not look at his watch again for fear the Rutherfords would think he was pressed for time. He wasn’t. It was another three hours before he could see Hope again. If anything, he wanted the time to pass more quickly. j “I’m so pleased you could join me,” he said, as the small group reviewed the menu selections. Personally, Stefano wasn’t hungry. Hope had promised him a tour of the rain forest and a picnic. It would be a shame if brunch with the Rutherfords ruined that.
“The pleasure is all ours,” Elizabeth Rutherford assured him. “Isn’t that right, Priscilla?”
The woman seemed to prod her daughter at every turn. It had been a mistake to invite her parents, he realized. Stefano would have enjoyed the meal with Priscilla, but with her family present—especially her mother—the brunch was sure to be an ordeal.
“We are honored by your invitation,” Priscilla said in a monotone, as if she’d been forced to rehearse the line countless times.
Stefano’s gaze drifted toward Pietro who wore a deep frown. The prince didn’t fully understand what was going on with his secretary. For years Pietro had accompanied him to endless state dinners, and other social functions. He often used his secretary as a buffer against the curious, and meddling dowagers, keen on marrying him off to their daughters and granddaughters.
Stefano had sensed his secretary’s reluctance the minute he asked Pietro to join him with the Rutherfords. He’d offered a weak excuse, which Stefano rejected, and afterward Pietro was tight-lipped and sullen.
Even now Pietro sat stiffly at the table as if he’d rather be anyplace else but with the prince and the Rutherfords. Frankly, Pietro’s attitude was beginning to irritate him.
Stefano had once considered Pietro his friend. Now he was no longer sure. Although nothing more had been said between them regarding Pietro’s resignation, it was understood that once they returned to San Lorenzo, Pietro would hire his replacement, train him and leave Stefano’s employment.
Apparently the prince had committed some terrible crime, other than his treatment of Priscilla, which, frankly, Stefano didn’t think was so bad.
He liked Priscilla, and knew the feeling would grow once he got her away from her mother’s clutches. Already he had a tender spot in his heart for her. It didn’t compare to the fiery intensity of feeling he shared with Hope, but over time he believed Priscilla and he would be happy. As happy as any man could be in his situation.
“My husband and I were discussing your invitation to visit San Lorenzo,” Elizabeth said, breaking into his thoughts.
Stefano focused his attention on Priscilla’s mother. “Naturally I’d want you to stay at the palace.”
Elizabeth exchanged appreciative looks with her husband as if she’d somehow manipulated the invitation from him.
“We certainly wouldn’t want to intrude on your royal business,” the elder Rutherford inserted.
“Darling, the prince wouldn’t have invited us if we were going to be a nuisance, isn’t that right, Prince Stefano?”
“Most certainly.”
“From what I understand, San Lorenzo has some of the best hotels in all of Europe,” Priscilla’s father said, as if he’d be just as happy in a hotel as a guest in the palace.
“That’s true.” Stefano didn’t mention that a good portion of those world-class hotels sat vacant and were struggling to stay afloat in the current economic slump.
“If you wish,” Stefano said, glancing at his secretary, “I could have Pietro arrange rooms for you at the Empress at my expense. It is our finest hotel, and I’m sure you’d be most comfortable.”
“Nonsense,” Elizabeth said quickly. “We’d prefer the palace. It isn’t everyone who can say they’ve slept there, now can they?” She laughed lightly at her own joke, but Stefano noticed no one joined in her amusement.
After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Elizabeth once more picked up the conversation, directing her comment to her daughter. “You should tell the prince about your charity work, Priscilla.”
“Mother, please. If Prince Stefano wants to hear about my work at the Children’s Hospital, he can ask me himself.”
It pleased Stefano that the Rutherfords’ daughter revealed a little pluck. He was beginning to despair.
Priscilla glared at her mother and it did Stefano’s heart good to see her mother squirm just a bit. He might have lessened the older woman’s discomfort by inquiring about Priscilla’s charity efforts, but he decided against it.
“How long will you be in Seattle?” the elder Rutherford inquired of Pietro.
“I’ve arranged to depart early tomorrow morning,” his secretary answered.
“Change that,” Stefano said.
“Change the arrangements?” Pietro asked and glared at him.
