by Raye Morgan
Emma hesitated. She had no faith in this at all, but she hated to disappoint her cousin. “All right,” she said at last. “You have exactly fifteen minutes.”
“Then what’s going to happen?”
“I’m going to bed. I’ve been working all day. I’m tired.”
The two young women exchanged glances again.
“Okay, okay, fifteen minutes,” Louise said. “Just give me room.”
She worked quickly, not wasting any time on chitchat. And when the fifteen minutes were up, she stood back and let Agatha work a little more magic with the hairstyle.
“Now take a look.”
Emma had little hope this time, but she was surprised by what she saw. She looked harder at her face in the mirror. A little light blush, a bit of eyeliner, some mascara and eye shadow, a touch of pink lipstick, a cuter-than-heck hairstyle, and she was a different woman.
“Wow. Is that really me? I like this. This looks good.” She fluffed her hair a little. “I look…pretty.” She looked at the other two in wonder.
Agatha gave a gurgling laugh. “You’ve always been pretty. Now you look pulled together. Like you’re a grown-up woman and know what you’re doing.”
“Right,” Louise said. “Now for the clothes.”
Emma bit her tongue and held back what she really wanted to say. They were so excited about this, and they’d done such good work, she decided to let them have their way—no matter how annoying that was. They tried a couple of Louise’s outfits that didn’t quite do it, then a long, slinky silk dress from Agatha’s closet, and that was the one they all agreed fitted the bill.
“You look spectacular,” Louise said, her eyes shining, and no one disagreed.
The dress was cut low, showing off more cleavage than Emma had known she had, and fitted her form to perfection. The pastel rainbow colors of the fabric seemed to change in the lamplight as she moved.
“Let’s go take pictures.”
Emma had forgotten that she’d promised to go down to the room especially set up for picture-taking on the first floor.
“Do we really have to do this?”
“You know, Emma,” Louise said, “it would really be a help to me if you would let me take some pictures. I’m casting about on what I’m going to do with my life and it has occurred to me that I might change careers and go into business doing personal makeovers for a living.”
“What?” That was the first she’d heard of this new scheme.
“You don’t think I did a nice job on you?”
Louise looked innocent as a newborn babe but Emma sensed something fishy going on.
“I didn’t say that. I think you did a wonderful job on me. I love what you did—the second time, anyway.”
“Well, so do I. So let’s go downstairs. I just want to take some pictures in case I start working up a portfolio.”
Emma sighed. “Okay. But I’m not going anywhere near the ballroom.”
“The ballroom?” Louise repeated, her eyes huge and guileless. “Oh, the ballroom.”
“You don’t want to just slip by the ballroom and take a little peek?” Agatha asked wistfully.
“No,” Emma said firmly. “I am not going anywhere near that ballroom.”
They took the elevator down, laughing like teenagers, and made their way to the picture room. They spent the next half-hour taking pictures of each other. The music from the ballroom was a constant backdrop.
“Just one more of Emma,” Agatha said at last. “I want a formal pose, so stand over here with your back to these double doors. They’ll really frame you nicely.”
Emma did as she was asked and Louise started telling a story that was making her laugh so hard she didn’t notice at first that, instead of taking a picture, Agatha had left the room.
“Just stand where you are,” Louise said when Agatha’s absence came up. “She’s about to take a picture.”
“I’m beginning to feel like I’m getting my teeth X-rayed,” Emma grumbled. “Isn’t that when they usually leave the room?”
A sound from behind made her turn. The double doors were swinging open and there was Agatha. But Agatha quickly stepped out of the way and then…then there was Prince Sebastian.
She stared at him. He stared at her. His gaze was so full of affection and admiration, she couldn’t look away. It was intoxicating and her head was feeling as though it had just been filled with champagne bubbles.
She didn’t know where to turn. The double doors had opened onto a short hallway that led right into the ballroom, and most of the guests were looking in at her. She wanted to run, and yet she couldn’t. He was there. She could never run from him.
“Emma, Emma,” he said softly, his eyes glowing in the lamplight. “You look more beautiful than ever.”
Because he’d said it, because his eyes said it, she believed it. For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, holding out his arm.
She walked toward him as though compelled to. He led her into the ballroom and as his arms came around her he whispered in her ear, “It’s the last dance.”
She gasped. She knew what that meant, but…
“Can you do a Viennese Waltz?” he asked as the music started.
“I’ve never done one,” she said.
“You’re going to do one now. Just relax and let me lead you.”
The music grew, swelling to fill the room, and they began to whirl around and around. She was nervous at first, not sure she could keep up, but his strong arms kept her going and soon the steps were automatic.
And that was when what was merely amusing became magic. They were floating in the stars, turned and swirling, held up by the wonderful Strauss music. She’d never experienced anything like it, and when the music slowed she clung to Sebastian, wishing it could start up all over again.
