Five
A truce?
Vanessa studied Marcus’s face, trying to determine if his words were sincere. Instead, all she could seem to concentrate on was his damp, slicked-back hair and the single wavy lock that had fallen across his forehead. She felt the strongest urge to brush it back with her fingers. And why couldn’t she stop looking at that tantalizing strip of tanned, muscular, bare chest?
“Why would you do that?” she asked, forcing her attention above his neck. He folded his arms over his chest and she had to wonder if he’d seen her staring. Was she creeping him out? If she were him, she would probably be creeped out.
“I thought you wanted me to give you a chance,” he said.
But why the sudden change of heart? A couple of hours ago he could barely stand to be in the same room with her. She couldn’t escape the feeling that he was up to something. “Of course I do, you just didn’t seem too thrilled with the idea.”
“That was before I learned that for the next few weeks, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“My father thinks it would be a good idea for us to get to know one another, and in his absence has asked me to be your companion. I’m to show you and your daughter a good time, keep you entertained.”
Oh no, what had Gabriel done? She wanted Marcus to give her a chance, but not by force. That would only make him resent her more. Not to mention that she hadn’t anticipated him being so…
Something.
Something that made her trip over her own feet and stumble over her words, and do stupid things like stare at his bare chest and insult him to his face.
“I don’t need a companion,” she told him. “Mia and I will be fine on our own.”
“For your safety, you wouldn’t be able to leave the palace without an escort.”
“My safety?”
“There are certain criminal elements to consider.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What kind of criminal elements?”
“The kind who would love nothing more than to get their hands on the future queen. You would fetch quite the ransom.”
She couldn’t decide if he was telling the truth, or just trying to scare her. Kidnappings certainly weren’t unheard of, but Varieo was such a quiet, peaceful country. No handguns, very little crime. Gabriel hadn’t mentioned any potential threat or danger.
And why would he when he was trying to convince her to marry him? There was a reason royalty had bodyguards, right?
Wait a minute. Who even knew that she was here? It wasn’t as if Gabriel would broadcast to the country that eight months after his wife’s death he was bringing his new American girlfriend in for a visit.
Would he?
“The point is,” Marcus said, “my father wanted you to have an escort, and that person is me.”
“What about Tabitha?”
“She’s flying to Italy to be with my father. He takes her everywhere. Some people have even thought…” He paused and shook his head. “Never mind.”
Okay, now he was trying to mess with her.
But how well do you really know Gabriel, that annoying voice of doubt interjected. He could have a dozen mistresses for all she knew. Just because he claimed to have been faithful to his wife didn’t mean it was true. Maybe there was no sick sister-in-law. Maybe he was with another one of his girlfriends. Maybe there had been a scheduling conflict and he chose her over Vanessa. Maybe he—
Ugh! What are you doing?
She trusted Gabriel, and she hated that Marcus could shake her faith with one simple insinuation. And a ridiculous one at that. Maybe she hadn’t known Gabriel long, but in that short time he had never been anything but honest and dependable. And until someone produced irrefutable evidence to the contrary, she was determined to trust him.
This wasn’t another dumb mistake.
It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault that she’d had lousy luck with relationships, and it wasn’t fair to judge him on her own bad experiences. If he wanted her to spend a couple of weeks getting to know his son, that’s what she would do, even if she didn’t exactly trust Marcus, and questioned his motives. She would just be herself, and hope that Marcus would put aside his doubts and accept her.
“I guess I’m stuck with you then,” she told him.
Marcus frowned, looking as if she’d hurt his feelings. “If the idea of spending time with me is so offensive—”
“No! Of course not. That isn’t what I meant.” No matter what she said, it always seemed to be the wrong thing. “I really would like us to get acquainted, Marcus. I just don’t want you to feel pressured, as if you have no choice. I can only imagine how awkward this is for you, and how heartbreaking it was to lose your mother. It sounds as if she was a remarkable woman, and I would never in a million years try to replace her, or even think that I could. I just want Gabriel to be happy. He deserves it. I think that would be much more likely to happen if you and I are friends. Or at the very least, not mortal enemies.”
“I’m willing to concede that I may have rushed to judgment,” he said. “And for the record, my father is not forcing me. I could have refused, but I know it’s important to him.”
It was no apology for his behavior earlier, but it was definitely a start. And she hoped he really meant it, that he didn’t have ulterior motives for being nice to her. “In that case, I would be honored to have you as my escort.”
“So, truce?” he said, stepping closer with an outstretched hand. And boy did he smell good. Some sort of spicy delicious scent that made her want to bury her face in his neck and take a big whiff.
No, she definitely didn’t want to do that. And she didn’t want to feel the zing of awareness when he clasped her hand, the tantalizing shiver as his thumb brushed across the top of her hand, or the residual buzz after he let go.
How could she zing for a man she didn’t even like?
“My father will be sending me a list of activities he thinks you’ll enjoy, and he’s asked me to accompany you to the village tomorrow. If there’s anything in particular you’d like to do, or someplace you would like to see, let me know and we’ll work it into the schedule.”
