She must have been more tired and overwrought than she realized, because she clearly wasn’t thinking straight.
Marcus returned his attention to her and the smile disappeared. He gestured to the limo, where the driver was securing Mia’s car seat in the back. “Shall we go?”
She nodded, telling herself that everything would be okay. But as she slid into the cool interior of the car, she couldn’t help wondering if this time she was in way over her head.
* * *
She was even worse than Marcus had imagined.
Sitting across from her in the limo, he watched his new rival, the woman who, in a few short weeks, had managed to bewitch his grieving father barely eight months after the queen’s death.
At first, when his father gave him the news, Gabriel thought he had lost his mind. Not only because he had fallen for an American, but one so young, that he barely knew. But now, seeing her face-to-face, there was little question as to why the king was so taken with her. Her silky, honey-blond hair was a natural shade no stylist, no matter how skilled, could ever reproduce. She had the figure of a gentlemen’s magazine pinup model and a face that would inspire the likes of da Vinci or Titian.
When she first stepped off the plane, doe-eyed and dazed, with a screaming infant clutched to her chest, his hope was that she was as empty-headed as the blonde beauties on some of those American reality shows, but then their eyes met, and he saw intelligence in their smoky gray depths. And a bit of desperation.
Though he hated himself for it, she looked so disheveled and exhausted, he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her. But that didn’t change the fact that she was the enemy.
The child whimpered in her car seat, then let out a wail so high-pitched his ears rang.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Miss Reynolds cooed, holding her baby’s tiny clenched fist. Then she looked across the car to Marcus. “I’m so sorry. She’s usually very sweet natured.”
He had always been fond of children, though he much preferred them when they smiled. He would have children one day. As sole heir, it was his responsibility to carry on the Salvatora legacy.
But that could change, he reminded himself. With a pretty young wife his father could have more sons.
The idea of his father having children with a woman like her sat like a stone in his belly.
Miss Reynolds reached into one of the bags at her feet, pulled out a bottle with what looked to be juice in it and handed it to her daughter. The child popped it into her mouth and suckled for several seconds, then made a face and lobbed the bottle at the floor, where it hit Marcus’s shoe.
“I’m so sorry,” Miss Reynolds said again, as her daughter began to wail. The woman looked as if she wanted to cry, too.
He picked the bottle up and handed it to her.
She reached into the bag for a toy and tried distracting the baby with that, but after several seconds it too went airborne, this time hitting his leg. She tried a different toy with the same result.
“Sorry,” she said.
He retrieved both toys and handed them back to her.
They sat for several minutes in awkward silence, then she said, “So, are you always this talkative?”
He had nothing to say to her, and besides, he would have to shout to be heard over the infant’s screaming.
When he didn’t reply, she went on nervously, “I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to coming here. And meeting you. Gabriel has told me so much about you. And so much about Varieo.”
He did not share her enthusiasm, and he wouldn’t pretend to be happy about this. Nor did he believe even for a second that she meant a word of what she said. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why she was here, that she was after his father’s vast wealth and social standing.
She tried the bottle again, and this time the baby took it. She suckled for a minute or two then her eyelids began to droop.
“She didn’t sleep well on the flight,” Miss Reynolds said, as though it mattered one way or another to him. “Plus, everything is unfamiliar. I imagine it will take some time for her to adjust to living in a new place.”
“Her father had no objection to you moving his child to a different country?” he couldn’t help asking.
“Her father left us when he found out I was pregnant. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”
“You’re divorced?”
She shook her head. “We were never married.”
Marvelous. And just one more strike against her. Divorce was bad enough, but a child out of wedlock? What in heaven’s name had his father been thinking? And did he honestly believe that Marcus would ever approve of someone like that, or welcome her into the family?
His distaste must have shown in his face, because Miss Reynolds looked him square in the eyes and said, “I’m not ashamed of my past, your highness. Though the circumstances may not have been ideal, Mia is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I have no regrets.”
Not afraid to speak her mind, was she? Not necessarily an appropriate attribute for a future queen. Though he couldn’t deny that his mother had been known to voice her own very potent opinions, and in doing so had been a role model for young women. But there was a fine line between being principled and being irresponsible. And the idea that this woman would even think that she could hold herself to the standards the queen had set, that she could replace her, made him sick to his stomach.
Marcus could only hope that his father would come to his senses before it was too late, before he did something ridiculous, like marry her. And as much as he would like to wash his hands of the situation that very instant, he had promised his father that he would see that she was settled in, and he was a man of his word. To Marcus, honor was not only a virtue, but an obligation. His mother had taught him that. Although even he had limits.
“Your past,” he told Miss Reynolds, “is between you and my father.”
“But you obviously have some strong opinions about it. Maybe you should try getting to know me before you pass judgment.”
He leaned forward and locked eyes with her, so there was no question as to his sincerity. “I wouldn’t waste my time.”
