MAID FOR A PRINCE: (Book 1) (Point St. Claire, where true love finds a way)

by Robyn Grady

A deathly silence followed. Everything stood frozen. Acadia prayed. If she didn’t breathe, maybe she would wake again and this time find Leandros returning from the villa with enough provisions to help them reach safety. She wouldn’t be standing here, quaking, offering her soul in exchange for escape—for another chance.

  As time wound on, her eyes began to sting. She blinked, and in that instant the gates of hell were thrown apart.

  A bear of a man appeared at the chamber’s entrance. Leandros yelled at him to stop, but the man charged on. Then they were clashing, growling like dogs, throwing punches. Acadia tossed a frantic glance around. She needed to help, in some way needed to fight too.

  She lay the baby down and jumped on the intruder’s broad back. Bucking, he threw her off into the air. Her chin hit the rock floor and spinning stars exploded before her eyes. When the flashes faded, she rolled onto her side, crawled to her knees, and then to her feet. Out of the darkness, the goddess’s form, the figurine, appeared like a prize before her, wise and benevolent.

  The men were scuffling, rolling and skidding over the ground. Leandros held a dagger but the other man had a gun. Someone was about to die, and Acadia needed to make certain who—

  Helene groaned.

  They’d reached the last page, but clearly the story didn’t end there.

  “Guess we have another search on our hands.”

  “If it takes me ten years,” Tahlia said, just as disappointed, “I’ll find the rest of that story.”

  Helene raised a brow. “That sounds as if you’re going to hang around.”

  “This is my home. It’s where all my memories begin. No matter where I go, I’ll always come back home, even if it’s just to visit.” Tahlia squeezed Helene’s hand. “Particularly when I’m an auntie.”

  Later that evening, sitting at the foot of their bed, Helene filed her nails in between watching Darius pace. He was still torn about Tahlia and Otis going on vacation together.

  “You know, Tahlia told me today that this would always be her home.”

  “Otis and I need to have a long talk before they leave,” Darius said, pacing back, frowning. “He needs to respect her.”

  “I’m sure he already does.”

  “And if she gets pregnant?”

  “Like we got pregnant.”

  He stopped. A mix of expressions crossed his face before he took a seat alongside of her. “It really is out of my hands.”

  “We have it all ahead of us with this one.” She placed his hand on her tummy.

  “Seeing Alexio’s granddaughter the other day…” He sighed. “She’s so small.”

  “Word is they grow up quickly.”

  He chuckled. “Too quickly.”

  He stole a kiss that turned into a heavy duty embrace. Together they fell back onto the mattress.

  When the kiss slowly broke, he fanned a hand over her hair. “I think I’m done pacing.”

  “In that case, I’m done with my nails.”

  His palm traced the flat plane of her belly as if it contained the world’s greatest and most mysterious treasure—which it did.

  “I wonder whether we have a boy or a girl.”

  “Could be both.”

  “Twins?” His head lowered and he kissed the spot his hand had caressed. “Lots of diapers.”

  “Twice as much to love.”

  His gaze drifted up to hers. His jaw shifted, and then he took a breath like he had something important he needed to say. Helene wondered if he wanted to say that his feelings for her had deepened. Not because he needed to reassure her, but because he’d truly fallen in love with her, like she’d fallen in love with him. Lately, she wondered if there’d ever been a time when she hadn’t loved this man.

  Tugging the sash from around her waist, he was about to kiss her again when the bedroom extension rang.

  “Who’s calling at this time?” she asked.

  Darius reached for the phone. “There are only a handful of people who know this direct line.”

  He picked up and muttered a greeting. Soon his face turned dark and he pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

  Helene moved into the attached bathroom. She didn’t want to eavesdrop.

  She slipped into a white lace negligee, brushed her hair and her teeth, dabbed on French perfume from an ornate bottle Darius had given her then, opening the door, moved back into the bedroom. Finished with his call, shoulders rounded, Darius was still sitting in the same spot. He didn’t move, didn’t look up.

  A shiver brushed over her skin. Who had he spoken to on that special extension?

  His voice was low, graveled. “That was Galen. He’s decided not to wait until the coronation to visit. He’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

  Sinking down beside him, Helene digested the news. “Will he bring his wife?”

  “He’s coming alone for a short stay, he said.” Groaning, Darius dropped his head in his hands. “I want to see him, but he couldn’t come at a worse time. I wanted to announce our engagement this week. We don’t need any bad memories stirred up.”

  “Maybe his being here will help. Everyone can see for themselves that whatever the reason your uncle was pushed out, that’s all in the past. They’ll know you’ve both moved on, made amends. They’ll see that times have changed.”

  He stood and crossed to a sideboard, poured a scotch and tossed it back. He looked more agitated than she’d ever seen him.

  “It’s been so long,” she said. “He’s older. People probably won’t even recognize him.” She propped up a pillow, patted the sheet. “You can’t do anything about it now. Try and get some rest.”

  “I told you about the group who tried to take my mother hostage,” he said. “That they were rallying to get rid of us all. There are always those types lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to dredge up trouble.”

