Romancing the Crown Series

by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)

  Suddenly the crease in her forehead vanished, as her eyebrows shot upward, "/can do it?"

  "Of course you can. As I said, you're smart, you're quick. And you have a good heart. It won't be hard for you to come to love my people, just as my mother did."

  She was staring at him, so incredulously that he stopped the flow of words that he knew had begun to sound like a desperate sales pitch. It was a moment before she spoke, and when she did her voice was tight, each word enunciated carefully and precisely.

  "Somewhere in that job description you just presented me, was there the suggestion that this paragon who's going to succeed your mother is.. .me?"

  Lucas's brows lowered in puzzlement. "Who else?"

  Luke held tight in her arms, Jessie got to her feet, still staring at him. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't that require a marriage?"

  He blinked. "Well, of course."

  " That was your idea of a marriage proposal?"

  As Lucas looked at her, saw her slender body quiver as she clutched the baby to her, he knew he'd made the biggest mistake yet.

  Chapter 7

  Jessie knew she would have said yes to Joe in an instant, never mind that he had had few prospects and no idea who he really was or where he'd come from. None of that would have mattered beside what she felt for him. She knew what really counted.

  But this formal, frightening man, who spoke of nothing but duty and responsibility, she didn't know at all.

  Without another word, she quickly retreated from the kitchen, deciding abruptly that it was time to take Luke upstairs for his bath. Lucas, with more perception than she wanted to credit him with at the moment, stayed silent and remained where he was.

  When Eliya appeared to lay out towels and clean clothes for the baby, Jessie seized the opportunity to speak to the quiet, unobtrusive woman.

  "Tell me, Eliya. Are you from Montebello?"

  "I was born there," the woman said. "I lived in England for a short while, but I was terribly homesick. I will not live anywhere else again."

  "Is it so wonderful, then?"

  The woman's eyes lit up. "It is the most beautiful place on earth. You will see, as soon as you get there, you will think so, too."

  Jessie eyed the woman warily. "What makes you think I'm going there?"

  The woman's eyes widened. "But of course you will. Prince Lucas wishes it."

  She couldn't have said anything more likely to make Jessie angry. "And Prince Lucas," she drawled, her voice dripping sarcasm now, "always gets what he wants?"

  The woman's forehead creased deeply, as if she were trying to figure out what she had said that could possibly have irritated anyone. "Perhaps not always, but any woman would consider herself most lucky to become his wife, and someday queen of Montebello."

  "Not any woman," Jessie said grimly. "Not this woman."

  "But you are Prince Luke's mother. Of course you will wed him. Prince Luke must have his mother with him. Besides.. .what woman would not want to be a princess?"

  "One who's perfectly happy where she is."

  Eliya frowned. "But surely you would not turn down Prince Lucas. You would one day be queen. It is such an honor."

  It just wasn't love, Jessie thought. "Is it?" she asked. "It sounds to me like a life full of duty and etiquette and not much else."

  "But of course it is an honor. Although you are right, the royal family does take its obligations very seriously," Eliya agreed.

  There are many obligations....

  Was proposing to her—in that cold, emotionless way—simply another obligation? Had he come to her only because she was the mother of his child? Or only because she was the mother of the heir to the throne? It certainly wasn't because he needed her to take care of Luke. He could afford a herd of nannies as efficient as the competent Eliya.

  Or worse yet, had he come to her under orders, perhaps from his father the king, to bring his heir home to Montebello no matter what it took?

  She shivered, and rubbed her arms. She tried to distract herself with more questions.

  "Are you married, Eliya?"

  "I was. My husband died some years ago."

  "I'm sorry."

  "He had been ill for some time. It was sad, and I miss him still, but he was ready to go." She gave Jessie a sideways look. "I would have been in a very bad way had it not been for King Marcus. My husband was in his service, and when he died, the king made certain I was taken care of. And when Prince Luke was brought to us, he did me the great honor of entrusting his grandson's care to me."