Honestly, she would be thrilled to just lie around by the pool and doze for a week, but she knew Gabriel wanted her to familiarize herself with the area, because how could she decide if she wanted to live somewhere if she didn’t see it? “If there’s anything I’ll let you know.”
“Be ready tomorrow at ten a.m.”
“I will.”
He nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him.
Vanessa sat on the floor beside her daughter, who had tired of rocking, and was now lying on her tummy gnawing contentedly on a teething ring.
The idea of spending so much time alone with Marcus made her uneasy, but she didn’t seem to have much choice. To refuse would only hurt Gabriel’s feelings, and make her look like the bad guy. At the very least, when the staff saw that Marcus was accepting her, they might warm up to her as well.
Vanessa’s cell phone rang and she jumped up to grab it off the desk, hoping it was Gabriel.
It was her best friend Jessy.
“Hey! I just woke up and got your text,” Jessy said, and Vanessa could picture her, sitting in bed in her pajamas, eyes puffy, her spiky red hair smashed flat from sleeping with the covers pulled over her head. “How was the flight?”
“A nightmare. Mia hardly slept.” She smiled down at her daughter who was still gnawing and drooling all over the blanket. “But she seems to be adjusting pretty well now.”
“Was Gabriel happy to see you?”
Vanessa hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to Jessy, but she was afraid the truth would only add to her friend’s doubts. But if she couldn’t talk to her best friend, who could she talk to?
“There was a slight change of plans.” She explained the situation with Gabriel’s sister-in-law, and why he felt he had to be with her. “I know what you’re probabl
y thinking.”
“Yes, I have reservations about you taking this trip, but I have to trust that you know what’s best for you and Mia.”
“Even if you don’t agree?”
“I can’t help but worry about you, and I absolutely hate the idea of you moving away. But ultimately, what I think doesn’t matter.”
To Vanessa it did. They had been inseparable since Vanessa moved to L.A. With her statuesque figure and exquisitely beautiful features—assets that, unlike Vanessa, she chose to cleverly downplay—Jessy understood what it was like to be labeled the “pretty” girl. She knew that, depending on the circumstances, it could be more of a liability than an asset. They also shared the same lousy taste in men, although Jessy was now in a relationship with Wayne, a pharmaceutical rep, who she thought might possibly be the one. He was attractive without being too handsome—since she’d found most of the really good-looking guys to be arrogant—he had a stable career, drove a nice car and lived in an oceanside condo. And aside from the fact that he had a slightly unstable and bitter ex-wife and a resentful teenaged daughter with self-cutting issues in Seattle, he was darn close to perfect.
Vanessa hoped that they had both found their forever man. God knows they had paid their dues.
“So, what will you do until Gabriel comes back?” Jessy asked, and Vanessa heard the whine of the coffee grinder in the background.
“His son has agreed to be my companion.” Just the thought caused a funny little twinge in her stomach.
“Companion?”
“He’ll take me sightseeing, keep me entertained.”
“Is he as hot in person as he is in the photos you showed me?”
Unfortunately. “On a scale of one to ten, he’s a solid fifteen.”
“So, if things don’t work out with Gabriel…” she teased.
“Did I mention that he’s also a jerk? And he doesn’t seem to like me very much. Not that I don’t understand why.” She picked a hunk of carpet fuzz from Mia’s damp fingers before she could stuff it in her mouth. “Gabriel wants us to be friends. But I think I would settle for Marcus not hating my guts.”
“Vanessa, you’re one of the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful people I’ve ever met. How could he not like you?”
The problem was, sometimes she was too nice and too sweet and too thoughtful. To the point that she let people walk all over her. And Marcus struck her as the sort of man who would take advantage of that.
Or maybe she was being paranoid.
“He’s very…intense,” she told Jessy. “When he steps into a room he’s just so…there. It’s a little intimidating.”
“Well, he is a prince.”
“And Gabriel is a king, but I’ve never felt anything but comfortable with him.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe Gabriel, being older, is more like…a father figure.”
“Jessy, my dad has been enough of a father figure to last a dozen lifetimes.”
“And you’ve told me a million times how his criticism makes you feel like a failure.”
She couldn’t deny that, and Gabriel’s lavish attention did make her feel special, but she wasn’t looking for a substitute father. Quite the opposite in fact. In the past she always found herself attracted to men who wanted to control or dominate her. And the worst part was that she usually let them. This time she wanted a partner. An equal.
Maybe the main thing that bothered her about Marcus—besides the fact that he despised her—was that he seemed a bit too much like the sort of man she used to date.
“I don’t trust Marcus,” she told Jessy. “He made it clear the minute I stepped off the plane that he didn’t like me, then a couple of hours later he was offering to take me sightseeing. He said he’s doing it for his father, but I’m not sure I buy that. If he really wanted to please Gabriel, wouldn’t he have been nice to me the second I stepped off the plane?”
“Do you think he’s going to try to come between you and Gabriel?”
“At this point, I’m not sure what to think.” The only thing she did know was that something about Marcus made her nervous, and she didn’t like it, but she was more or less stuck with him until Gabriel returned.