She didn’t even flinch. She held his gaze steadily, her smoky eyes filled with a fire that said she would not be intimidated, and he felt a twinge of…something. An emotion that seemed to settle somewhere between hatred and lust.
It was the lust part that drew him back, hit him like a humiliating slap in the face.
And Miss Reynolds had the audacity to smile. Which both infuriated and fascinated him.
“Okay,” she said with a shrug of her slim shoulders. Did she not believe him, or was it that she just didn’t care?
Either way, it didn’t make a difference to him. He would tolerate her presence for his father’s sake, but he would never accept her.
Feeling an unease to which he was not accustomed, he pulled out his cell phone, dismissing her. For the first time since losing the queen to cancer, his father seemed truly happy, and Marcus would never deny him that. And only because he believed it would never last.
With any luck his father would come to his senses and send her back from where she came before it was too late.
Two
This visit was going from bad to worse.
Vanessa sat beside her sleeping daughter, dread twisting her stomach into knots. Marcus, it would seem, had already made up his mind about her. He wasn’t even going to give her a chance, and the idea of being alone with him until Gabriel returned made the knots tighten.
In hindsight, confronting him so directly probably hadn’t been her best idea ever. She’d always had strong convictions, but she’d managed, for the most part, to keep them in check. But that smug look he’d flashed her, the arrogance that seemed to ooze from every pore, had raked across her frayed nerves like barbed wire. Before she could think better of it, her mouth was moving and words were spilling out.
She stole a glance at him, but he was
still focused on his phone. On a scale of one to ten he was a solid fifteen in the looks department. Too bad he didn’t have the personality to match.
Listen to yourself.
She gave her head a mental shake. She had known the man a total of ten minutes. Was she unfairly jumping to conclusions, judging him without all the facts? And in doing so, was she no better than him?
Yes, he was acting like a jerk, but maybe he had a good reason. If her own father announced his intention to marry a much younger woman whom Vanessa had never even met, she would be wary too. But if he were a filthy rich king to boot, she would definitely question the woman’s motives. Marcus was probably just concerned for his father, as any responsible son should be. And she couldn’t let herself forget that he’d lost his mother less than a year ago. Gabriel had intimated that Marcus had taken her death very hard. He was probably still hurting, and maybe thought she was trying to replace the queen, which could not be further from the truth.
Looking at it that way made her feel a little better.
But what if he disliked her so much that he tried to come between her and Gabriel? Did she want to go through life feeling like an intruder in her own home? Or would it never feel like home to her?
Was this just another huge mistake?
Her heart began to pound and she forced herself to take a deep breath and relax. She was getting way ahead of herself. She didn’t even know for certain that she wanted to marry Gabriel. Wasn’t that the whole point of this trip? She could still go home if things didn’t work out. Six weeks was a long time, and a lot could happen between now and then. For now she wouldn’t let herself worry about it, or let it dash her excitement. She was determined to make the best of this, and if it didn’t work out, she could chalk it up to another interesting experience and valuable life lesson.
She smiled to herself, a feeling of peace settling over her, and gazed out the window as the limo wound its way through the charming coastal village of Bocas, where shops, boutiques and restaurants lined cobblestone streets crowded with tourists. As they pulled up the deep slope to the front gates of the palace, in the distance she could see the packed public beach and harbor where everything from sailboats and yachts to a full-size cruise ship were docked.
She’d read that the coastal tourist season stretched from April through November, and in the colder months the tourist trade moved inland, into the mountains, where snowboarding and skiing were the popular activities. According to Gabriel, much of the nation’s economy relied on tourism, which had taken a financial hit the last couple of years.
The gates swung open as they approached and when the palace came into view, Vanessa’s breath caught. It looked like an oasis with its Roman architecture, sprawling fountains, green rolling lawns and lush gardens.
Things were definitely starting to look up.
She turned to Marcus, who sat across from her looking impatient, as though he couldn’t wait to be out of the car and rid of her.
“Your home is beautiful,” she told him.
He glanced over at her. “Had you expected otherwise?”
Way to be on the defensive, dude. “What I meant was, the photos I’ve seen don’t do it justice. Being here in person is really a thrill.”
“I can only imagine,” he said, with barely masked sarcasm.
Hell, who was she kidding, he didn’t even try to mask it. He really wasn’t going to cut her a break, was he?
She sighed inwardly as they pulled up to the expansive marble front steps bracketed by towering white columns. At eighty thousand square feet the palace was larger than the White House, yet only a fraction of the size of Buckingham Palace.
The instant the door opened, Marcus was out of the car, leaving it to the driver to help Vanessa with her things. She gathered Mia, who was still out cold, into her arms and followed after Marcus, who stood waiting for her just inside the massive, two-story high double doors.
The interior was just as magnificent as the exterior, with a massive, circular foyer decorated in creamy beiges with marble floors polished to a gleaming shine. A ginormous crystal chandelier hung in the center, sparkling like diamonds in the sunshine streaming through windows so tall they met the domed ceiling. Hugging both sides of the curved walls, grand staircases with wrought iron railings branched off to the right and the left and wound up to the second floor. In the center of it all sat a large, intricately carved marble table with an enormous arrangement of fresh cut exotic flowers, whose sweet fragrance scented the air. The impression was a mix of tradition and modern sophistication. Class and a bit of excess.