  When his gaze traveled from her face to her belly, Helene’s hands automatically covered the spot. This was all speculation. Calm and peace had reigned here for decades, and it would continue to reign during and after Galen’s visit. They just needed to think clearly. Put things into perspective.

  She left the bed and crossed over to him. “Sometimes thinking about something is worse than when it actually happens.”

  He started pacing again.

  God, she hated seeing him like this.

  Helene tried again. “You should try to keep calm.”

  “I’m as calm as I can be.”

  He threw back another scotch and reached for the decanter again. Her hand gripped his.

  “Sit down,” she begged.

  “I need to think this through.”

  “I just want to…”

  “Help?” Looking defeated, he closed his eyes. “You can’t.”

  Because she’d only make things worse? Because she didn’t really understand?

  She ought to simply get under the covers and wait for him to settle down and join her when he was ready. But was this a taste of what her life here with Darius would be like? They’d just gotten engaged and she felt as if she’d been relegated into a space.

  She watched him set off again, refilled glass in one hand. He was thinking more about yesterdays than tomorrows. Both his parents had passed on recently. Soon he would be crowned king, be married, become a father. She understood he was under pressure, but storming around wouldn’t help.

  Didn’t help her, either.

  “Darius, please, just take a few deep breaths.”

  He continued to pace.

  “Nothing can change the past,” she said. “Your father would understand that. Your father would want you to—”

  “Helene, please, leave me be!”

  At the same time he snapped, Darius hurled the glass at a wall and Helene froze with fright. After a moment, he shook his head slowly. He glanced at the shattered glass and dragged a hand down his face.

  “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I didn’t mean to—”

  He was walking toward her when
a noise—a thud—filtered through the room. His brow wrinkled before his eyes widened. Then he strode directly to the cabinet that housed the figurine. He parted the curtain. When he leaned against the wall for support, Helene covered her mouth but a gasp still escaped.

  The figurine was on the floor. Her head was separated from her body, which was cracked through in half a dozen places.

  Darius sank to his knees. Carefully, he collected a piece and cradled it in his hands, close to his chest. The figurine wasn’t the only one broken. Darius looked destroyed, too.

  “She was set well back,” he rasped. “I-I don’t understand.” His gaze drifted up from the rock and, frowning, he blinked. “Have you taken her out? God, if you wanted to see her again, Helene, why didn’t you just ask?”

  What? “I didn’t go anywhere near her.”

  At his deepest level, he was a Vasily, a man whose veins ran with centuries of royal blood. For all his education and talk about the progress of his country, he’d been taught to respect tradition and half listen to superstition. To believe in prophecy. The cave-in, the pregnancy, Galen coming home, now the figurine lying there destroyed…

  She read his mind.

  His entire life, everything, had changed the day he’d met her.

  Thirty minutes later, in a private sitting room at the other end of the palace, Darius snatched the stopper off a crystal decanter and grabbed a glass. Then he remembered the scene earlier—how he’d lost control, raised his voice, tossed that glass—and he set the stopper back in its place.

  His stomach was still on the floor when Yanni suddenly appeared at the door, looking frustratingly cool and collected.

  “It seems that the walls have ears,” Darius drawled.

  “A concerned staff member passed on that you left your quarters looking rather agitated.”

  “I got a phone call from Galen. He’s arriving tomorrow.”

  Yanni’s glasses seemed to flash in the muted light. Then Darius admitted how the figurine had somehow fallen off her perch and was now a pile of rubble.

  “She’s spent centuries locked away, safe and sound,” Darius said. “But when it’s my turn…” He flinched.

  His father would have disowned him. And then there was Helene. He’d accused her of tampering with the figurine. But he’d immediately seen in her face that she hadn’t, and wouldn’t. Still, she’d been upset enough to return to her previous quarters. She didn’t think he trusted her. She assumed he thought she was a klutz.

  Spilled paint. Broken glasses.

  She did have a history…

  Hands clasped before him, Yanni crossed over. “I’ll have an expert look at the figurine,” he said. “We’ll have her restored.”

  “The finest craftsman would die of old age before putting her halfway back together.” Considering the options, he rapped a set of fingertips on the chair arm. “I’ll sweep up the pieces myself and…”

  Yanni waited. “And what, Your Highness?”

  Dazed, Darius shook his head. “I have no idea. What does a person do with a priceless artifact that he’s demolished? She’s only been known through legend. No one would ever be the wiser. But I know.” He hadn’t protected her.

  Emotion swelled in his chest, burning and twisting. “I was going to make an announcement,” he said. “Helene’s pregnant.”

  Yanni stepped back as if someone had pushed him.

  “I’ve proposed,” Darius went on. “The child is mine and no power on earth will convince me to walk away.”

  “And Ms. Masters?”

  “She accepted.”

  “You sound…conflicted.”

  “I know what she thought tonight when the figurine fell. If it hadn’t been for her, the goddess would have been locked away in a vault.”

  And then he’d seen it on her face. She wanted to run back to what was familiar. She wanted to return to the States, to her haven of Point St. Claire.

  “But nothing is her fault. I made those choices. And now I can’t undo them.”

