by Raye Morgan
Her voice made a tiny break over the word “moved” and the pain she’d felt in giving up Heidi swept over her again, made more poignant with passing time. She caught her breath and then her gaze met Sebastian’s and, for just a moment, she thought he was going to smile at her again. There was a warmth in his eyes she’d never seen there before. But it disappeared quickly as Trudy started up again.
“Never mind the dog. It’s a bride you need.”
He nodded, and his look went back to being cynical and a bit world-weary. “I understand. You want to make sure I don’t provide any further embarrassment to the family.”
“It’s not just the family, my dear. It’s the country. Think of Meridia.”
A rebellious flame flared up in his eyes, but it faded quickly. Emma felt a stirring of sympathy for him. He really seemed to feel trapped by this situation. She wasn’t sure she would have liked it any better than he did to be told what you were going to be doing with the rest of your life, no opinions from you allowed.
“With this inflammatory press coverage, finding a bride may be a problem,” he said lightly.
Trudy waved that point away with a scoffing sound. “There will be plenty of women who would jump at the chance of marrying the King of Meridia.”
“Yes,” Sebastian admitted in an offhand manner, “but the kind of woman who would jump at the chance isn’t likely to be the kind of woman I’m going to ask, now, is she?”
Trudy’s mouth was set, her lips pursed. It was evident she felt she was dealing with a recalcitrant youth who needed to wise up. “You don’t have much choice, do you?”
His gaze drifted toward her companion on the bench. “Maybe I should marry Emma,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of mockery as he studied her.
He certainly had a knack for bringing the contrarian out in her. That mocking tone really stung.
“I’m sorry, but Emma wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth,” she said sharply.
He gave a helpless shrug that was all show, an obvious demand for compassion. “You see? Rejected already.” His handsome face was a study in tragedy.
“Oh…I didn’t really mean it,” she said quickly, wishing she could call back the words. “That just wasn’t true. I mean…”
He half laughed, his eyes full of amusement. “Of course it wasn’t true. Why should it be true? Women never tell the truth.”
Emma gasped, truly and honestly shocked at the casual assumption he was making. “What?”
“Don’t tell me this is news to you.”
For some reason, this attitude made her absolutely furious with him. “You…you’re impossible!” she cried, jumping up and taking a step backward as though she was about to make a run for it.
“Exactly what I’m afraid of,” Trudy muttered, rising from her seat. “I think we need Agatha.” She frowned at Sebastian, seemingly genuinely annoyed with him at last. “She knows how to keep you in line. Wait here.” And she hurried off.
Emma watched her go, wondering again who this Agatha might be—and marking the direction Trudy took, keeping it in mind for her own departure.
“Sit down,” Sebastian said, dropping down himself and taking her hand to pull her into the seat beside him. “She’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She settled beside him, staying on the edge of the seat as though ready to jump up and run at the slightest chance. She didn’t know why she wasn’t following Trudy out and leaving herself. Instead, she was sitting beside this large handsome man who infuriated her and then made her pulse flutter just by looking at her. Was she crazy?
There was a short answer to that question: yes!
She began to gather herself.
“Well, I’d better go too.”
He captured her hand and held it in his.
“I wish you’d stay,” he said. “For my aunt’s sake. She’ll be more comfortable. You saw how anxious she was to have you join us.” His wide mouth twitched at the corners. He looked down at the way her hand looked in his and a faint frown formed as he released her. “I think she doesn’t want to be alone with me.”
“Why on earth not?” she said, astonished.
He shrugged and looked away, rubbing his neck with one hand. “She’s afraid of what I’ll ask her.”
That stopped her in her tracks. She thought back to the night before when he’d brought up the suspicions of poisoning in his father’s death. Had he been serious? She wasn’t sure. Something about the way he’d used it as a weapon against his cousin—and maybe against other targets she wasn’t aware of—made her think he was manipulating things with motives she couldn’t understand.
Later, alone in her room, she’d thought over what had happened and decided it was almost as though he’d been trying to flush someone out and uncover some secrets. She wished she knew more of the background so that she could make her own judgements. She’d even called her cousin Louise back in London and asked her to help.
“I’ve got no Internet access here,” Emma had told her. “And no way to get to a public library. Do you think you could do a little research for me?”
“Sure, I’ll do what I can and call you back,” her willing cousin had said.
“Great. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells. I need a map of the territory.”
“Okey dokey. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” Louise’s bright voice always lightened her spirits. “In the meantime, watch out for land mines.”
The prince was probably the biggest land mine she knew, and here she was sitting with him again. She’d never been known as a risk taker before. What the heck was she doing here?
“Your aunt seems to be in a big hurry to get you married,” she noted, not eager to stay with the subject of why Trudy might not want to answer Sebastian’s questions.
“Naturally. They all are. They’re terrified of leaving open the opportunity for another scandal.”
“Scandal?” She wasn’t sure what he was referring to.
He gave her a quizzical look. “Surely you know about my brother.”
