Prince and Single Mom

by Morgan Ashbury

  “Why don’t we go and ask him?”

  Chapter 16

  “Madam, Monsieur Cross has asked if you will join him for dinner?”

  The sudden deference of the Maitre d’ startled Hannah. The man’s gently asked question and deep bow seemed over the top.

  As soon as she and Jamie had returned to the resort, they’d gone to their suite. Not on purpose, exactly. But Hannah could admit now that she had avoided going to the coffee lounge, or any of the other public areas of the resort so that she wouldn’t run into Alex.

  Guilt ate at her for the way she’d just taken off for the day. She sighed. She did owe Alex an apology for that. There had been no words of commitment between them, but they had spent some time every day in each other’s company. That bred a certain level of expectation.

  “Yes, thank you. We’d love to join Monsieur Cross,” she answered the waiting man.

  He bowed again to acknowledge her response, and then entreated her to follow him.

  Hannah very much feared she’d gotten used to being waited on. The first night they’d been led to their table for dinner in this lovely dining room, she’d felt as if people stared at her, wondering what she could possibly be doing there. Now, it didn’t seem strange at all. In fact, it was almost normal.

  She had another week of luxury to look forward to before returning home. She had definitely gotten spoiled. The service here made the prospect of preparing her own plain fare for dinner and doing all her own tidying unappetizing.

  Alex got to his feet as they approached his nearly secluded table at the rear of the dining room. His joyful smile ratcheted up her guilt. Before she could speak, he had her hands in his, kissing them, then pulling her forward, and kissing both her cheeks.

  “I am so very pleased you’re joining me for dinner.”

  “I’m so very pleased you wanted me to.”

  “Sit, my dear.” Alex turned to Jamie. “Hello, young sir. Did you have a good day?”

  Hannah envied her grandson his complete ease.

  “Oh yes. We got to go to see Francois this morning, and then Grandma and me went ‘sploring. We went everywhere. I bought postcards to send to my cousins, and I got to show Grandma the place where I became a knight, and you know what? That knight that trained me remembered me and called me Sir James and he bowed really low to Grandma and made her giggle.”

  “It sounds as if you had a wonderful day.”

  Smiling, Hannah relaxed back in her chair. As Alex poured some wine into her glass, she met his eyes. His expression became more serious than she’d seen it.

  “You’ve seen some of my country today, and I am shamed, for I should have been the one to show it to you. You did ask, and I put you off. For that, I am very sorry.”

  “It’s all right, Alex. It’s a beautiful country, and I enjoyed spending the day with Jamie.”

  They decided to have the fettuccini Alfredo, and since it was something Jamie would eat, arranged to have a large bowl from which they could serve themselves. Once the waiter left them, Alex turned to her, his expression troubled.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing. No, it is something. There are some things I would like to say to you, Hannah. Some things I need to discuss with you. Perhaps later, after dinner?”

  After Jamie went to bed, he meant. When she met his eyes, he said, “please,” picking up her hand and kissing it. “It is just the opportunity to talk that I’m asking for, nothing more.”

  She thought that he meant to tell her that she wasn’t his usual type, maybe even that it would be for the best if they stopped spending time together. It broke her heart, because as the day had progressed she’d come to realize how very much she loved him.

  But if her life had taught her anything, it was that you couldn’t make someone do anything they didn’t want to do. And if he didn’t want to spend time with her, nothing she could say or do would change that.

  “Yes, Alex. Of course. You can come back with me to our suite after dinner. Jamie has taken to watching videos in his room in the evening before bed. We can relax in the sitting room and talk.” And, she mentally added, I can begin to mourn the loss of something truly wonderful from my life. She’d face the music, she thought with a sinking heart. But he didn’t have to seem so damned pleased by the prospect.

  * * * *

  “This is crazy. You can’t do this. Will you listen to reason! My God, Philip, your father’s the king!”

  Philip spared her a glance as he stepped on the accelerator, speeding them out of the farm compound.

  “Yes, I know. As he has been all my life. This is not news to me.”

  “He’s going to flip out when you ‘bring me home’. Please, don’t do this. I’m used to being humiliated by people I hardly know. But you are going to be majorly embarrassed.”

  “One of the things we will do, when we visit your maman in Canada after we are married is look up this Mrs. Crawford across the hall and I will give her a piece of my mind.”

  “She doesn’t matter. Really.”

  “Yes, she does, really. And I am not bringing you to my home, because Father is not there. So we are going to where he is, instead. That reminds me, I should tell my brother.”

  “Oh God, not your brother, too! Your entire family is going to run me out of town on a rail.”

  Grabbing his cell phone off the seat, he hit the speed dial at the same time he took a turn a bit too fast, squealing the tires. He kept his conversation with Michael short, in French, and one-sided. Just in case the fear Kate voiced contained a trace of truth—he was nearly one hundred-percent certain it did not—he didn’t wish to give His Royal Highness the Crown Prince a moment to try and dissuade him. Not that he could. Not that anyone could. If it meant walking away from being a member of the royal family, he’d do it. If it meant leaving the country of his birth and moving to a strange land, he would do that too. But he would not live without his Kate by his side. And he would listen to no one who tried to tell him he should. To that end, Philip turned off the phone, tossed it into the console, and put his attention back on the road.

