Romancing the Crown Series

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

  Jessie backed up and stared at him. He let her go. "Halfway around the world?" she asked.

  "We do it all the time, when someone buys one of our horses. One of the planes can be refitted for horse transport in a matter of hours."

  "You have a plane just for your horses?"

  "We're an island," he said with a shrug. "It's only practical."

  "Oh." She ran her hands up and down her arms as if chilled, although the barn wasn't cold.

  "I can call and have them send it for her, if you want to bring her."

  It was a long silent moment before Jessie slowly shook her head. "No. No, that won't be necessary."

  The formality of her words and tone bothered him, but he wasn't sure why.

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes." She turned and walked to the door of Brat's stall. When she got there, she looked back at him. "I won't be there long enough for it to be worth it."

  She left him there, deflated, wondering what he'd really gained by getting her to agree to come with him.

  Jessie clung to Luke as if the baby were her only link to reality. And that's how it felt to her—this entire morning seemed surreal.

  Leaving the ranch had been bad enough, but somehow the luxurious limousine had made it worse, as if she'd already crossed the line into a different world that wouldn't let go. This time Lloyd rode up front with the driver, and Eliya either dozed or pretended to. Jessie occupied herself with making Luke giggle, pretending she didn't notice Lucas watching them intently, a soft smile curving that luscious mouth of his.

  She had settled in for a long drive, so when they turned off at the small county airport she looked up in surprise. Then she realized she'd been foolish, thinking they would have to get to a commercial airport. Of course the Sebastianis flew whenever and wherever they pleased, and their personal planes waited at their beck and call.

  The limo came to a halt beside a sleek, twin engine jet parked near the edge of the small airport's single runway. Painted in a red and gray pattern she found nicely subtle, the plane looked bigger—and faster—than she would have imagined.

  The door was open, and a gangway was down. At the bottom of the stairs was a man in a uniform she didn't recognize, but judging from the black, white and gold color scheme, the same as the Montebellan flag, she guessed he was employed by Montebello or the Sebastianis.

  "If there's any difference," she muttered to herself.

  Lloyd exited the front seat, came back quickly and opened the limo door. Lucas stepped outside, then leaned back in and reached to take Luke from her. For an instant she hesitated, and she saw something pained flicker in Lucas's eyes, as if he thought she didn't trust him with the baby.

  "It's just hard to let go of him," she said softly.

  Lucas's face changed then. He reached out and touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. The gentle touch sent her mind rocketing back to that night at the lookout, the night that had brought her to this.

  She'd made her decision then, she thought. And she had promised him to give this a fair chance. It wasn't fair to hold back.

  She held Luke out to him. He took the baby gently, yet with assurance, with none of the fumbling of the brand-new parent. In fact, she thought wryly, he handled Luke more easily than she did, which reminded her painfully that Lucas had had him much longer than she had.

  She got out of the vehicle, and followed Lucas to the foot of the gangway. She stopped, doubt assailing her as she looked up the steep stairway.

  "It will be all right, Jessie."

  Lucas's voice from behind her was soft, coaxing. She'd heard that tone before, when Joe had been soothing a restless horse. She turned to look at him.

  "I'm not a horse and I'm not going to bolt," she told him. "I just need a moment to resign myself."

  Again pain flickered in his eyes. "I'm delighted to be going home, and you have to resign yourself."

  She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said that. I agreed to this, so I should at least not be sullen about it."

  "I suppose it's too much to ask you to look forward to it? People do, you know. They come from all over the world to vacation in Montebello. San Sebastian is one of the most visited capitals in the world."

  Perhaps she could do that, she thought. Consider it a vacation, of a kind thousands of people dreamed of all through long, cold winters. Besides, all vacations had an end, and when it came, you went home. If she hung on to that, maybe she could relax about this whole thing.

  "I'll try," she said.

  "That's all I ask, Jessie. That's all I ask."

  She walked up the steps with that determination firm in her mind.

  And almost lost it the moment she stepped into the plane.

  She had never seen anything like this. This wasn't a plane, she thought, it was a flying five-star hotel suite. The carpet was plush, in a deep, rich burgundy bordered in navy blue, as was the upholstery. The trim was some rich, dark wood that she had no doubt was exotic and expensive. To one side was a large table of the same wood, polished to a high gloss. Judging by the large leather chair behind it, it served as a desk.

  All of the seats had a view of small video screens placed throughout the main cabin. At the back of the cabin was a wet bar, and even from here she could see the warm, gold glow of the fixtures. Real gold? Probably, she thought.

  The only sign they were in a structure that moved were the discretely same-colored seat belts at every seat.

  "The Wright brothers never imagined," she said as she finally stepped into Wonderland.

  "It's a beauty, isn't it?" Lucas said. "Redstone makes great planes. We could almost make it without refueling, if we pushed our luck."

  "Let's not," she said dryly. "How far is it?"

  "About sixty-seven hundred miles. We've got a range of over six thousand, if we hold it down to Mach point eight."

  "Hold it down?" she nearly yelped.

  He nodded. "If we push it up to over Mach point eight-five, we drop about a thousand miles in range."

