by Raye Morgan
“But, Sebastian…” She leaned forward earnestly. “Yes, it will make drastic changes in your lifestyle. But that only underlines the fact that this is a very important job. You can’t trivialize it.”
She wished she could think of better words to help persuade him.
“The future of this country, whether it will grow and flourish, and the welfare of a couple of million people—is on your shoulders. Whatever you do, you can’t let them down.”
He stared at her, looking bemused. “Why do you care?”
She sat back again and looked away. “I don’t know. I just think you…well, you have such an opportunity here. You shouldn’t waste it.”
He smiled at her. “You may be right,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
She looked down at her hands in order to stay away from his gaze. Those golden eyes had rocked her world from the first, and they hadn’t lost their power with familiarity.
“I’d better get back,” she said, rising from the chair.
“Yes,” he said, rising as well.
She hesitated. She hated to leave. They had so few moments together. And there was something she wanted to know.
“Well, have you chosen a potential queen as yet?” she asked brightly, not sure she was allowed to broach this subject, but doing it anyway.
When he didn’t answer right away, she looked up into his eyes to see why. His smile had faded and his eyes darkened.
“What do you think?” he asked her softly.
Suddenly she noticed that his knuckles were white where he held the back of the chair and she had the fantastic thought that maybe he was having a hard time keeping himself from coming to take her in his arms. Her heart leaped, even though she knew that was too outlandish to be true. Still, she turned quickly.
“I’d better get back,” she said again.
“Yes,” he agreed. “You’d better go.”
At the doorway she turned and looked back at him. Was it just her imagination, or were his eyes haunted? Turning away, she left quickly. She didn’t want him to see the tears trembling in her own eyes.
CHAPTER TEN
EMMA was having trouble sleeping again. She’d almost forgotten how impossible sleep had been when she’d first arrived. That problem had vanished once Dr Will had taken her in hand. But now it was back.
And tonight was the worst. The heat was suffocating. Not even the tiniest breeze moved her white window curtains. After two hours of tossing and turning, she gave up.
“I thought these old castles with their high ceilings were built to be cool in the summer and snug in the winter,” she muttered resentfully. “Can we join the modern age now? Where’s the air-conditioning!”
Slipping into shorts and a light jersey top, she grabbed her robe and opened her door as quietly as she could, making her way out into the hall. She knew where she wanted to go: the only cool place she’d found in the building—the swimming pool.
She’d pretty much learned to find her way around the castle by now, and she headed straight for the pool. The door clanked a bit, making her shudder, but the cavernous area was dark and empty, just as she’d hoped it would be. No one was here. She could lie down on one of the benches and maybe, just maybe, she would sleep.
She sat at the side of the pool for a while first, dangling her feet in the cool water and trying to remember everything that had happened that first day when she’d known Sebastian as Monty and he’d stayed with her for so long. Memories were fuzzy. She’d spent a lot of that time only half awake. But the things she did remember made her smile.
She dampened down her shorts and top and went looking for a bench suitable for sleeping on. She found one tucked away in a corner, protected by an overhang. She was just settling down, using a pair of handy water wings for a pillow, when the door clanged open again. She froze. Someone was coming in. She held her breath.
A male form was walking toward the edge of the pool. He dove in without hesitation, but she could see it was Sebastian. He began to do laps, swimming back and forth, back and forth. She watched for a few minutes, impressed with him as she always was. He swam beautifully, his stroke elegant and graceful, but with explosive power—just like his beautiful, powerful body.
She bit her lip, wondering what to do. She had three choices. She could lie down and sleep in this hidden place and he would probably never know she was there. Or she could slink out quietly and he would probably never know she’d been there. Or she could be honest and straightforward and go down on the pool deck and let him know she was here. What to do? What to do?
But she was already doing it—no choice involved. Gathering her robe and her water wings, she made her way down to the side of the pool and spread out, lying down and listening to the rhythmic sound of his swimming. In mere moments, she was sound asleep.
“Oh, my God, not again.”
She opened her eyes to find him standing over her, dripping water and gazing in astonishment.
“I swear I didn’t even touch a water-polo ball,” he said.
She smiled and moved lazily. “And this time I was here first,” she noted. “You’re the one who came to join me.”
He had only a trace of a smile. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Looking for a cool place to sleep. This castle is like an oven. I recommend that the first thing you do after you put that crown on your head is to call up some workers and put air-conditioning in this place.”
He chuckled, then dropped down beside her on the deck, sitting cross-legged. “Seems like old times,” he said. “Haven’t we met this way before?”
“I seem to remember something like this. Long ago and far away.”
Reaching out, he took her hand in his and began to play with her fingers. She watched, loving the way his cool hand felt against her warm skin.
“How did you get to be such a good swimmer?” she asked lazily.
“There was a time when I was young that I used swimming to calm down. I felt like everything and everyone was against me and I would take out my frustrations in the water, hour after hour. Along the way, I got good at it.”