“I’ve decided to remain in this beautiful city for three more days. There’s some sightseeing I want to do. With my current schedule I rarely have the opportunity to become properly acquainted with an area. Seattle strikes my fancy.”
If looks could kill, Stefano would
be mortally wounded. Pietro all but rose from his chair. Although he did an adequate job of restraining himself, Stefano wasn’t fooled.
Whatever it was that was troubling his friend had gone on far too long. At first opportunity Stefano planned on confronting his secretary. The man hadn’t been the same from the moment they landed in Seattle.
As it happened, the opportunity arose soon after the meal with the Rutherfords. Stefano and Pietro rode up in the elevator to the series of suites set aside for him on the nineteenth floor.
“I’d like a word with you,” Pietro said the moment they were alone.
“If you insist.”
“I do.” It seemed Pietro was about to explode. His jaw was set and tight, and his hands were clenched at his sides.
The elevator doors rushed open and Stefano led the way into his private quarters. “What’s wrong? Something’s been troubling you from the moment we arrived, and I want to know what it is.”
Pietro started to pace, a habit that relieved his tension. “I’d already made the arrangements to leave Seattle tomorrow morning.”
Stefano shrugged. “Change them. You’ve done so often enough in the past. Why does it bother you so much now?”
His friend’s mouth tightened. “If you insist upon staying this additional time, then I’d like to request your permission to return to San Lorenzo on my own.”
“Absolutely not.” Stefano didn’t need time to consider his response. Not a day passed in which Stefano didn’t require his secretary’s assistance. To have Pietro return ahead of him would place an unnecessary burden on Stefano.
Pietro mumbled a profanity under his breath.
“Pietro,” the prince said, thoughtfully studying his friend.” Can you tell me what plagues you?”
His secretary stiffened. “No.”
“Ĭ can’t order you, but as your friend, I would hope you could share with me what’s wrong. If I’ve done something to offend you, let’s clear the air.”
“It’s nothing you’ve done,” Pietro assured him. He slumped into a chair and buried his face in his hands. “I apologize for my behavior.”
Stefano could press his friend for details, but he preferred that Pietro would offer them willingly. He didn’t.
“I have an appointment this afternoon,” Stefano said.
Pietro nodded, without inquiring as to the prince’s plans. Generally his secretary was as conscientious as his bodyguard of his whereabouts and schedule.
“Perhaps we can talk more later,” Stefano suggested.
“Perhaps,” Pietro agreed.
But Stefano doubted they would. It saddened him to think he had lost the best friend he’d ever had, especially when he hadn’t a clue why.
Pietro sat in his compact office, staring out of the window. The view from the nineteenth floor was spectacular. Puget Sound shone like a polished jewel in the sunlight. Ferries and an abundance of oceangoing vessels patrolled the waterways. But the beauty of the scene escaped him.
A knock sounded against his door. “Come in,” he called.
A footman opened the door and approached the desk. “The front desk sent this up. It’s addressed to you.”
“Thank you.” Pietro waited until the man had left the room before tearing open the envelope. He knew before he read a single word that the message was from Priscilla.
I’m sorry to trouble you, she wrote, but it’s vitally important that I speak to you at your earliest convenience. I’ll wait in the lobby for your reply. He read the note and wiped a hand down his face.
After having spent an uncomfortable hour and a half in her presence, Pietro wasn’t sure he could endure much more. His restraint was stretched to the breaking point. It had demanded every ounce of self-control he possessed not to make a scene with Priscilla and her mother. Elizabeth Rutherford was a fool. Somehow he didn’t think the prince would appreciate it if he’d pointed it out to him.
Knowing there was no help for it, Pietro rang for the footman and asked that Priscilla be escorted to his office.
The pair returned within five minutes. It was clear that Priscilla had returned home and changed clothes. Instead of the dove-gray suit that didn’t do her beauty justice, she wore a simple sleeveless summer dress and a wide-brimmed hat.
Pietro was literally stung by her beauty. It took him a moment to recover.
“Hello, Priscilla,” he offered, and gestured for her to sit down.
“Pietro.” She sat and clasped her hands in her lap. “Thank you for seeing me. I imagine after the spectacle this morning, you were wishing you never had to lay eyes on me again.”
Actually, quite the opposite was true. The temptation to carry her away had nearly been his undoing. He couldn’t tolerate the demeaning way in which her family treated her, as if her personal value rested solely in Prince Stefano’s attention.