  "Mach point eight-five," she echoed faintly. Mach was a word she'd always associated with fighter jets and space vehicles. Not private planes, and certainly nothing she'd ever intended to be in herself.

  "All the necessities, too. Full head with a shower. A fully furnished stateroom, plus bunks for support personnel. Galley's fully equipped, too, and Mareta is an excellent cook if you want something."

  "No, thank you," Jessie said, reeling a little from all this. How on earth had Joe ever thought her ranch house warm and cozy, when it was nothing less than shabby next to this? Of course, Joe hadn't remembered this, but still, surely some part of him knew her scarred wood floors and slightly worn furniture weren't what he was used to?

  For that matter, she thought as she sank into a luxurious chair he directed her to, Lucas hadn't ever remarked on the condition of her home. He'd never said anything about the lack of amenities, even though he was obviously used to the absolute best. She should give him credit for that, she supposed. At least he'd been tactful enough not to mention whatever he thought about it.

  The amenities weren't the only difference, she soon realized. In addition to Eliya and Mr. Gallini, there was the man who'd been at the bottom of the steps, and a woman in a variation of the same uniform, who were clearly the private version of flight attendants. And they fluttered around Lucas as if he were.... As if he were royalty, she finished in silent chagrin.

  But what truly flustered her was the fact that they catered to her in the same way. It seemed every five minutes one or the other of them approached her offering food, drink, a blanket and pillow, or to put on a movie out of the amazingly huge collection on board, practically begging to be "of service" as they put it.

  But it wasn't until Lucas finally gave in to temptation and made his way forward to the cockpit that she discovered the full reason behind their actions.

  "Please," she said to the man when he approached her yet again, this time
with an offer of wine, "I don't need anything, I'm perfectly comfortable. Relax. You must need a break by now."

  "It is no hardship to serve our future queen," he said fervently.

  Jessie blinked. "What?"

  "It is an honor, truly," chimed the woman in uniform. "All Montebello awaits your arrival. And of course, your wedding. It will be ajoyous occasion."

  Jessie stared at them both. Did the entire world know about her? How? And did they all assume she was going to not only marry Lucas but be delighted to do so, no questions asked?

  She was tempted to clarify matters for them, to tell them in no uncertain terms she would not even be living in their precious Montebello, let alone be queen, but realized it would likely be a futile effort. They would never understand, even if they did believe her, which she doubted. Who wouldn't want to marry their precious prince? Didn't little girls all over the world dream of such a thing?

  Not this little girl, she thought. Her dream had always been of a man who wanted to live the life she loved, who would be content with its simplicity and stick with her through the frequent hard times, just for the love of it. A man like Joe. Not a prince used to living in the proverbial lap of luxury. Like this plane.

  She did eventually get up and make her way to the bathroom. It was as ridiculously luxurious as the rest of the craft, and so far from the standard airplane lavatory that she could barely stop herself from laughing out loud.

  When she returned, Lucas was back from the cockpit, which surprised her—she'd figured he would be there for hours. Instead, after he took a peek at Luke in the specially designed crib that was bolted to the aircraft floor—a modification, she was sure, to the plane's design, and one she couldn't deny made her more comfortable flying with the baby—Lucas took the seat next to hers and strapped himself in.

  She sensed a tension in him she hadn't noticed before, and unease filled her. They were on a very small plane, after all, in a very big sky.

  "Is there a problem?"

  He gave her a sideways look, and her heart jolted into her throat, because the answer was obviously yes. Instinctively she looked out the window, wondering if they had an engine on fire or something.

  "No, no, it's nothing like that," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

  Jessie let out a sigh of relief. "What, then?"

  "They got a news report up front."

  Her mouth tightened. Was this the answer to what she'd been wondering, how everyone from Montebello apparently knew about her? Had he said something to reporters? Had he arrogantly assumed she couldn't possibly say no and announced it as a done deal?

  "And?" she said, not trusting herself to say anything more. If he had—

  "Gerald was committed to a state hospital. No jail time."

  It took her a moment to make the switch to the unexpected subject. "What?"

  "I had them call my friend in the FBI for details. He was deemed criminally insane and committed."

  "Oh."

  He looked at her for a long moment. "You don't seem upset that he got off so easily."

  "I'm not. Not really. I can't quite hate him."

  "After what he put you through?"

  She shrugged. "It was horrible, but.. .he didn't kill me, even when he was ordered to. I sort of owe him for that, even if his reasons were crazy."

  Lucas looked thoughtful for a moment. "I guess I was so angry at him I never thought of it that way." He hesitated, then said, "There's word on...Ursula and Gretchen, too."

  She supposed he'd hesitated about calling Ursula her sister. As if she no longer deserved the title. Jessie smothered the pang that always arose when she thought of the girl she'd once adored and looked up to, who had turned into a bitter, vicious woman she didn't even know anymore. She wondered if she would ever reach any equanimity about it, if she would ever resolve her horribly confused feelings about Ursula.

  "What?" she finally asked, when she was sure her voice would be steady.

  "They were denied bail. Apparently the judge thought anybody who would try to murder her own sister in order to steal her baby, on top of murdering a former lover, or anyone who'd help her with full knowledge, like Gretchen, is a flight risk. They'll be awaiting trial in jail."

