by Raye Morgan
“And exactly who am I supposedly hiding from?” she asked.
“The media.” There was no hint of humor in his voice now. A quiet bitterness had taken its place. “They’re like leeches. Once they get you in their sights, you’re done for. They can make life hell on earth if you let them.”
She stared at him, wondering if a few little sarcastic articles were all that had happened to make him so hostile to the press. But before she could ask, he started up the engine and pulled back out onto the highway.
“Listen, would you like to see some of Meridian life?”
“Why, yes, but—”
“Come on. We’ll swing by the markets and you can get a flavor of what’s available. Then I’ll introduce you to my old nanny.”
“Your nanny lives here in town?”
“Yes. She didn’t want to stay at the castle any more than I did.”
“It…sounds like fun.”
She was smiling, but, deep down, she knew she was crazy to let him sweep her away like this. She was surely going to regret it.
The two of them wandered through the outdoor markets in their dark glasses. It was a little too warm for trench coats once the clouds disappeared over the horizon and the sun took over. No one paid any attention to either one of them as they made their way through the crowds. There were children playing hoop games and boys kicking a soccer ball back and forth and dogs waiting patiently for bits of scrap food to be thrown their way and babies in carriages and sellers shouting out sudden discounts or fabulous new qualities discovered in their wares. Emma was charmed by it all.
“This place has the quality that history reproductions strive for and never quite achieve,” she noted. “It’s old, unique, colorful and authentic.”
Weaving their way between tanks of live lobster and other seafood, they stopped before a huge fish tank filled with large silver-blue fish with faces like bulldogs who swam lazily from one side to the other.
“What is this?” Emma asked, struck by the strangeness.
“This is the unicomus, our national fish,” Sebastian told her. “They only live in Lake Chadae and are found nowhere else.”
“Impressive,” Emma said, thinking from the culinary perspective. Fish was a specialty of hers.
“Come see the truffle display,” he said, drawing her away. “We are known for our outstanding truffles. Our one claim to international fame.”
“Ooh, truffles!”
She could think of lots of uses for the magnificent specimens he showed her. In fact, the markets were a gold mine of produce of all kinds, making her imagination run wild with ideas for the coronation dinner.
They strolled down toward the lake. A walkway hugged the edge of the water and Sebastian led her out along it, telling her of boyhood adventures as they went. A cluster of young boys playing soccer sent a ball shooting their way and suddenly the prince was an athlete again, using a few slick moves to send the ball back over their heads and right into the goal.
“Bravo!” a few of them cried, applauding the effort.
He took a bow and laughed, returning to Emma with a look on his face that told her his usual ironic reserve had been obliterated for the time being. But he was rubbing the area where the scar was and she remembered what Will had told her the night before. Now she knew that it was his sister whose honor he’d defended.
“Come on down to the marina,” he said, catching her hand in his. “I’ll show you where I first learned to sail.”
It was only a few steps away. The blue tarps, white sails and colorful flags flying gave the area a festive air. There were people fishing off an old wooden pier, and a group of young men gathering around a number of sailboats docked along the marina. Sebastian knew some of them and went over to speak to them, but Emma stayed behind, leaning on the railing and enjoying the sunlight on the water.
Or trying to enjoy it. She hadn’t been there long when a pair of teenagers sidled up next to her and began talking in tones obviously meant for her to hear.
“Yeah, that’s Prince Sebastian all right. I’d know him anywhere,” said one. “I guess he’s going to be king.”
“They say he killed his brother to get him out of the way, you know,” the other replied, glancing at Emma and then pulling his cap down over his eyes.
Shocked, she had to put in her two cents.
“Prince Julius isn’t dead,” she told them sternly. “He fell in love with…someone…and abdicated the throne.”
“Oh, yeah?” said the first boy. “Have you seen him?”
She hesitated. “Well, no, but…”
The boy shrugged. “No one here has, either.”
“But he’s alive,” she insisted indignantly.
The boy shrugged again. “There’s some who won’t believe that until they see it with their own eyes,” he said as he and his companion began to drift off.
Taking a deep breath, Emma tried to calm herself. They were just silly boys, after all. She shouldn’t take what they said seriously. But she was afraid such rumors were only the tip of the iceberg here in Meridia, just a sample of what Sebastian was going to have to deal with.
He was back a moment later, looking happier than ever. “They’re training hard and hoping to qualify for the next Olympics,” he told her enthusiastically. “I told them I might be able to help with the design of a new hull they’re working on. I’ve got some great ideas.”
“You design sailboats?” she asked in surprise.
“Sure. You didn’t think I spent all my time on the water working on my tan, did you?”
No, she had never thought that. Partying was a factor that had come to mind. It was a relief to know that wasn’t all he’d been living for.
They made their way back to the marketplace. Suddenly, Sebastian seized her hand and leaned close. “I think I’ve been identified,” he murmured, nodding toward where a small group of young women were gathering, looking excited and whispering to one another as they trained their attention on him. “We’ll have to make a run for it.”
“You lead the way,” she said, suppressing a smile.