She frowned, looking at his handsome face. People so blessed with beauty and wealth and position were supposed to be happy ever after. “Why were you so frustrated?”
He thought for a moment, looking at her. “Julius was so good at everything,” he told her at last. “And everyone praised him all the time. I was the awkward one, the chunky one, the kid who didn’t quite fit in.”
She looked at him in disbelief. “You?”
His grin was lopsided. “Yes, Emma. I wasn’t always the magnificent specimen you see before you now.” He said it in a mocking, self-effacing way, but that didn’t really work when you looked as good as he did.
“Hard to believe,” she murmured.
If he really wanted to see someone who felt unloved and unappreciated, he should time-travel back to her childhood. But she frowned, chastising herself for thinking that. After all, everyone’s private hell was his own and couldn’t be compared to anyone else’s. To him, what he’d endured must have felt just as unbearable as her unhappiness had felt to her.
Without thinking, she reached out and stopped a large drop of water that was running down the tan skin of his thigh, catching it on her finger. She knew right away that she shouldn’t have done it, but, for some reason, she didn’t care.
“Your skin feels so cool,” she said softly, reaching for another drop that was slowly making its way down his chest.
She saw his stomach muscles contract and she looked up into his eyes. She wanted…something, she wasn’t even sure what. But she wanted it so badly, it hurt, and that made her fearless.
“Emma,” he said, a warning in his tone.
“Yes, Sebastian?” she whispered, reaching up to let her finger draw an invisible design on his chest—a heart with an arrow through it. His skin was smooth as butter.
He grabbed her hand, pulling it away and holding it. “You’r
e playing with fire, Emma,” he said. His voice was soft but his tone was hard as steel. “And fire can burn.”
“I’ve never been burned that way,” she whispered. “So I’m not scared.”
“Emma…”
She touched his cheek. “Yes?” she replied as her hand slid down across the cords of his neck, down to where she’d drawn the heart with the other hand, and then flattened, skimming across his skin.
His groan came from deep inside him and his eyes closed for a moment.
“Oh, Emma,” he said, his voice husky with quick desire. He gathered her close and she pressed against him, savoring the hard muscles, luxuriating in the feel of him. His mouth found hers and she opened to his kiss, gasping when his tongue took over, drinking him in as though she’d been dying of thirst.
His body was so wonderful, and, in the tiny Lycra swimsuit, she could pretty much see and feel everything there was to him, all the rounded strength, all the hard edges. She ran her hand across his flesh and felt him respond. It was a power that she’d never known before—a power she wanted to test out and make her own.
This was new. This was something special, a once-in-a-lifetime thing. The air was alive around them, as though fireworks were going off on all sides. A celebration. That was what it was. A celebration of how she felt for this prince.
Because she knew, suddenly, what she’d been hiding from for days. She was in love. This was a man she could never have for her own, but she could have him for the moment. And right now, she would take what she could get.
She’d never wanted a man this way before. It was as though she were possessed, as though the needs of her body had taken over and shut off her mind in order to get their way.
He pushed aside her jersey top and exposed her breasts, touching each nipple with a gentle reverence that astonished her. The more he touched her, the more she shuddered, the aching hunger coming so strong she almost cried out.
“Oh, please, Sebastian, tell me what to do,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair and arching her body against his as hard as she could.
Her words stopped him cold. Rearing back, he stared at her.
“You’re completely inexperienced, aren’t you?” he asked, incredulous.
She shook her head, wishing she could deny it. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do it right, but tell me…”
He stared at her for a moment, and then his laughter peeled out through the cavernous area and he hugged her close.
“No, my precious Emma,” he murmured, rubbing his face against hers. “We have to stop now.”
“But…no, really, I want to…”
“Emma, Emma, you’re priceless.” He dropped quick kisses on her lips. “You’re like a fresh-picked bud about to blossom into glory. I can’t sully that.”
“But…Sebastian, please…”
He cupped her cheek with his large hand. “I know what you want. I know exactly what you feel. I want it too. But it wouldn’t be right. Not like this.”
She lay back in his arms and blinked back tears. She was so happy and so sad at the same time. They weren’t going to make love tonight. That meant they were never going to make love. Because as soon as morning came, they would go back to being the prince and the chef. And those two didn’t mix.
“Why did you pick tonight to be such a gentleman?” she complained softly.
“Emma, I want you—probably more than I’ve ever wanted a woman before. But I care for you even more than that. And I’d rather protect you than use you.”
She wanted to argue, but the intensity of her desire was fading now, and she knew it wasn’t any use, anyway. So she stayed in his arms, curled into his embrace, because there was no place she would rather be.
She was making her way back through the darkened hallways to her bedroom an hour later. It was long past midnight. The entire castle seemed to be asleep and there wasn’t a soul around. So she was surprised when the door to the second-floor library opened and Aunt Trudy stepped out directly in her path.
“Oh!” she cried, jumping half a foot into the air.
“Oh, sorry, dear. I didn’t hear you coming.” Trudy smiled at her. “Can’t sleep? Oh, you must come with me. I have exactly the remedy for that.”
