by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
After a few minutes Luke went back to sleep, and Lucas began to pace the length of the main cabin, trying to walk off his restlessness. Finally he sensed the plane beginning to descend in the moment before the pilot announced it to him over the intercom. They would be on the ground only for refueling, not long enough to deplane. Someday, he thought, he was going to test the promised range of this beauty and try that flight without refueling.
Then Luke made a tiny, cooing sound, drawing his father's gaze.
On second thought, Lucas amended silently, maybe I won 'tpush that envelope.
The old Lucas would have done it. The reckless, sometimes feckless Lucas. The Playboy Prince, he thought ruefully. Now that would be a great way to convince Jessie you're not that man anymore—pull a fool stunt like that. You walked away from one plane crash, just how golden do you think you are?
His ears popped in adjustment to the loss of altitude. In that moment Jessie stirred, then opened her eyes. For an instant she just looked at him, then a soft, sleepy smile curved her mouth and his heart seemed to skip a beat and then rush to catch up.
Then she seemed to realize what had awakened her. She sat up straight and looked toward the window. Then she glanced at her watch. He winced inwardly at the troubled expression that changed her face.
"We're not there yet," he told her. "We're just stopping for refueling."
"Oh."
The troubled expression eased, and he felt that pang again, that she would be dreading so much what he was so anxious for. He told himself that it was only because she hadn't seen his home yet, but deep down he wondered if he had lost this battle before it had really begun.
* * *
The first thing that struck Jessie as she steeled herself and stepped out onto the gangway was the brilliance of the sun. The next was the warmth. Heat, she mentally corrected. For a body used to and already preparing for a Colorado winter, this wasn't just balmy, it was downright hot. If she had to guess, it was at least seventy degrees out, although she admitted she might not be the best judge, having just come from fifty-eight-degree Colorado.
Lucas had told her Montebello was ten hours ahead of Colorado time, so she guessed that coupled with the long flying time, it was the next day here. It felt odd to have missed an entire day, but she didn't have long to dwell on it. Not when she saw the crowd of people standing near the bottom of the gangway, next to a limousine even longer than the one Lucas had hired in Colorado, this one with darkly tinted windows and two small black, white and gold flags on the front fenders.
There was a much larger crowd on the other side of a chain-link fence several yards away. In that group larger Montebellan flags were prominent, waving in the sun-warmed air. She heard calls and shouts, but couldn't tell what was being said. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but they sounded friendly, even warm, which was reassuring.
At the foot of the gangway was, she saw with rueful surprise, a red carpet. An honest-to-god red carpet. And she had a feeling this was going to be just the first of many such moments, when her American sensibilities collided with royal ceremony. And the first of many incidents that would pound home to her just how impossible this all was.
After that moment everything seemed to blur. Her nap on the plane hadn't made up for the sleepless night before, and she felt suddenly exhausted. And buffeted by the barrage of greetings that began the moment Lucas, carrying the baby, urged her to start down the gangway steps.
She concentrated on every step as if she expected it to slide out from under her feet. The calls from the crowd were clearer now, and she realized they were calling Lucas's name. And Luke's. She even thought she heard her own name once or twice, and she was positive she heard one woman call out "Marry me, instead!"
Now there's a plan, she thought wearily. And then quickly took it back when the thought of him doing just that, marrying some other woman, stabbed her more deeply than she ever would have expected.
When they got to the bottom, she realized the rear door of the limo had been opened by a man in the same uniform as the flight attendants on Lucas's jet. An imposing man with a mane of white hair and a neatly trimmed beard got out, turned, bent, and held out an arm. A lovely woman with golden hair, barely touched with silver, and clear blue eyes took the proffered arm and stepped out of the long, low car with exquisite grace. And finally Jessie realized who they must be. Lucas's parents. They were, she thought, regal. It was ironic, but it was the only word that truly fit.
And belatedly she realized she was in the presence of a real, genuine king and queen. And she didn't have the slightest idea what to do. Why hadn't Lucas told her? Was she supposed to bow, or curtsy or something? Or as an American, was that somehow wrong?
As it worked out, she had to do neither. King Marcus took her hand, smiled in a way that put Jessie in mind of his son, and said quietly, "My son understated your beauty."
Jessie blushed, but before she could say a word the queen murmured a soft, "Welcome to Montebello, dear," and gestured her into the limo.
"We should go," Lucas said when she hesitated. "So the airport can clear the crowd."
She acceded to his request. Once they were inside the thankfully cooler vehicle, he handed her Luke and took up a seat beside her. He'd indicated what seat she should take, which meant they were facing forward, leaving the back-facing seat for his parents. She wondered about that, since they'd gotten out of the seat she was now in, but guessed they wanted her to have the best view of their precious Montebello.
She supposed she should be flattered, but she was too nervous to feel anything positive just now.
She watched the crowd as the older couple were getting in, then leaned over and asked Lucas quietly, "Is it like this whenever you go somewhere?"
"Like what? Oh, you mean the crowd. No. I mean, only lately. Since I got back. Before, the only people I had to dodge were the media. Looking for a photo of my latest escapade," he finished in such a wry tone she couldn't help but smile.