They started off slowly, weaving in and out of stalls, but, looking back, it was obvious they were being followed. Sebastian made a sudden turn and they found themselves in a dark alley.
“Run,” Sebastian urged, holding her hand.
They ran, turning down another alley, and then another, until they were both laughing and gasping for air and Emma found herself in Sebastian’s arms.
She pulled away quickly, but not before taking in enough of his long, hard form to memorize it for life. That was going to sustain her on some long, lonely nights.
“Did we lose them?” she said breathlessly.
“I think so.” Turning his head, he listened intently. “Yes.” Looking back down at her, he smiled.
She smiled back. A warm, thrilling sense of connection sprang between them.
And then it was gone as Sebastian deliberately turned away.
“Let’s see,” he said in a casual way that let her know he’d sensed the same thing she had and that he was disturbed by it too. “I think it’s only a couple of blocks to my old nanny’s house. Ready?”
She nodded. He’d turned the day into an adventure she couldn’t resist.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SEBASTIAN’S nanny was large and loving and ready to claim Emma as her own right from the start. Her name was Tina Marie and she ran a small café in the front section of her house. In the back, she had cookbooks and exotic spices and special kitchen gadgets that could have kept Emma enthralled for days.
Instead, she just got a quick hour to browse through all the treasures while Tina Marie and Sebastian caught up on their news.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen this one,” the effusive woman kept repeating, surging back to give her grown-up charge another kiss on the cheek where he sat at her big kitchen table, drinking the thick, sweet coffee she’d served him. “You’re too thin. Here, have a cherry tart. H
ave another bonbon.”
“No, thanks,” Sebastian said, pushing the food away. “I’m saving room for lunch.”
“You haven’t had lunch? I’ll fix you some.”
“No, no—”
“I know! I’ll fix you a picnic basket. You must take your beautiful lady up to the watch meadow and show her the view.” She hugged Emma, who was feeling so adored, she didn’t even protest about being called beautiful. “Then you can eat your lunch there. It will be wonderful!”
She went through the kitchen like a whirlwind, grabbing supplies, cutting slices of bread into interesting shapes, mixing ingredients, and talking all the while.
At one point, Emma asked her how she came to be Sebastian’s nanny.
“I was just a girl when I was hired as Queen Marguerite’s private attendant. She was a new bride from Italy—didn’t know a word of any other language but her own. And Sebastian’s father, the king, though he knew Italian very well, refused to speak it to her. Thought it best to force her into quick immersion into Meridian.” She shook her head, her eyes on the distant memories. “She was so lonely, poor thing. Scared to death, so worried that she would make mistakes. Every morning I would find her pillow wet from her tears.”
Emma glanced at Sebastian. His face was impassive, his eyes unreadable, but she felt his anger over his mother’s misery. Was that at least a partial clue as to why he often seemed to have a simmering bitterness deep in his soul?
She turned back to Tina Marie. “Did you help her?” she asked.
“I did the best I could, but I was a servant. In those days, that made quite a gulf, you know.” She sighed. “But I loved her right from the beginning. She was a wonderful lady. So beautiful. She died much too young.”
In those days, that made quite a gulf… The words lingered in Emma’s mind. Things hadn’t changed as much as Tina Marie might think.
She asked about local customs she might want to incorporate into the menu for the coronation and was immediately inundated with cookbooks and lists of secret ingredients.
“You’ve heard about our truffles, of course. World famous. People come from everywhere to buy them.”
“Oh, yes. I already have plans for truffles.”
“Then you must include our small sweet breakfast breads, called eirhorns. And our famous eikenberry jam.”
“Don’t forget cornberry wine,” Sebastian interspersed.
“Oh, yes,” Tina Marie cried. “The best sweet wine ever. Not made with real cornberries, of course. These days we use eikenberries. Too many people are allergic to the real thing.”
“Too bad,” Sebastian said. “I hate when traditions go by the board that way. Cornberries make a very potent brew,” Sebastian went on, waxing euphoric about the past again. “At its best, it’s got a kick like moonshine. When we were teenagers—”
“When you were teenagers, you did a lot of things that would be better left to fade into the mists of time,” Tina Marie said sharply.
Sebastian grinned, leaning back in his chair. Watching him, Emma thought she’d never seen him look so relaxed.
“So what do you think about Julius?” he was asking his nanny. “Were you shocked?”
Tina Marie waved a dismissive hand. “Not in the least. You know very well I used to tell you he couldn’t hold a candle to you in any way, if you would only make an effort.”
“Ah, there’s the rub. Is the effort worth the prize?”
Tina Marie came to a standstill for the first time since they’d arrived. She stared at Sebastian for a long, silent moment. Finally, she asked, “Are you going to do it?”
He stared right back and didn’t say a word.
“Your coronation is in two weeks.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Will you be here for it?”
His smile was strangely bittersweet. “Ah, Tina Marie, you know me so well.”
“Indeed I do, but the question still stands.”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly.
Drawing in a deep breath, she began to bustle again, packing the provisions away in a picnic basket.