That Prince Stefano was prepared to marry Priscilla for her fortune troubled him. But seeing that he’d been the one to handpick Priscilla Rutherford from the list of potential brides, he couldn’t very well object. He, too, had discredited the woman who innocently sat across from him. Now he was left to pay the piper.
“I don’t mean to be a nuisance,” she said, her gaze avoiding his.
“You could never be that,” he assured her, hoping to keep their conversation on a professional level, and immediately failing. It was when it swayed toward the personal that he lost control. Twice now he’d held and kissed the woman who was destined to be the princess of San Lorenzo. If Stefano had so much as a hint of his feelings for Priscilla, he’d have him banished, and with reason.
“I was wondering if you could arrange for me to meet the prince alone,” Priscilla asked.
“Alone?”
“Yes. Wherever we’re together, there are always a number of people around…and that makes it extremely difficult for us to speak privately.”
“I see.” His mind was working double-time, wondering what it was Priscilla Rutherford had to say to the prince that had to be said when they weren’t other around.
“Since it appears we’re going to be in the area a few days longer than I’d anticipated, I’ll see what I can do,” Pietro said. He opened a small ledger where he wrote in the prince’s appointments.
He paused when he saw that there was nothing written down for the prince that afternoon. Yet he distinctly remembered Stefano mentioning an appointment.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
“Of course.”
Pietro stepped out of the office and called for a footman. “Is Antonio with the prince?”
“No, sir. We assumed Prince Stefano was with you.”
“He isn’t.” Pietro didn’t know what kind of childish games the prince was playing, but this was getting out of hand. “Send Antonio up to my office right away.”
“Yes, sir.” The footman disappeared and he stepped back inside his office and smiled at Priscilla.
“I’ll contact you later with a time,” he said.
“Thank you.”
She didn’t leave as he expected she would. “There’s something else,” she said, and her shoulders rose as if it had required a good deal of courage for her to broach the subject.
“Yes?” Pietro said, looking at his watch. He didn’t want to be rude, but he had a minor crisis on his hands.
“It’s about-”
She was interrupted by a loud knock against the door.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
Defeated, she lowered her head and nodded.
“I apologize, Priscilla, but this is necessary.”
“I know,” she said, smiling bravely up at him.
Pietro met the bodyguard on the other side of the door and glared accusingly at the muscle-bound young man. “Where’s the prince?”
“I’m…not sure.”
“As I recall, this is the second time the prince has left without your protection.”
“Sir, I don’t mean to complain, but how was I supposed to know the m
an who’d dressed up like Elvis was Prince Stefano? And then last night…”
“You mean he left unescorted last night, as well?”
“Yes. I thought you knew.”
Pietro ran his hand through his hair. “No. Where did he go this time?”
“I don’t know. I lost him someplace in Ballard. His motorcycle squeezed between a bus and a car, and I couldn’t catch him after that.”
“He was on a motorcycle?”
“Yes. From what I understand, he paid one of the hotel staff for the use of it.”
Pietro splayed his fingers at his sides in an exercise in frustration. “And you don’t have a clue where he is right now?”
“Not exactly.”
“How about a wild guess?” Pietro was desperate. He was willing to speculate.
Antonio shrugged his massive shoulders. “I can’t rightly say.”
It came to Pietro that he should fire the man on the spot, but he’d wait until later after he’d confronted Stefano. He didn’t know what had gotten into the prince.
Dressing up like Elvis, riding around on a motorcycle and now this.
“I want you to report to me the minute the prince returns.”
“Yes, sir,” James said stiffly.
Dragging a calming breath through his lungs, Pietro opened the door and entered his office. To his surprise Priscilla was standing.
“My apologies, Priscilla. There was something you wanted to tell me.”
She nodded, smiled and then casually, as if she’d been doing so for years, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Chapter Eight
HOPE STUDIED PRINCE Stefano’s features as they stood inside the Visitor Center at Hurricane Ridge. The unobstructed view of the Olympic Mountain range with its peaks, deep valleys and ridges stretched before them, paralleling the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Hope had never been to Europe or witnessed the splendor of the Alps, and she wondered what the prince would think of her world, so different and yet so much like his own.
“It takes my breath away,” he said in awe.
“Some of those mountains remain unexplored,” she told him.
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