She frowned. She knew she’d heard something about why he’d abdicated, but she couldn’t quite remember the details.
“What was the story on your brother? Wasn’t it something like the Duke of Windsor and Mrs Simpson?”
Sebastian’s slight smile was cold. “There are similarities, but it’s not quite the same. In that case, the King of England gave up the throne because he was in love with a divorced woman. These days we don’t care all that much about divorced women. My brother’s case was a little different. His paramour wasn’t divorced, but he was male.”
“Oh. And we still have a bit of a problem with that, do we?”
“Here in Meridia we do.”
“So who was scandalized?”
“The entire country went nuts,” he said. “There were riots in the streets.”
“You’re kidding.” She was truly surprised. “I would have thought most people could take things like that in their stride these days.”
“Not a chance. Meridia is an old-fashioned place with traditional values. The twenty-first century is pretty much still just a rumor around here. Meridians don’t like it when one of their own does something they consider out of bounds.”
“I see.” She also saw that such narrow expectations might be a problem for a man like Sebastian who was used to a wider worldview.
“Everyone had pinned hopes on Julius.” His eyes narrowed as he looked off into the sky. “He excelled at everything all through school, academically and athletically. He was the golden-haired child, sure to be a great leader once he became king. Everyone said so. He was going to lead the country into some sort of new Promised Land of milk and honey.”
He paused, slowly shaking his head. “And then his time came, and he turned his back on the whole thing. I couldn’t believe it when my uncle called to tell me what had happened. Everyone was stunned. He’d never done anything to indicate he might throw it all away. To the contrary. He w
as such a team player. The people were looking forward to having him as their ruler. And now…”
He turned to look at her, searching her eyes as though she might have an answer to the mystery. And she stared back, wishing she had what he was looking for. From offhand things he’d said, she assumed he wasn’t the most enthusiastic heir to the throne the country had ever seen.
“Well, now they have you,” she said, hoping to sound perky and supportive. “Despite those terrible headlines, I’m sure they’re thrilled.”
“With me?” He looked astonished, then laughed aloud. “Oh, Emma. If you only knew.”
“What?”
He gazed at her for a moment, then looked away. “I was the black sheep of the family. Every time Julius did something good, I did something bad.”
He grimaced. “And now the good people of Meridia are stuck with the loser and they’re very worried. If the perfect prince could run off the rails like that, what will the royal rebel do?”
She bit her lip. He was trying to sound a note of cynical bravado, but she thought she could sense a thread of deep bitterness behind it.
“Are you really such a black sheep?” she asked softly.
He looked at her again, hesitated, then gave her a humorless smile.
“I was. It was a point of pride with me. And it put me at constant odds with my father.”
She laughed softly. “That’s not so special. I know something about fathers.”
“Ah, you have one too, do you?”
“Yes, I do.” Her smile faded as she thought of him.
“My father must have disowned me a hundred times over the years,” he added.
“But he always took you back.”
“Yes.” The bitterness had crept into his smile. “My mother made him.”
“Oh.” She knew his mother had died about two years before. “Were you close to her?”
He looked surprised at her question, but he answered with simple honesty. “Yes. Very.”
The emotion in his voice touched a deep chord in her and she frowned. She didn’t want to be touched by him. Instinctively, she knew how dangerous that could be.
Suddenly she was completely aware of him, aware of his smooth, tanned skin, his long, tapered fingers, aware of the way his muscular thighs pulled the material of his jeans taut, aware of his body heat.
“I should go,” she said, though she couldn’t seem to get her muscles to help her achieve that goal.
“You’re a big believer in responsibility, aren’t you?” he said casually, turning toward her and resting his arm on the seat behind her so that he was so close, his face was almost touching hers. “Do you ever break the rules, Emma?”
He was looking at her in that mesmerizing way again and she was breathless.
“Rules?” she said, very much afraid that her voice had squeaked on the word. “What rules?”
He smiled. “That’s the ticket,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Forget the rules. Follow your heart.”
“I…” She cleared her throat. “I prefer to follow my head,” she said, hoping he couldn’t tell that her voice was shaking.
For some reason, he’d taken her chin in his large hand and was looking down at her.
“You have very kissable lips, Emma Valentine,” he noted softly, as though it were news she could use.
“No.”
She wasn’t sure if she was rejecting his opinion on her lips or just generally telling him to stop, because that head she’d thought she could count on was spinning like a top and thinking straight was getting to be a monumental chore.
“Yes, you do,” he countered, his long fingers stroking her cheek. “I think we should try it out.”
She blinked. “Try what out?”
One dark eyebrow raised. “Kissing.”
“Oh.”
She couldn’t think of an argument against it. Her mind was fuzzy, though, so it wasn’t really fair to test her like this. She tried to think, but feeling was crowding that out. His fingers felt like heaven on her face, conjuring up pure excitement.
He wanted to kiss her. And suddenly she’d never wanted anything more than she wanted that kiss to happen. She lifted her lips, hungry to taste his. Her eyes were closing and she was leaning his way, ready.