  “You won’t listen. No beheading, you said. Well, that’s some comfort, anyway.”

  Philip laughed. What the hell. Picking up her hand, he kissed it, then placed it on his leg.

  “They’re going to love you, Kate. I know they will, because I do.”

  * * * *

  Holy Hell. Michael dropped the telephone and surged to his feet.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  The tall man who’d gotten to his feet at the same time wore an alert look that shouted danger. Lean and muscular, Michael knew him to be at home wherever he happened to be, whether a formal state affair, a lazy afternoon at the ranch, or a pitched battle against ruthless thugs. He had been Michael’s best friend for four years, ever since that trip to London and the barroom brawl that could have left his father one crown prince short. Right at this moment, his best friend looked in need not only of some sleep but of a hair cut and a shave as well. Not surprising, since the man had been home, and sitting across from Michael, for only about two minutes.

  But those things would have to wait. A drama—or perhaps a farce—was about to play out at Marcus’ resort. Michael didn’t think he could stop it from happening. But he could try. He pushed away the thought that it would be a show he didn’t want to miss. Such an unworthy thought for a crown prince.

  After calling for a car to be brought around, he turned to his friend. “What is that expression you once used with regard to feces and an air circulating device?”

  For a moment the man looked blank. Then laughing, he answered, “What? The shit’s about to hit the fan?”

  “Yes. That one. Come, I’ll try to explain everything on the way.”

  “I don’t have my weapon,” the man protested, falling in step beside him as they headed for the door.

  “Trust me. You won’t need it.”

  * * * *

 
; The fettuccine had been very nicely prepared, the sauce a perfect balance between cream and cheese, both light and plentiful. Alex relished the taste as he took another forkful. The bowl remained yet half full, and though he rarely indulged in second helpings, he thought tonight he might. He’d decided to be honest with Hannah, and tell her everything. That alone had been enough to lift his spirits and increase his appetite. Also, he enjoyed being with her and her grandson. Alex especially liked watching the careful way Jamie twirled his fork against his spoon. He was an absolutely delightful boy.

  “So, you spent the day with your grandmother,” he asked. “Your mother did not go with you?”

  “Naw.” A quick look at his grandmother must have given him a kick in his manners. Alex nearly chuckled, but recalling times with his own children, managed to refrain at the last moment.

  “I mean, no. Well, she went with us to the farm, of course. But after I finished riding Francois she decided to stay with Philip. I really like him too, ‘cause he knows guy stuff. He’s cool, even if he did kiss my mom. Kissing girls is so gross, even if they are your mom.”

  Alex stilled, as the words finally registered, which happened to be about the same time the commotion started at the other end of the dining room. A couple argued loudly as they entered the room. It wasn’t often that the cathedral-like silence of the Villa’s most formal dining area was breached. As he listened, his heart sank.

  “What do you mean your father’s here? What on earth is he doing here? Will you please stop dragging me!”

  “I would stop dragging you if you would stop dragging your feet. I have faced small children with less reluctance to get a shot than you are exhibiting now, at the prospect of facing your future father-in-law.”

  “He is not my future father-in-law. Stop saying that! He’s going to take one look at me and forbid you to ever see me again. We both know that!”

  Hannah must have heard the voices too, for she turned to Alex. “That sounded like Catharine!”

  As Alex watched, his entire world changed in one defining, and almost orchestrated moment.

  Philip approached the table, with a reluctant and somewhat petulant Catharine.

  Jamie’s “Hi Mom. Hi Philip,” tinkled like the strings of a viola in this strange orchestra.

  Philip’s serious, “Papa, I want you to meet my Kate. Oh…Hannah…you know my father?” sounded more like the clang of cymbals than actual words.

  Even the pounding of running feet, of Michael’s softly spoken curse as he and their security chief reached the table added to the strange symphony they all seemed to be performing together.

  But Alex didn’t acknowledge any of them. It was Hannah’s face he focused on, and Hannah’s reaction that concerned him. Watching, he saw the slow straightening of her spine, the understanding that moved across her face. His sinking sensation deepened, and for the first time in his life, he thought he might not mind a sudden hole swallowing him up. But the time for hiding, for changing the subject—in short, the time for prevarication—had ended. He inhaled deeply, bracing for whatever came next.

  “He called you ‘Father’,” she finally said. “That would make you the king?”

  “It would.”

  “I see. And while you had me in your bed, numerous times, I might add, this wasn’t a fact you felt necessary to impart to me?”

  Alex winced, and could only be grateful that Hannah spoke so quietly that only those gathered around the table—four adults who made a passable screen against any interested onlookers—could hear. But that turned out to be bad enough.

  “Uh, oh. Mais, non. Papa.” That tone of pity belonged to Philip.

  “Oh my God!” Catharine gasped, or as his son called her, Kate.

  “Son of a bitch.” His security chief, and a sudden realization in that area just made a bizarre situation totally ridiculous.