  She waited to feel something, a pang, a qualm, anything, at the thought of her sister in jail. But nothing came. And somehow that made her feel worse.

  "Do you want to see her? Speak to her?" Lucas asked.

  "I.. .feel like I should want to. But I don't." She stared at her hands. "I think I'm afraid I'm hoping there was some other reason besides pure greed, bitterness and viciousness for what she did."

  "There isn't."

  "I think I know that, deep down. But having to face it..." She shook her head. "Maybe someday. But not now."

  "She's not worth your worry or your concern, Jessie," Lucas said quietly. "I know it must be hard, she is your sister, but after what she did, she doesn't deserve even a passing thought."

  "I just feel badly for what was," she said. "We were close, once."

  "Which makes what she did even more reprehensible."

  "I know. But it's still hard."

  He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "It's hard because you're a good, decent person, and you don't easily write anyone off."

  She wondered if there was a message for her from him in those words, but when she looked up at him, she saw only genuine concern. That warmed her, and the knot inside her loosened a little.

  She didn't pull her hand from his, and eventually, lulled by the distant hum of the engines and the comfort of the luxurious seat, she dozed. And dreamed. Dreamed of purple robes and a glittering crown, lifted from a velvet pillow and placed on her head.

  It didn't fit.

  And after a while, it slid down and ended up a heavy, choking weight around her neck.

  Chapter 10

  Lucas watched her, glad of the chance to simply look. When she murmured in her sleep, an undertone of distress noticeable even though the words were unintelligible, he wondered if he should wake her. But then it subsided, so he let her sleep.

  She would need even this restless sleep—flying this far into tomorrow, jet lag was practically unavoidable. And he was under no illusions about the strain she would be under once they arrived and the inevitable chaos surrounded her. He would try to protect her as much as he could, but he could only do so much. Too many people had learned their story, too many people already knew her face, and knew their prince had gone to America to find the woman who had borne him—and them—a royal heir in line to the Montebellan throne.

  He was used to his goldfish-bowl life—not that he liked it—but Jessie was not. And in her way, she was a very private person. Many Americans, especially those from the West, were, when compared to the open gregariousness that was typical of Montebellans.

  Perhaps it was the more tropical climate there than, say, Colorado. Montebellans never had to hole up alone while a blizzard blew through. The weather was always good for socializing, for being outside, soaking up the sun and balmy breezes.

  He sat musing for a while, his gaze occasionally shifting from Jessie to the video screen to his left, which he'd keyed in to show the cockpit instruments, a special feature that he'd requested and Redstone Aviation had had designed just for him. The head of the company, Josh Red-stone, being a pilot himself, had understood perfectly what he'd wanted. And why. In fact, the man had wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself, for his own plane.

  And periodically Lucas rose and walked over to look down at his baby son. He couldn't describe the emotions that filled him, he only knew he'd never felt anything like them before. He'd known love at first sight existed, his parents proved that, but he'd never expected it to happen to him. Yet the moment he'd looked into Luke's wide, innocent eyes, he'd fallen and fallen hard. That at the time he'd thought Jessie dead, and baby Luke the last precious bit of her on this earth, had only made the feeling more powerful.

/>   Looking at that child was like staring into the future, and he felt the weight of it as never before. Not even standing in the palace picture gallery that housed paintings of every ancestor of his for generations could inspire this kind of feeling in him.

  Jessie's words echoed in his mind. Luke should be able to choose his own future. Every child should have that right.

  He knew he was right, knew that Luke had to be raised as he had been, knowing his future was set, that the throne of Montebello was his destiny. It would take that long, a lifetime, to train him properly for the job. It wasn't something you could learn in a short time, it had to be ingrained, until it was instinctive, until you reacted without thinking in the way that was best for your position and your country.

  Her impassioned plea hadn't fallen on deaf ears. He understood her feelings, completely. But she didn't realize that when you were raised with the knowledge of what you would become, when you learned at an early age that it was unchangeable, you adjusted. He had. Not that he'd ever had a burning desire to do otherwise. His parents had indulged his need to experiment with any field he found of interest, but at the core he'd always known it was just that, experimentation, because his course lay elsewhere.

  He wondered, had he not grown up with his father's sterling example, if he might have been more restless, felt more constrained by his lack of choices about his future. But King Marcus had always found such joy in leading his people wisely that Lucas had grown up assuming he would find the same fulfillment when it was his turn to rule. And he had, in the duties he'd already assumed as the invested crown prince. So surely Luke would, too, as long as he was brought up in the same tradition.

  But Jessie's words lingered in his mind, provoking the tiniest of doubts. And when Luke opened his eyes, so much like his own, looked up at him and smiled Jessie's smile, he suddenly understood her need to make sure the boy had everything his way in life. He didn't ever want to look in that little face and see pain or disappointment.

  He touched the baby's soft, silken cheek, which reminded him of Jessie's soft, silken skin. He quashed his reaction once more, as he'd been doing frequently of late, knowing he didn't dare push her, despite that incredible night at her lookout.