  Jessie ignored the rather obvious attempt to sway her. "Did you love your husband?"

  "Yes. Very much."

  "It wasn't a marriage of.. .duty?"

  To Jessie's surprise, the woman blushed. Her dark eyes sparkled as she answered, "Oh, no. It was a marriage of passion. As yours will be."

  It was Jessie's turn to blush. She opened her mouth to deny the woman's statement, but realized the very presence of Luke would make her words suspect.

  But while there might be traces left of that passion that had sparked between her and Joe, there had certainly been no love in that business-like presentation that Prince Lucas Sebastiani had apparently intended as a marriage proposal. It had been as juiceless as granite.

  It wasn't until later, when she put the baby down for a nap, that it struck her.

  She'd been dwelling entirely on what was to her an impossible dilemma—how could she say yes to such a dry, heartless proposal? It was worse than no proposal at all. She was a simple Colorado rancher, and the entire idea of a royal life scared her to death. A royal life without love would be the proverbial fate worse than death.

  And then she realized that the question wasn't just how could she possibly accept a proposal tendered as dryly as a job offer. There was more to it than that. Much more. She wasn't sure she could accept even if the offer had come with a passionate declaration of undying love. Because even if it had come that way, it didn't change her fear of the whole idea. Life in a fishbowl, always under observation, always having to be mindful of every action, every word, because it might reflect upon king and country.

  Not to mention that the idea of living under a monarchy rankled. Britain, where the monarch was mostly ceremonial, was one thing; a king who actually ruled by right of hereditary succession was something else. Even though it appeared King Marcus was devoted to his people, it was still utterly foreign to her American psyche.

  Then again, there had been some real prizes elected to the highest office in the United States, she thought wryly, so who was to say the odds of getting a good one might not be about the same?

  With a sigh, she pulled a lightweight blanket up over her son's tiny form, then tucked it around him carefully. And for a long time she stood looking down at him, soaking in the pleasure of simply having him, while at the same time trying to envision this tiny little boy as, someday, the man who would be king. She couldn't do it.

  ... there is no other option.

  Lucas's words echoed ominously in her mind. She felt panic welling up inside her, and quickly stepped out of the room, stopping only to let Eliya know to keep an eye on the baby as he slept.

  She ran downstairs to the kitchen, intending to retrieve her boots and heavy sheepskin jacket from the rack in the mudroom and take a head-clearing ride on Brat.

  Mrs. Winstead was standing at the large center island, kneading a large lump of bread dough with intense concentration. She looked up when Jessie came in and gave her a smile.

  "The little one's napping?"

  Jessie nodded. "Eliya's with him."

  "She seems like a nice enough sort. And she has a way with the baby."

  "Yes."

  "She's been taking care of him since they got him?"

  "Yes," Jessie said again. "But she told me Lucas has been quite involved." Her mouth twisted up at one corner. "It was part of her campaign to convince me the Sebastianis are unique among royals, I think. They don't believe in handing their ch
ildren over to others to raise, as most royal families do. Queen Gwendolyn has strong feelings about that."

  Mrs. Winstead frowned. "But he's not all theirs."

  And there it was, Jessie thought. She sank down into her mother's old rocker. The thought of being separated from her child again was unimaginable, but....

  ... there is no other option.

  "They'll never give him up," she said, almost to herself.

  "But you're his mother. You have rights."

  Jessie laughed, and it was a melancholy, almost bitter sound. She'd been trying not to think about this, but now the words burst from her.

  "Do you have any idea what kind of custody battle it would be, me against the entire royal family of Montebello? With their resources? Not much of one, and I know who would lose."

  Mrs. Winstead paled, and Jessie knew the kindly woman was quite aware of what losing her baby all over again, even to the luxury of a royal life, would do to her.

  She might as well have died at Gerald's hands.

  He'd blown it.