“You know you were meant for the throne,” she said. “I used to tell you—”
“That was then, Tina Marie. This is now. Things change.”
She glared at him over her shoulder. “Responsibilities stay the same.”
“For responsible people. That’s something I’ve worked hard to guard against being.”
She shook a spoon at him. “And in doing so, you only proved the opposite.”
But she was soon kissing his cheeks again. As they left with their heavy picnic basket in tow she hugged Emma and whispered in her ear, “I can see that you care for him. Please, watch his back. That is where the knives usually find their mark.”
Sebastian leaned back and watched Emma pulling things out of the picnic basket, tasting and exclaiming over one thing after another. He was only half listening. Looking out over the cliff at the lake and the town below, he felt a swelling in his heart that was almost painful.
Despite everything, he loved this place. How could he not? The rivers ran like the blood in his body, its soil was his flesh. He could stay away for years, he could never come back again, and it still would be a part of him—a part of his heart, a part of his life, the core of who he was.
But could he stay here? Could he be a ruler? That was another question, one he hadn’t even answered for himself as yet.
Did he want to? That he could answer, and the answer was no. But Tina Marie was right. It was his duty to stay and take care of his country and its people. But it had been Julius’ duty before him.
Emma was setting arrangements of the food Tina Marie had packed out on the blanket and he pushed his gloomy thoughts into the back of his mind while they ate. Emma was a comfortable companion for this sort of thing. He was used to women who constantly gave out the sense that they needed to be entertained. Emma wanted to talk—and actually listened to what he had to say and thought before she answered.
She was good to look at, too, from her mop of wild curls to her huge blue eyes. He liked her face, liked the way she looked as though she should have freckles scattered across her nose, liked the way her pink lips seemed to turn up at the corners. Her toes were painted pink too, a particularly happy shade of pink. The women he was used to tended to favor dark red or something more exotic and trendy, like savage blue or neon green. Pink—a color for children and stuffed animals.
That almost made him smile, so he frowned fiercely, heading the impulse off at the pass. It was little things like that that caught you up in emotional nets you didn’t want to get trapped in.
They finished the food and were leaning back on the blanket, enjoying the beautiful panoramic view. He’d managed to engineer things so that his head ended up in her lap and, after a short hesitation, she began to comb her fingers through his thick hair.
Heaven, he decided, must be a lot like this.
“Tina Marie is worried about you,” she said after a few minutes of silence.
“No need to be,” he muttered sleepily.
“Are you angry with your brother for putting you in this position?” she asked him.
He grunted. “‘Angry’ doesn’t do it justice. I’m damn mad at him. Here I had this lovely life laid out before me, no responsibilities to speak of, except for the duty to be happy most of the time and stay out of any major scandal. And then Julius flips out.” He sighed. “I still can’t believe he gave it all up…”
“For love.”
“I guess that’s right.”
He sounded cynical and she looked down at him.
“Don’t you believe in love?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
She stared at him as though no one had ever asked her that before.
“You know, I’m not really sure,” she said slowly. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”
He chuckled. “Well, wherever Julius is today, I hope he’s miserable,” he sa
id. “Just think of it. If it hadn’t been for him, I could be in the Caribbean right now. Why couldn’t I be king of a nice tropical island in the Caribbean?”
She laughed softly, enjoying the picture that concept conjured up. “Who knows? Maybe you can trade with one of the island’s leaders. Put an ad in the paper.”
“Right.” He sighed. “It’s going to be hard adjusting to living here after the lifestyle I’m used to.”
She made a face. “Maybe we can bring in a beauty queen or two to keep you amused,” she said, a bit of acid spicing her tone.
“Oh, you’re going to start stocking them, are you? Like flour and sugar? What a good idea. I may start liking it here again after all.”
She gave him a playful rub on the head and he laughed. Reaching up, he touched her cheek, then gazed at her for a moment.
“Tell me, Emma. Why don’t you wear makeup?”
He thought she might take offense, but she didn’t. Looking down, she answered him honestly.
“Makeup is a mask. An artifice to hide behind. I’d rather people deal with the real me.” She bit her lip, wondering if he was going to buy that.
She knew her sister Rachel wouldn’t. That’s a bunch of malarkey, she would probably say. You’re just afraid to try to attract men.
And she was afraid—that Rachel might have a point.
“The real you,” he was repeating with a touch of mockery in his tone. He frowned, thinking about what she’d said for a moment. “I don’t look at makeup that way,” he said at last. “It seems to me it’s a way to point out your best features. Makeup says, ‘Hey, look at this. I’ve got eyes, and they’re pretty damn good ones.’”
She laughed softly. He and Rachel would probably get along, if they ever met. “If you think it’s so great, why don’t you wear it?”
“Oh, I have.”
“What?”
He laughed. “Emma, you’re so easy to shock.”
“I’m not.” She went back to running her fingers through his hair and trying not to spend too much time staring down at the way his thick, gorgeous eyelashes shadowed his eyes. “So you think I’d look better with makeup?”