But he hesitated a beat longer than she expected. In a flash, she knew why. He was listening to see if his aunt was coming back yet. Somehow, that thought was like cold water. It woke her up and she jerked away.
“Wait a minute,” she said, eyes wide open now. “Hold everything. This is ridiculous.” Putting both hands on his chest, she pushed him back. He looked puzzled and be-mused by her reaction.
“Against kissing, are you?”
“I didn’t come here for kissing.”
“What did you come here for, then?”
“Cooking, of course.”
His smile was rueful. “That’s right. I forgot—the chef thing.” He lightly stroked her cheek again, but this time the sultry, sexy, languorous element was missing from his touch. “Are you a chef twenty-four hours a day?”
“I try to be,” she said stoutly, pushing his hand away. “Aren’t you a prince twenty-four hours a day?”
He groaned. “I try not to be.”
“Yoo hoo.”
A female voice calling from somewhere in the maze startled them both. Sebastian sat up straight, then rose from the bench.
“Never mind,” he said, effectively dismissing Emma. “You don’t have to wait. Here’s Agatha. You can go.” He gave her a quick smile. “Released from your bonds.”
“Oh.”
She was relieved. At least she thought she was. Rising as well, she looked from one path to the other. “But what way do I go?”
He pointed out the route Trudy had taken. “The secret to the maze is a formula. Left, left, right. The pattern repeats over and over. Once you get it, you never forget it.”
That seemed simple enough.
“Well, goodbye.” She looked back at him, but he was already turning away.
“Goodbye,” he said over his shoulder, going in the opposite direction. “Thanks for your help.”
She took a few steps and glanced back. A beautiful auburn-haired woman in a long, gauzy dress who had come in from the other side was launching herself into Sebastian’s arms.
Turning back quickly, Emma hurried off, but not before she heard snatches of their greeting.
“Hello, darling,” Sebastian was saying. “I’ve missed you. It’s been too long.”
“Who’s that?” the young woman asked, obviously noticing Emma’s retreating form.
“What? Oh, nobody…”
Nobody.
Emma felt, for just a moment, as though she’d been stabbed in the heart.
CHAPTER SIX
NOBODY!
Well, it served Emma right for letting herself think, even for a fleeting moment, that a man like Sebastian might be interested in her. He was a prince, for heaven’s sake! Everyone knew what they were like. Even his aunt understood his ways and was trying to reform him in order to be presentable to a decent young woman. There was nothing to be gained in throwing your heart over the moon.
Nobody!
She had a quick flashback to the nights her own mother had stalked around the flat in a robe, waiting hours for the phone to ring, her eyes red and swollen. Emma had vowed at a very young age that she would never let a man put her in that position—that she would never, ever yearn after a man who didn’t really want her. And so far, she’d kept her word. This was no time to risk breaking her promise.
Yet, here she was, hobnobbing with royalty and tempting fate. Idiot that she’d proved to be.
Nobody!
Adrenaline surged every time she replayed that word in her head. But she was out of the maze. Left, left, right had worked.
And she was a wiser woman as well—and not one to fall for the sweet sham seduction of princes. So there.
Nobody. Hah. The man didn’t know what he was t
alking about.
Emma was on the phone with her cousin Louise later that evening when someone tapped on her door. Her heart jumped and she had a few seconds of anticipation before she realized what she was doing and quickly reined it in.
“Someone’s at my door,” she told her cousin.
“Better answer it,” Louise teased. “It might be the prince.”
Close as she was to her cousin, she hadn’t told her about the maze encounter. She was still too embarrassed knowing how easily she’d fallen into a swoon over the man. Louise didn’t know much beyond the original assault with the water-polo ball. But she did know Emma was interested in the background of the royal family. It had been the results of her research that she’d called to tell about.
Emma had finally located the castle library earlier that day. There were acres of books on Meridian history and she’d brought a stack of them back to her room. But when she’d tried to find newspaper articles about the death of the king, she hadn’t come across anything beyond the barest basic details. She’d found plenty of coverage of the king’s lingering illness and death, but no mention of poison, or even of suspicions. Still, there was something curious. A few days after the death and after the funeral, a few papers appeared to have had articles cut out and removed. Luckily, Louise had been able to fill in some of the gaps for her.
“None of the articles I found actually came right out and said poison was suspected,” she’d just been telling Emma. “They hinted around a lot, though. ‘Foul play’ not ruled out and such. And one article right after the funeral did mention an autopsy.”
So Sebastian’s charges weren’t totally without foundation. Which brought up new questions, of course, such as—who might have wanted the king to die?
Emma still had the phone with her as she opened the door and found Will Harris standing there.
“Oh, hello,” she said, thrown off guard. “It’s Dr Will,” she said mindlessly into the phone.
“Good evening, Emma,” he said in his low, masculine voice as she invited him in. “The prince sent me to check on your wounds from this afternoon in the maze.”