  “I should have told you.” He addressed only Hannah. “I’m sorry. I wanted to, truly. I intended to. Tonight.” He fell silent, overcome by the sensation that what he said was far too little, and way too late.

  For a long moment, she simply stared at him. The hurt that ghosted across her face struck at his heart. He began to understand that his omission had been a bigger mistake than he’d realized.

  Tilting her head to the side, Hannah smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile at all. “Well, no wonder I didn’t recognize you. You’re not wearing your crown, Your Majesty. Here, why don’t I help you with that?”

  It took him a moment to understand what she meant to do. By then, it was too late. Snatching up the bright copper-tinted bowl containing the rest of their dinner, she up-ended it over his head.

  Other than gasps from the staff and one or two other resort guests, Jamie’s shocked “Grandma!” and what sounded suspiciously like choked-off laughter from his sons and Catharine, there was deadly silence for a long moment.

  “Good news, Papa. The lady does not seem to be intimidated by your title after all.” That over-cheerful comment came from Michael.

  “Good shot, Mom. A definite statement, if ever I saw one. ”

  Alex watched her jolt, turn to the tall blond man who stood beside his oldest son. The sheen of hurt and temper on her face transformed into an expression of dawning joy. It was something, Alex thought as pasta dripped from his head and over his face, to be grateful for.

  “Oh my God! Peter!”

  “Welcome to Boisdemer, Mother.”

  Chapter 17

  “If you’d been anybody else, I’d have to make an arrest for assault on the person of the king.”

  Hannah stopped in the middle of the sitting room in her suite and turned to face her youngest son.

  “That’s a fine thing to say to your mother after all these years.”

  “It was either that or, of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world…”

  She went to him, put her arms around him, and laughed. But after a moment her laughter turned to tears again, and she clung to him all the more tightly. He held her just as close, and she thought his voice sounded strained as he kept saying, “I’m sorry,” over and over again.

  “I always knew the day would come when I’d see you again. Now, stop apologizing. You followed your own path, also something I always knew you’d have to do. I’m sorry, if I somehow made you feel as if your father’s heart attack had been your fault. It wasn’t, darling.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, Mom. You never gave me that impression. I manufactured the guilt all on my own.”

  Hannah stepped out of his arms and wiped her tears. She realized they weren’t alone. Giselle hovered by the door, wringing her hands, as she had been since they entered the suite.

  Peter must have noticed her discomfort, for he looked at the maid and spoke softly to her in French. Whatever he said had her relaxing, and going to the kitchen area.

  “We’ll have tea, and you can tell me how you came to be here. And I think, for the moment, I’ll forget that part about you being in Alex’s bed.”

  “You call him Alex?”

  “At his insistence. Long story.”

  Hannah reached over and caressed his arm, unable to resist the temptation to simply touch him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She waited until Giselle had set the tea tray down. “Could you leave us, please?”

  “Of course, madame.”

  When the door had closed, she smiled at her son. “I’ll pour, you talk.”

  “From the beginning, then. After I left home, I went to Toronto, then on to Montreal. I worked at whatever odd jobs I could find. Then I signed on to a cruise ship line. Worked for a year, ended up in London. There I was hired by a security company, and learned the ins and outs of that industry. Had a few interesting adventures. Then, one night about four years ago, I wandered into a pub. There’s this fancy pants tourist with a French accent and the word ‘trout’ written across his forehead. He’d ventured onto the wrong side of the wharf, if you know what I mean. And, I don’t know
, I felt sorry for the guy. He thought he could handle the thugs bent on separating him from his money, and messing with his pretty-boy looks. He couldn’t, so I stepped in and gave him a hand. The tourist turned out to be His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Michael of Boisdemer. My security company boss fired me for getting involved in a pub brawl while on an undercover assignment. Michael’s father, grateful I saved his son’s life, hired me.”

  Hannah sat back with her cup of tea, and considered the man her middle child had grown to be. The years they’d been apart revealed themselves in the contours of his face, not altogether unkindly. He had more muscle than she remembered, and held up better under her parental scrutiny than he used to.

  That she had found him here and now, when all she wanted to do—selfishly—was run away home, could only be chalked up as one of life’s little cosmic jokes.

  “I think you told me the extremely edited, condensed PG version.”

  “You’re my mother. Of course I told you the condensed PG version.”

  Laughing felt good.

  “Okay, I can’t forget it,” Peter said. “What did you say about being in Alex’s bed?”

  “You’re my son, and you can damn sure bet you’ve already had the condensed PG version of that.”

  “All right, we’ll table that for now. Was that Catharine with Philip? What’s the story there?”

  “Hell, in all this mess I forgot about her. Where did she and Jamie go?”

  “Jamie?”

  “Your nephew.”

  “Oh. The kid.” A look of shock crossed his face. “They, ah, went with Michael and Philip to Alex’s suite.”

  Hannah looked away from Peter for a moment. Funny how, in all the excitement, she’d forgotten about Catharine and Philip arriving in the dining room. Closing her eyes, she pulled the argument the two had been having from her memory.

  “Another long story. But I think Philip wants to marry your sister.”