Sebastian signaled the orchestra leader and the music didn’t stop after all. Instead, they began to play “It Had To Be You” and Sebastian looked down into her eyes as they began to sway together. Then he pulled her closer and began to sing softly along with the orchestra, into her ear.
She closed her eyes. This had to be a dream.
But all good things had to end at last, and the music finally stopped. They stopped as well, but he still held her. She tilted her head up to look at him, and he leaned down and kissed her on her lips.
And then he turned back to the others.
But Emma was still in the dream.
“Hey, it’s after midnight, Cinderella,” Agatha whispered, tugging on her arm. “This way to your pumpkin.”
She let Agatha lead her but she was floating. Sebastian’s arms were still around her and…
“Come on,” Louise told the other two happily. “I snagged some stuff from the dessert buffet. Let’s go up and have a feast.”
Emma looked at her blankly. She still had his voice in her ear, still had his wonderful scent in her head, still felt his breath on her cheek. She wanted to close her eyes and hold all those things close for ever.
Louise frowned. “Are you okay? Do you hate us?”
It took her a moment to understand what Louise had said. She shook her head. “Why would I hate you?” she asked, then slowly she began to sink back to earth. “Oh, you mean because you two tricked me into dancing with Sebastian? I could never hate you for that.”
But she sighed as they made their way back to the room. He’d danced the last dance with her, but it didn’t mean a thing. She knew better than to expect anything to come of it. Still, she would have that memory for the rest of her life.
Seeing her face, Louise gave her a hug.
“Things will work out for the best,” she said sympathetically. “Generally, they do in the end.”
The next morning started out with a jolt. Louise came bursting into her room before she’d come fully awake, thrilled by a call from the adoption registry.
“This is so exciting. They’ve found my birth mother, and
guess what? I’ve got a sister in Australia. Her name is Jodie Simpson. Can you believe it? A whole new family to deal with.”
Emma blinked sleepily and tried not to yawn. “I wish you luck. But don’t forget your old family. We love you, too.”
“I know that.” Louise hugged her. “You’ve been so good to me. Thanks for letting me come here to lick my wounds and heal a little.”
“Louise, call your parents. Please? You know they’re heartbroken right now.”
Louise squeezed her hand but didn’t respond. Instead she prattled on about Australia. “I’m going to have to go back to the UK right away. They want me to see some documents.”
“All right. I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.”
As she flitted back out again Emma wondered how long it would be before she saw her cousin again. Somehow all her relationships seemed to be in a strange state of flux these days.
A bit later she headed down to the kitchen, full of trepidation. She knew something bad was bound to happen. And sure enough, the first thing she saw was the local paper scattered across the kitchen table. This time the headline read, PRINCE COMPLIMENTS CHEF—AGAIN! And there was a picture of Emma floating in Sebastian’s arms in the ballroom.
She hated that the picture was there for everyone to see. She hated that anyone had seen the two of them at the time. She hated everything that tried to make the way she felt about the prince seem cheap and tawdry. If only he weren’t a prince and they were all alone in some strange city where neither of them knew anyone else…But there wasn’t much point in dreaming things like that. Reality might not be so pretty but it was here to stay.
There was yelling in the breakfast room again. She thought she knew what the problem was. Though she hadn’t noticed it at the time—actually, she hadn’t noticed anything but Sebastian at the time—she now realized that the faces around the ballroom watching them hadn’t been happy ones. No one had been pleased that she’d been the prince’s choice for the last dance. She debated going into the breakfast room and confronting them all, but thought better of it.
A few moments later, Sebastian emerged looking somewhat annoyed.
Her heart lurched and memories of the night before swept over her so strongly, she had to put out a hand to steady herself. And then she realized he was coming straight toward her.
“Good morning,” he said, smiling at her right in front of everyone in the kitchen. “I need to talk to you. Let’s go to the library.”
“But…” She looked back at the breakfast room.
“Let them yell themselves hoarse. I’m not going to change my mind.”
She looked at him speculatively. He looked a little angry over the criticism from his ministers, but, on the whole, rather pleased with himself.
“What are they angry about?” she asked, walking along beside him. “Because you danced with me last night?”
“That’s only part of it. They’re also going hysterical because I told them I had a new condition that had to be met before I would agree to take the crown.”
They stopped in front of the library and he took her hands, smiling down at her.
“What is your new condition?” Emma asked, suddenly dreading what he was going to say. “Unless it’s none of my business.”
“It’s very much your business.” He touched her cheek. “I told them I would only stay if you agreed to marry me and stay as well.”
Her world tilted on its axis. She had to reach a hand out against the wall to steady herself again.
“What?”
“You’re the one who reminded me that I had the upper hand in these negotiations. And I decided to use my advantage.” He stood holding her hands, looking proud of himself.
“I see.” Though she didn’t. She was still stunned and unsure what all this meant.
“So what do you think?” He raised an eyebrow and looked so darn sure of himself. “Are you going to like being queen?”
Her mind was like a lost rowboat in a stormy sea. She was only vaguely clear on what he’d done. But she did know she didn’t like the way he was doing this.