  Lucas had never proposed to a woman before; that had been the problem, he decided. The arrangement for him to marry the daughter of a minor British royal had been made by his parents, and it hadn't survived the revelation of Luke's existence. Not surprisingly, the lady hadn't wanted this child to precede any she might have in the line of succession.

  At least he hadn't had to deal with that, he thought. He'd never proposed to anyone before, but therefore he'd never broken off an engagement, either. He imagined it wouldn't be pleasant, no matter what the circumstances. But his father had dealt with it, somehow managing to soothe ruffled feathers in the process. It was one of those times when he'd despaired of ever having his father's diplomatic talent.

  He could have used some of it when he'd presented the facts to Jessie, too. But now that he'd done it so badly, the problem was how to undo the damage.

  For one of the few times in his life—his life as Lucas, anyway—he wasn't sure what to do. His instinct said to give her time to calm down, but his heart wanted to rush all fences, for fear she would slip away. He'd tried so hard to be fair, tried to let her know what it would really be like. Hadn't he lived with the ups and downs all his life, minus those precious months when he'd been simply a man called Joe? Taking on the kind of life he lived was no simple proposition. He knew that.

  But now he wasn't sure if it was his presentation that had sent her running, or simply the fact that she truly hated the idea of his kind of life.

  "Problem, Your High—Mr. Sebastiani?"

  Only when Lloyd's quiet query stopped him did Lucas realize he'd been pacing the living room floor. He turned to look at the man who had been in his father's employ for years, just as Lloyd's own father had been. "Yes," he said bluntly. "Americans."

  He thought he saw the man's mouth quirk slightly. "They are a unique breed, sir."

  "Arrogant."

  "Sometimes," Lloyd agreed.

  "Stubborn."

  "Often."

  "Ethnocentric."

  "That, as well."

  This time Lucas's mouth quirked. "Independent," he said.

  "Incredibly."

  "Generous."

  "To a fault."

  "Able to laugh at themselves."

  "Delightfully so."

  "Admirable."

  "In countless ways."

  Lucas's tone softened as he said, "Brave."

  "Oh, yes." Lloyd smiled. "Most definitely brave."

  Lucas sighed. "So how can I change the mind of one particular brave, stubborn American?"

  Lloyd frowned. "Change her mind, sir?"

  Lucas noticed Lloyd had no doubt who he was speaking of, which didn't surprise him. He almost wished he hadn't started this, but he figured Lloyd had a better view of things, since he wasn't in the middle of the forest, as it were.

  "She doesn't like the idea of.. .a royal life," Lucas said. He wasn't about to admit to the man that in his effort to be fair he'd made a royal hash out of asking her to marry him.

  "Perhaps she simply does not wish to leave her country," Lloyd said. "Americans are notoriously loyal, after all."

  "She wouldn't have to leave, not really. She could return for extended visits anytime, and there's such a thing as dual citizenship."

  "Is it...." The man paused, coughed delicately, and didn't go on until Lucas made a prodding gesture with his hand. "Is it the idea of a monarchy, perhaps? Americans do tend to believe in the rule of the common man."

  " 'Of the people, by the people, for the people' and all that? I know. But she's never met my father, or she would know that's exactly how he rules."

  "Then does she have some objection to Montebello in particular?" Lloyd asked in a tone that made clear he didn't see how that was possible.

  "She's never been there, so how could she?"

  "Hmm. And you've discussed all this with her, and she still won't see reason?"

  Lucas felt himself flush slightly. "Well.. .No."

  "I see."

  And so, suddenly, did Lucas. He'd blundered this from the very beginning.

  "May I dare to suggest you do so, sir? And slowly, if I might add. Miss Chambers does not seem the type of woman to be rushed."

  "No, you're right. She'll just dig in her heels even more."

  "Precisely."

  Encouraged at last, Lucas started toward the door, eager now to go find Jessie. He had his hand on the knob, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

  "Thank you, Lloyd."

  "My pleasure, sir."