The moment the king and queen were seated, the man holding the limo door closed it and quickly walked around to get in the passenger-side front seat. Almost immediately the vehicle began to roll.
Jessie found herself staring down at the baby, this time not only because she loved to look at him, but because she was too nervous to look at anyone else. But with her peripheral vision she saw the king grasp his son's hand in a firm handshake in the same instant the queen reached out and laid a hand on Lucas's knee.
"I'm fine," Lucas said softly, his tone gently reassuring. "It's all right."
She stole a peek then at the stately couple opposite her. What she saw in their faces registered sharply—they adored their son. She could see echoes of the grief they must have felt when they had thought him dead etched into their faces, and in the way they clung to him now, as if they had feared he would once more not return to them after a flight.
She was surprised by the obvious genuineness of their emotions. Then she chided herself. They were human, after all, and there was no reason that being royalty precluded loving your children. At least they weren't afraid to show it, as she guessed other monarchs might be.
The limo had reached the fence, and while the airport personnel, with the help of a couple of people in that same white uniform with the gold and black trim that she now supposed was for the royal staff or whatever they were called, did their best to control the group, it still surged forward. For a moment Jessie felt a jolt of fear, but the next thing she knew Lucas had rolled down the window beside him and waved to the crowd, who responded with ajoyous cheer.
Once they were clear, Lucas powered the window back up and sat back in his seat. Jessie didn't look at him or speak. She was feeling a bit overwhelmed, and couldn't think of a thing to say anyway. Luxurious private jets, uniformed attendants, red carpets, mile-long limousines and throngs of cheering admirers....
She smothered a sigh. Despite the obviously real feelings she'd seen between parents and son, Jessie knew that if sh
e had to decide this instant, she would get right back on that plane and go home. She could never be part of this spectacle, this kind of glitter and pomp. It just wasn't in her.
The size of the airport surprised her, as did the sleek, gleaming, and clearly state-of-the-art terminal. She'd known Montebello was wealthy, but somehow it was different seeing it in person. She would even admit it was beautiful, at least what she'd seen from the air of the island surrounded by Mediterranean waters glistening with more colors of blue and green than she'd ever realized existed in nature.
She didn't really know how long the drive took. Lucas's parents—she found she was less nervous if she thought of them that way—tactfully chatted, putting no pressure on her to join in. At least, she assumed that's what their intent was, rather than an attempt to exclude her. She wasn't that paranoid. Not yet, anyway.
This gave her a chance to look out the window at the passing landscape. Which, she admitted, was as beautiful as it looked from the air. And as varied as Lucas had promised her.
The airport appeared to be on a large plain, but she could see mountains rising in the distance. Off to one side on a separate airfield adjacent to the airport, she saw what appeared to be military airplanes. She was startled for a moment when she saw the insignia they bore and realized they were American planes. Then she recalled the emphasis in the articles about Montebello on its strategic importance to the U.S., and the frequent mention of the military base that had been there for years. The sight of this little piece of home caused both a pang and a smile.
From the airport they followed the coastline, and Jessie stared out the window, rapt. She'd thought Lucas had been exaggerating when he'd talked of "orchids and lilies of the field growing wild," but it was clear he hadn't been—that exotic-looking flower over there, just growing along the side of the road, had to be an orchid.
As the coastline curved into a lovely, large, sweeping cove, she saw on the far shore the first buildings of what appeared to be a sizeable city. San Sebastian, the capital, she thought, remembering the maps she'd looked at when she'd first discovered who Lucas really was.
She barely had time to soak in the natural beauty before they were in the midst of a place that could have been any cosmopolitan city on the globe. The buildings soared, glass and concrete and steel, the outward manifestation of the wealth of this small nation. Only the occasional touch of distinctive architecture betrayed they were in the Mediterranean, on the doorstep of the Middle East rather than any other similar-sized city.
As they reached the other side of the cove, the road began to climb as the land changed from rolling hills to steeper terrain. The buildings they passed became older, more classical in style, and if she'd been told she was in an old Italian village, Jessie wouldn't have argued.
They reached an open area amid the buildings that made her think even more of photographs she'd seen of Italy. A piazza, she thought, complete with tourists, cobblestones and pigeons, or whatever the local version of the ubiquitous bird was. And the requisite romantic horse and carriage or two to convey tourists to the local attractions.
Of which they seemed to be one, she noted with some amusement as people turned to stare as they passed slowly through the crowded piazza. Some of them waved, some nodded, some even saluted in one way or another. She supposed those last were locals who knew who the big limousine belonged to. And again she thought what a strange way this was to live.
Around the edge of the expanse were several shops and restaurants that fairly reeked atmosphere. And high prices, Jessie thought. There were even a couple with no visible signs to show what business they were in, which to Jessie had always meant if you didn't already know, you couldn't afford to shop there.
She supposed Lucas knew them all, and patronized them. She had the feeling she had only seen the tip of the iceberg when it came to his wealth.
"—Jessica?"
It took her a moment to tune in to the quiet female voice and realize she was being spoken to directly for the first time on this strange journey.