“I have some good news of my own,” Jessy said. “Wayne has invited me to Arkansas for a couple of days for his parents’ fortieth anniversary party. He wants me to meet his family.”
“You’re going, right?”
“I’d love to. Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve met a man’s family, since I’ve even wanted to? The thing is, they live in a remote area that doesn’t have great cell coverage and I might be hard to get ahold of. I’m just a little worried that if you end up needing me—”
“Jessy, I’ll be fine. Worst-case scenario, I can call my dad.” Although things would have to be pretty awful for her to do that.
“Are you sure? I know you say everything is okay, but I still worry about you.”
“Well, don’t,” she told Jessy. “I can handle Prince Marcus.”
She just hoped that was true.
Six
Marcus was sure he had Vanessa pegged, but after spending a day with her in the village, he was beginning to wonder if his original assumptions about her were slightly, well…unreliable.
His first hint that something might be off was when he arrived at her door at 10 a.m. sharp, fully anticipating a fifteen- or twenty-minute wait while she finished getting ready. It was a game women liked to play. They seemed to believe it drew out the anticipation or gave them power, or some such nonsense, when in reality, it just annoyed him. But when Vanessa opened the door dressed in conservative cotton shorts, a sleeveless top, comfortable-looking sandals and a floppy straw hat, she was clearly ready to go, and with a camera hanging from a strap around her neck, a diaper bag slung over one shoulder and her daughter on her hip, she looked more like an American tourist than a gold digger angling for the position of queen.
His suspicions grew throughout the day while he witnessed her shopping habits—or lack thereof. Tabitha, with only the king’s best interest at heart, had warned Marcus of the credit card his father had requested for Vanessa, and its outrageous credit limit. Therefore, Marcus requested his driver be at the ready in anticipation of armfuls of packages. But by midafternoon they had visited at least a dozen shops showcasing everything from souvenirs to designer clothing to fine jewelry, and though he’d watched her admire the fashions, and seen her gaze longingly at a pair of modestly priced, hand-crafted earrings, all she’d purchased was a T-shirt for her daughter, a postcard that she said she intended to send to her best friend in L.A. and a paperback romance novel—her one guilty pleasure, she’d explained with a wry smile. And she’d paid with cash. He had an even bigger surprise when he heard her speaking to a merchant and realized she spoke his language fluently.
“You never mentioned that you could speak Variean,” he said, when they left the shop.
She just shrugged and said, “You never asked.”
She was right. And everything about her puzzled him. She was worldly and well traveled, but there was a childlike delight and curiosity in her eyes with each new place she visited. She didn’t just see the sights, but absorbed her surroundings like a sponge, the most trivial and mundane details—things he would otherwise overlook—snagging her interest. And she asked a million questions. Her excitement and enthusiasm were so contagious he actually began to see the village with a fresh pair of eyes. Even though they were tired and achy from lack of sleep.
She was intelligent, yet whimsical, and at times even a little flighty. Poised and graceful, yet adorably awkward, occasionally bumping into a store display or another shopper, or tripping on a threshold—or even her own feet. Once, she was so rapt when admiring the architecture of a historical church, she actually walked right into a tourist who had paused abruptly in front of her to take a photo. But instead of looking annoyed, Vanessa simply laughed, apologized and complimented the woman on her shoes.
Va
nessa also had an amusing habit of saying exactly what she was thinking, while she was thinking it, and oftentimes embarrassing herself or someone else in the process.
Though she was obviously many things—or at least wanted him to believe she was—if he had to choose a single word to describe her it would probably be…quirky.
Twenty-four hours ago he would have been content never to see her again. But now, as he sat across from her on a blanket in the shade of an olive tree near the dock, in the members-only park off the marina, watching her snack on sausage, cheese and crackers—which she didn’t eat so much as inhale—with Mia on the blanket between them rocking back and forth, back and forth on her hands and knees, he was experiencing a disconcerting combination of perplexity, suspicion and fascination.
“I guess you were hungry,” he said as she plucked the last cheese wedge from the plate and popped it in her mouth.
Most women would be embarrassed or even offended by such as observation, but she just shrugged.
“I’m borderline hypoglycemic, so I have to eat at least five or six times a day. But I was blessed with a fast metabolism, so I never gain weight. It’s just one more reason for other women to hate me.”
“Why would other women hate you?”
“Are you kidding? A woman who looks like I do, who can eat anything and not gain an ounce? Some people consider that an unforgivable crime, as though I have some sort of control over how pretty I am, or how my body processes nutrients. You have no idea how often as a teenager I wished I were more ordinary.”
Acknowledging her own beauty should have made her come off as arrogant, but she said it with such disdain, so much self-loathing, he actually felt a little sorry for her.
“I thought all women wanted to be beautiful,” he said.
“Most do, they just don’t want other women to be beautiful too. They don’t like competition. I was popular, so I had no real friends.”
That made no sense. “How could you be popular if you had no friends?”
She took a sip of her bottled water than recapped it. “I’m sure you know the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
Princess in the Making Page 5