  Ironic, Lucas thought. After all his flings, all his casual affairs, the first time he seriously, genuinely cared about a woman, he couldn't do a thing right. Or perhaps because he seriously, genuinely cared.

  As he stepped outside, he wondered if his father had chosen the perceptive, wise Lloyd to accompany him for more than just security reasons. Perhaps, Lucas thought wryly, his equally wise father realized his idiot son was going to need other kinds of help to avoid making a botch of everything.

  She'd given up on sleep, and after checking to be sure Luke was sleeping peacefully and that Eliya was within earshot, Jessie went out to the barn. Brat seemed surprised, but more than willing to allow her to run the soft finish brush over her already gleaming hide. Jessie guessed if she dragged out the hoof pick or started thinning the mare's thick tail, her mood would change rapidly. So she settled for the rhythmic brushing that was a balm to both of them.

  When Lucas showed up after barely five minutes had passed, she knew he'd been watching her. She'd seen little of him since that horrible business proposition, and she would have preferred to keep it that way a bit longer. But now that he was here, she decided a quick departure would betray how frightened she was, which in turn would show him just how much power he had over her.

  As if he doesn't already know, she told herself sourly. As Lucas or Joe, he had never been stupid.

  "I've been thinking," she said quickly, before he could speak.

  "Oh?" He sounded wary, cautious, and somehow that pleased her.

  "Maybe we could work out some sort of joint custody. Luke could come to Montebello for summers. Of course, not until he's older, but eventually."

  Lucas looked at her steadily, and she knew before he answered what he would say. "I'm sorry, Jessie. That won't work. This is a process that takes a lifetime. Luke must be groomed for his future from the very beginning."

  "You mean, the indoctrination starts before he's even old enough to talk?"

  Her tone was acid, but she couldn't help it. That his was so gentle only made it worse.

  "I know this is very different to you, but—"

  "Different? No, we see it all the time here." She was intimidated by this Lucas, this man with a much-loved face but a very different soul. But this was her son she was fighting for, she had to be strong. "Parents who decide they want the next prodigy of tennis, or golf, or whatever, and force their child onto a path they never would have chose
n for themselves. Do you know how many lives, how many families have been ruined by that kind of thinking?"

  "This is different. This is what Luke was born for."

  "That," Jessie snapped, "is the biggest load of hooey I've ever heard."

  "What about Brat?" he asked, gesturing toward the horse made restless by the agitated voices. "I think you'd be the first to say she was born to be a cow horse."

  "Yes, she was," Jessie fired back. "But I never assumed she was. We let her grow up like all the horses do, and found out naturally that she had the talent. And if she hadn't, nobody would have forced her to do it!"

  He had the grace to at least look as if he'd lost that point, so she pressed on.

  "Besides, Luke is a child, not a quarter horse. What if he has a knack for numbers, or science, or even medicine? What if he could be the doctor or researcher who cures cancer, but he never gets the chance because he's locked away in some moldy palace somewhere?"

  "My parent's home is not moldy."

  That he seized on that idiocy to respond to only irritated her further. "Then it's their thinking that's moldy. Luke should be able to choose his own future. Every child should have that right."

  "I can't do that to my family. Not after what they've been through."

  Jessie's tenuous hold on her temper snapped. "What about what we've been through?"

  The look that came across Lucas's face then made her anger drain away as quickly as it had risen. For the first time she realized she wasn't the only one under pressure. Lucas was also under tremendous strain. And right now he looked incredibly, devastatingly weary, and when he spoke, his voice echoed the look. "Sometimes I think I'd be happier if I'd never gotten my memory back."

  Chapter 8

  It was a long, sleepless night for Jessie. Lucas had recovered quickly from that moment of what she was sure he would call weakness, and had gone on to give her yet another sales pitch on how life could be, the possibility of dual citizenship, how she would love Montebello, how she would see his father ruled wisely and well, and how she could also visit here anytime she wanted.

  As if that would be enough, occasional short visits to the place where her heart, where her very soul, lived, she thought wearily.