"Jessie, please. Or Jess," she said automatically, as she always did whenever anyone used her detested proper name. Then she caught herself, blushing, as she realized she had just corrected a queen.
But Queen Gwendolyn responded with pure grace. "Thank you, dear. I'm honored. I was just saying that we were going to have a welcome dinner for you at the Glass Swan—" she gestured toward an elegant-looking restaurant overlooking the harbor "—but we were afraid it would be too much too soon. So we'll do it another day."
"I.. .thank you. Yes, it would have been too much. It's been a very long day."
"I'm sure it has," she said kindly. "So we'll just get you home where you can rest until tomorrow."
"Thank you," Jessie repeated, this time with heartfelt gratitude, and the queen smiled.
The car began to slow, and Jessie looked out. There was a gap in the buildings around the piazza where there stood only a tall, wrought-iron fence. In the center of the fence was a pair of even taller, ornate iron gates. There was an elaborate pattern in the center, and it took her a moment to realize that it was a crest of sorts, with a stylized "S" at the center.
In the instant she realized the letter probably stood for Sebastiani, the gates began to open, confirming her guess. Yet no one seemed inclined to bother them—apart from a family of obvious tourists, clad in loud clothing and with cameras in hand, trying to peek into the tinted windows as they slowed to go through the heavy gates. They passed a guardhouse where a man in uniform bowed, then waved.
"No crowds?" she asked, wondering if that was due to fear, or respect.
"Not usually," Lucas said. "Most people know they're allowed in to tour the house on specific days, with few questions asked." He smiled. "A tradition we borrowed from your White House."
Respect then, she decided.
She turned to watch the huge gates swing closed behind them. Then she returned to facing front.
And realized they'd entered Oz.
Chapter 11
She truly did feel like they'd entered another world once they'd passed through those gates. They'd gone from the quaint, bustling piazza that could have been in any crowded city, to expansive grounds that were like a huge park, with great swaths of green lawn, patches of profuse, exotic—to Jessie at least—flowers, which she guessed weren't nearly as casual in planting or maintenance as they were in appearance.
Once they were out of sight of the gates, she never would have guessed that the city they'd just passed through even existed, let alone that it was so close. She remembered from the map she'd seen that the royal palace was on one tip of the island of Montebello, and she guessed that had to be where they were headed now. She'd just had no idea the grounds surrounding the palace would be so expansive. It wasn't home, but she didn't feel cramped or hemmed in, either.
The drive rounded a small hill, and she could see the sparkle of the Mediterranean at the bottom of the cliff. Each turn revealed another spectacular vista. It put her in mind of some of the high mountain roads back home, where every curve in the road brought you a different view.
At last they turned slightly away from the sea, and the road rose as they headed up a slight grade. And then nothing could draw her attention from the amazing building that came into view.
Here was the pure Mediterranean feel, two stories of sunwashed marble gleaming in the midst of all the greenery. A long, wide circular cobblestone drive wrapped around a large fountain, beautifully landscaped with flowerbeds and inviting benches. Across from the fountain was what appeared to be the main entrance to the large building.
Palace.
It suddenly struck her that this was the right word. She was about to enter a palace. Smaller than, say, Buckingham, but then, Buckingham didn't have this kind of view. Few places on earth had this kind of view.
But she didn't get much chance to take it in. The limo pulled to a halt in front of that main entrance, and within seconds the man from the front seat had
the back door open. The next thing she knew she was being guided up the massive front steps and into a marble-floored foyer with an exquisitely painted ceiling that soared so high it nearly made her dizzy to look up at it.
Directly ahead was a wide, grand staircase that led to the second floor. Off to the left was a balcony that looked down on the foyer where they stood. She glanced around, but it seemed impossible to take it all in, all the marble, gilt details, and paintings. She would have thought the place would feel dark, heavy, but it was instead amazingly light.
"You'll get the big tour tomorrow, if you want," Lucas said to her. "But now, I think you need to rest."
"Rest sounds wonderful," she said gratefully.
Sleeping for about a week sounded wonderful. She shouldn't be so exhausted, Jessie thought. All she'd done was fly on a plane. For many hours, of course, but she'd slept a bit during the flight. It didn't seem to make any difference, though; she felt as if she were about to drop. Stress, she supposed. Unfortunately, even if she slept for that entire week, when she woke up she would still be here in Montebello, and thus still under stress.
But she couldn't even begin to articulate her feelings, and Lucas wouldn't understand even if she could. He was home, and happy to be here, she could see it in his face. She, on the other hand, was wishing she'd never decided to do this. Still she told herself she was just tired, that she'd agreed to this and it was time to stop whining about it.
She hesitated when Eliya came to take the baby, but rationalized that the woman had taken care of him before and he'd come to no harm. Her exhausted brain tried to make up some nightmare scenario where she never saw Luke again, and this was all a plot engineered by the imperious Sebastianis to get rid of her, so there would be no dispute over who would raise Luke. After all, if her own sister could do what she'd done, what was to stop these total strangers, with all their wealth and position, from securing their royal heir however they had to? Who would question them if she disappeared, never to be seen again? She had no one left, no one who would care.