Did he really want her to marry him? Or had he merely used that threat as a weapon in a fight with his ministers? It was a little hard to tell which it might be.
“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.
“It’s simple. They wanted you gone. I said, no, in fact, you would be here for a very long time and you would be here as my wife. A couple of them went hysterical, claiming they would never stand for it. I told them I was out of here unless they okayed our marriage. And there you have it.”
He obviously thought she should be shouting with joy. Here he’d faced them all in her name. But this reminded her more of their first clash, when he’d commandeered her to sew on his braid. He seemed to think he could just run right over people and always get his way. Well, he had another think coming.
“You know, Sebastian, you might have spoken to me about it before you told the world.”
His brows drew together and his eyes darkened. “What are you saying? That you don’t want to marry me?”
What she really wanted was to throttle him.
“No,” she said aloud, speaking precisely, “as a matter of fact, I don’t.”
He looked incredulous, but there was no more time to talk. A couple of the men he’d been arguing with had found them and seemed ready to continue the fight.
“Look, you’d better think it over,” he said, effectively dismissing her in order to rejoin them. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He turned toward the men and she got away as quickly as she could. Her heart was beating so hard, she was afraid she might have a heart attack. Extreme emotions cascaded through her in a jumble that was hard to untangle—elation, anger, pride, resentment, bitterness, disappointment. They were all there. But they weren’t pleasant.
“Hello there, pretty lady.”
She whirled, only to find Sebastian’s cousin had followed her out.
“Oh, Romas.”
“Don’t start backing away from me. I’m not going to hit on you this time. Sebastian has staked you out as his and that’s good enough for me. My only question is, is it good enough for you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know very well that our boy, Sebastian, has been a major player all his life. How do you know you’re not just his latest whim?”
She stared at him, wishing she had a good response, but the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach was all she had. She turned away and left him.
“Have a nice day,” he called after her, chuckling.
She shook her head.
But Romas was the least of her problems. She was so angry with Sebastian. He was being so high-handed and making vast assumptions. He seemed to take for granted that she wanted exactly what he wanted. How had he got that idea?
And did he really think she was going to drop her career, just like that? Did all the goals she had met, all the honors she’d received, mean so little in his eyes? Maybe he didn’t understand how focussed she’d been on her career, how she’d pushed aside all the fun and crazy things most people did in their twenties to concentrate on constant work in order to get good enough to reach the top levels. And now she was supposed to throw all that away and become…what? A sort of royal hostess person?
And, worst of all, nowhere had she heard the words, I love you.
An hour later, she was in a castle car being driven by Pacio, the footman. She was going back to London, at least for a day or two. She had to get away to someplace where she could think without Sebastian around to distract her. She needed distance. She needed to do something to stop her head from spinning like a top.
“Where are we going?” she said, leaning forward and looking out the window. “This doesn’t look like the way to the airport.”
“Tina Marie wants to see you,” Pacio replied. “She heard you were leaving and she asked me to take you by.”
&nbs
p; “I’ve got a plane to catch.”
“We’ll make it. You’ve got plenty of time.”
Her mind was racing with the things Sebastian had said and she didn’t really have room for worrying about why Tina Marie might want to see her, so she didn’t ask any more questions.
A few minutes later, she was climbing the stairs to Tina Marie’s place. The older woman greeted her like a long-lost child. She made her come in and sit down and have some sweet, thick coffee, chattering all the while. Then she brought out a scrapbook and a stack of papers.
“I’ve been looking for this for a week and I’ve finally found it. I asked Pacio to bring you here because I want to show this to you.”
“What is that?”
“An old scrapbook I used to keep when I was working at the castle. I kept newspaper clippings in here. And I wanted you to see this one.”
She pulled out a clipping turned dark brown with age. “I know how terrible you felt when you served the unicomus at dinner the other night.”
Emma groaned. “Oh, don’t remind me. That was the worst night of my life.”
“I know. You thought you had let everyone down, especially Prince Sebastian. But you know what? It’s happened before. Look.”
She held out the clipping. Emma squinted at it, trying without much success to make out the picture on the darkened paper.
“Oh, it’s a fish on a platter. A unicomus?” She looked at Tina Marie, who was nodding.
“See the headline?”
Emma read it out loud. “QUEEN IN FISH FAUX PAS”.
“You see? Queen Marguerite made the same mistake you did. She was from Italy and thought the unicomus a delicacy, so she ordered her cook to prepare it for a special dinner. The kitchen staff at that time didn’t help her out any more than yours did.”
“Oh, poor thing. Was she crushed?”
“She wept for two days, and the king didn’t help matters, going around like a grouchy bear the whole time.” Tina Marie shook her head, remembering. “But you know? In the end it was for the best, because the queen came to a turning point. Two days of weeping, and then she began to realize, it was just a silly fish, after all. Why was everyone making such a big deal out of a silly mistake about a fish?”