Emma was glad the hall was too dark and gloomy for Trudy to see her flushed face. If she only knew what Emma had been doing with Sebastian for the last two hours, surely she wouldn’t be looking so friendly.
“Come along, come along. Believe me, you’ll be glad you met up with me tonight.”
She led Emma back into the library. There on a large mahogany table in the center of the room was a tray with an old-fashioned-looking decanter of wine and three crystal wineglasses.
“Now you sit right down. I’m going to pour you a glass of cornberry wine. It’s a traditional Meridian drink and I think you’ll love it.”
“Oh, good,” Emma said, brightening. “I’ve been wanting to try it.”
Trudy poured out two glasses and they toasted one another before beginning to sip.
“Wow,” Emma said, gasping. “That’s got a kick all right.”
“Yes, it does, though one gets used to it quickly. Do you like it?”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to try a little more of it before I can make my decision.”
Trudy nodded. “You just take your time. It’s the best remedy for sleeplessness I’ve ever found.”
Emma took another sip, more carefully this time. “Is this what you take when you can’t sleep?”
“Oh, dear, no, I don’t have problems with sleep. I only sleep about four hours a night. It’s been that way for years. And I get some of my best work done after midnight when there’s no one around to bother me.”
Emma knew that Sebastian’s aunt was working on an official genealogy of the extended royal family. “I’d love to see what you’ve done,” she said.
Trudy pursed her lips. “And you will, my dear, when I have it in condition to be seen by others. But that won’t be for some time yet.”
Emma emptied her glass, choking a bit but appreciative. “It’s good,” she said, gathering her things and preparing to take her leave. “So you think this will help me sleep?”
“Oh, definitely.” She rose along with Emma, escorting her to the door. “I’ll tell you a little secret. I used to give it to the king, Sebastian’s father. Poor thing, once the queen died, he had horrible insomnia. I would give him a glass of cornberry wine and he would go back to his room and sleep like a baby.”
Emma’s ears were ringing from the strength of the drink, making her a little fuzzy, but she frowned, thinking there was something here that reminded her of something she ought to be paying attention to.
Cornberry wine. What had Tina Marie said about it? That they made it out of eikenberries now, because too many people were allergic to something in cornberries.
“Is this made out of real cornberries?” she asked Trudy.
“Oh, yes. I distill it myself at our estate in the south country. I know the wineries all use eikenberries now, but I stick with traditions.”
Emma hesitated in the doorway. “Tell me, I’m curious. How often did the king have trouble sleeping?”
“Oh, all the time. I didn’t really know until the one-year anniversary of the queen’s death. I found him in here, sobbing like a baby. It was such a surprise, you know, because he was always so strong and gruff. But I gave him a glass of my cornberry wine that night, and it soothed him so. Not long after, he began coming more often. Toward the end, when he was failing so badly, he came almost every night. I was so glad I was able to give him something that relieved his misery a bit.”
Emma swayed, overwhelmed by what this portended. “Well,” she said, her voice cracking. “Well, that’s interesting. I…it never upset his stomach at all?”
“Oh, no. It’s quite soothing.”
“But I’ve heard some people can’t tolerate it.”
“That’s right. I’ve hea
rd that, too. I think that’s why the national wineries started substituting other berries. But I’ve never had any problem with it.”
“I see.” Emma swallowed hard, not sure what to do. “I guess I’d better be going now. Goodnight. And…and thank you for the wine.”
Her first impulse was to run to Sebastian’s room with this news, if only she knew where that was. But very quickly she realized she probably shouldn’t do that. Not yet. She needed to think this over. There were so many possibilities, so many ramifications. Better to go over them all before bringing this up to anyone else. After all, if this was actually what had poisoned the king, did that make Aunt Trudy a murderer? And if so, did she really want anyone else to know?
The funny thing was, when Emma got back to her room, she fell into her bed and slept like a log until morning. The cornberry wine lived up to its reputation. But that still left her with the same old dilemma. Was she going to tell Sebastian about what she suspected? The facts looked the same in the morning light as they had in the dark of night. All this cornberry-wine drinking might have had nothing to do with anything. It might all just be the work of coincidence. And she might be stirring a bee’s nest of consequences she wouldn’t like in the end. Maybe she ought to just keep quiet about the whole thing.
But how could she? Didn’t she have to tell Sebastian? She still couldn’t seem to sort it all out. She decided to wait and not do anything until she had a clear vision on this.
She helped prepare breakfast, although Chef Henri was back, and when the prince came through the kitchen she avoided his gaze, even though she knew he would think she was embarrassed about their meeting at the swimming pool. That wasn’t it at all. She was feeling guilty about having information he would be interested in and not giving it to him. What was she going to do?
Louise called her at noon and she was able to tell her plans were well under way to prepare a room for her. The housekeeper had been willing, and the head maid had agreed to freshen a room very near Emma’s. Louise was excited by the prospect.