Only then, as Vanessa gazed around in wonder, did the reality of her situation truly sink in. Her head spun and her heart pounded. This amazing place could be her home. Mia could grow up here, have the best of everything, and even more important than that, a man who would accept her as his own daughter. That alone was like a dream come true.
She wanted to tell Marcus how beautiful his home was, and how honored she felt to be there, but knew it would probably earn her another snotty response, so she kept her mouth shut.
From the hallway that extended past the stairs, a line of nearly a dozen palace employees filed into the foyer and Marcus introduced her. Celia, the head housekeeper, was a tall, stern-looking woman dressed in a starched gray uniform, her silver hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her three charges were similarly dressed, but younger and very plain looking. No makeup, no jewelry, identical bland expressions.
Vanessa smiled and nodded to each one in turn.
“This is Camille,” Celia told her in English, in a flat tone that perfectly matched her dour expression, signaling for the youngest of the three to step forward. “She will be your personal maid for the duration of your stay.”
Duration of her stay? Were they anticipating that she wouldn’t be sticking around? Or more to the point, hoping she wouldn’t?
“It’s nice to meet you, Camille,” she said with a smile, offering her hand.
Looking a little nervous, the young woman took it, her eyes turned downward, and with a thick accent said, “Ma’am.”
The butler, George, wore tails and a starched, high collar. He was skin and bones with a slight slouch, and looked as though he was fast approaching the century mark…if he hadn’t hit it already. His staff consisted of two similarly dressed assistants, both young and capable looking, plus a chef and baker, a man and a woman, dressed in white, and each looking as though they frequently tested the cuisine.
Marcus turned to George and gestured to the luggage the driver had set inside the door. Without a word the two younger men jumped into action.
A smartly dressed middle-aged woman stepped forward and introduced herself as Tabitha, the king’s personal secretary.
“If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask,” she said in perfect English, her expression blank. Then she gestured to the young woman standing beside her, who wore a uniform similar to those of the maids. “This is Karin, the nanny. She will take care of your daughter.”
Vanessa was a little uncomfortable with the idea of a total stranger watching her baby, but she knew Gabriel would never expose Mia to someone he didn’t trust implicitly.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Vanessa said, resisting the urge to ask the young woman to list her credentials.
“Ma’am,” she said, nodding politely.
“Please, call me Vanessa. In fact, I’ve never been one to stand on formality. Everyone should feel free to use my first name.”
The request received no reaction whatsoever from the staff. No one even cracked a smile. Were they always so deadpan, or did they simply not like her? Had they decided, as Marcus had, that she wasn’t to be trusted?
That would truly suck. And she would have to work extra hard to prove them wrong.
Marcus turned to her. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”
Without waiting for a reply, he swiveled and headed up the stairs to the left, at a pace so brisk she nearly had to
jog to keep up with him.
Unlike the beige theme of the foyer, the second floor incorporated rich hues of red, orange and purple, which personally she never would have chosen, but it managed to look elegant without being too gaudy.
Marcus led her down a long, carpeted hall.
“So, is the staff always so cheerful?” she asked him.
“It’s not enough that they’ll cater to your every whim,” Marcus said over his shoulder. “They have to be happy about it?”
With a boss who clearly didn’t like her, why would they?
At the end of the hallway they turned right and he opened the first door on his left. Gabriel told her that she would be staying in the largest of the guest suites, but she hadn’t anticipated just how large it would be. The presidential suite at the hotel where she worked paled in comparison. The main room was big and spacious with high ceilings and tall windows that bracketed a pair of paned French doors. The color scheme ran to muted shades of green and yellow.
There was a cozy sitting area with overstuffed, comfortable-looking furniture situated around a massive fireplace. There was also a dining alcove, and a functional desk flanked by built-in bookcases whose shelves were packed with hardback books and knickknacks.
“It’s lovely,” she told Marcus. “Yellow is my favorite color.”
“The bedroom is that way.” Marcus gestured toward the door at the far end of the suite.
She crossed the plush carpet to the bedroom and peeked inside, her breath catching. It was pure luxury with its white four-poster king-size bed, another fireplace and a huge, wall-mounted flat screen television. But she didn’t see the crib Gabriel had promised.
The weight of her sleeping daughter was starting to make her arms ache, so she very gently laid Mia down in the center of the bed and stacked fluffy pillows all around her, in case she woke up and rolled over. She didn’t even stir.
On her way back to the living area Vanessa peered inside the walk-in closet where her bags were waiting for her, and found that it was large enough to hold a dozen of her wardrobes. The bathroom, with its soaking tub and glass-enclosed shower, had every modern amenity known to man.
Princess in the Making Page 2