  Yanni shifted, his nose scrunching and hands rubbing like he had an itch that was driving him insane. Finally he stretched to his full meager height and announced, “Your Highness, there’s something you should see.”

  Darius groaned. “Now?”

  “It’s important.”

  Darius was weary, frustrated. But Yanni looked determined. Exhaling, he pushed on the chair’s arms, found his feet and followed his Chief Aide out the door.

  Yanni led him to a nearby room, to a vault, which he opened before stepping well back. Darius lowered onto haunches, looked inside… And his jaw nearly smacked the ground. He rubbed his eyes and, with his heart belting against his ribs, looked harder. “What is that? Some sort of joke?”

  “That, Your Highness, is the true and original goddess.”

  “Impossible. My father swore to me on his grave…”

  “Your father didn’t know. This figurine has been handed down via every Chief Aide through the ages. It’s an arduous journey back and forth over the water. And as far as staying in that cave where anyone might find her…” Yanni shuddered so much his glasses slipped. “Only once that I’m aware of was she bundled away for a brief period to wait inside that chamber. But that occurred under extreme circumstances almost a hundred years ago.”

  With infinite care, Yanni slid the figurine out of the safe and handed it to Darius. With that warm steady weight in his hands, he was left near speechless.

  “Yanni?”

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “I’m shaking so much I might drop her.” Yanni took back the figurine as Darius let out a relieved sigh. “You know, Helene thought we should build her a home. A place where she would be protected but where others could enjoy her, too.”

  “You want to put the goddess on display?”

  “I know. It sounds exploitive.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Darius’s brows hiked up. “You agree?”

  “We don’t have to decide tonight.” Yanni slipped the figurine back into her safe. “From what you’ve told me, you have a more pressing matter to attend to. How will you handle meeting your uncle tomorrow?”

  “My father exiled the man. As far as I can see, there’s only one thing I can do.”

  The next morning, Darius knocked on Helene’s door. He waited, tapped his foot, and knocked again, this time louder. Finally, the door fanned open.

  Helene wore an inexpensive cotton dress. As always, she glowed, but smudges beneath her eyes showed she hadn’t slept.

  “I was harsh last night,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “If that accident was anyone’s fault, it was mine. And I don’t want you to worry about the figurine.” He would explain all about last night’s incredible discovery later when a decision had been made about the goddess’s future residence. “I regret the words we had.”

  She leaned against the jamb. “I haven’t been able to stop going over it all in my head. Everything that’s happened since we met. You might not believe me, but I didn’t touch the figurine—”

  “No. I do believe you.”

  Her mouth tugged to one side then a shoulder came up. “Darius, I want to go home for a while.”

  His first instinct was to tell her she didn’t have to go anywhere. He could handle Galen, the coronation—it would be easier if she was by his side rather than him worrying about when, or if, she would ever come back. He wanted to bring her to him, kiss her, and apologize again, but he thought that would only firm up her resistance. She didn’t want to be seduced. She wanted to negotiate.

  He slid both hands in his pants pockets. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe I could go with you.” He tried on a smile. “I should probably meet your mom before the big day.”

  “You can’t leave here now.”

  His hands came out of their pockets. “Then why don’t you stay?” He amended, “Just until Galen leaves and the
announcements are made.”

  She held his gaze until her eyes began to shine. But she didn’t look away. “I think we should put off any announcements.”

  Ice cold sailed through his middle. “You don’t want to marry me?”

  “You’ve talked enough about rebellion and traditions and superstitions…Darius, frankly, I’m a little spooked. And I have someone else to worry about now.”

  “So do I.”

  “Then you understand.”

  He reached for her hands. He didn’t have any answers—only two words. “Don’t go.”

  She blinked several times as if fighting back tears. “Darius, I need to tell you…” She took in a breath. “I’m in love with you. Marrying you would be so much more than a convenience to me. But I can’t stay now. I need to go home. And, to be honest, really honest…I can’t tell you when I’ll be back.”

  Chapter 16

  Later that morning, Darius met Galen as he got off an incoming ship. Darius walked straight up. Recognizing his nephew, Galen smiled and offered his hand.

  Looking into his uncle’s dark eyes, seeing the resemblance… For a moment, it was like seeing his father again.

  “Welcome home.”

  Galen set a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “It’s been too long.”

  Darius could have ordered a carriage straight back to the palace or headed for the other side of the island where only lovers hid away in the woods and the coves, but he didn’t want to hide. He was done with speculating on what ills might befall if he didn’t run his life to the letter of his father’s law.

  So he led Galen to Alexio’s taverna and was directed to his usual table by the waitress who had taken Helene’s place.

  “I know this must have caused an inconvenience,” Galen said, reaching for the coffee the waitress had hurried to serve. “I appreciate you seeing me.”

  “I was surprised by your call. I didn’t know if you’d ever want to come back.”

  “I never wanted to leave but, for everyone’s sakes, I had no option.”

  And Darius’s father had had no option but to exile his brother. But he didn’t want to dredge up bad memories. He was eager to hear about his uncle’s new life.