by Raye Morgan
And neither did she. Every other man she’d ever kissed had been a wary exercise in testing waters that she hadn’t found very warm, nor very tempting. This was so different. She felt as though she’d reached for a ripe fruit and had fallen over a cliff just as she grabbed it. It was a fall that had her spiraling from one level of delicious sensation to the next. She never wanted to reach the bottom of that canyon. She wanted to fall forever, as long as she was in David’s arms.
She stretched. She reached for him—she was begging for more. His embrace was such a comfort to her, such a warm, safe place to be. She sank into the kiss as though she’d finally found a place where she really belonged.
But not for long. He pulled back, cursing himself silently for being such an idiot. This was exactly what he’d been warning himself against. He couldn’t do this. It was stupid, but most of all it wasn’t fair to her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, hair falling over his eyes as he looked down at her. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Shh,” she said, eyes wide. “He’s coming.”
They listened, quiet as mice, while the man called out his goodbyes and started to sing as he came toward the wagon.
Ayme gasped. “David, he’s drunk!”
“Nah.”
“Yes, he is,” she whispered near his ear. “Listen to him.”
“He’s not drunk-drunk. Just a little tipsy. He’s had his evening Bols and he’s floating a bit. That’s all.”
The farmer climbed up into the driver’s seat and called the horse to attention, and they started off. The wagon creaked loudly. The horses hooves clanged against the pavement. And the farmer sang at the top of his lungs.
“He’s definitely had too much to drink!” Ayme hissed at David.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, he has. But it’s okay. This isn’t like a car. The horse knows the way. He’ll take over.”
“The horse!” She shook her head at the concept.
“You can always count on the horse. Out here in the country, you can fall asleep at the wheel…or the reins, I guess it is…and the horse will still get you there.”
She wasn’t sure she bought that one. “How do you know all this?”
“I used to live out here. Every summer, we spent at least a month in the country.”
The wooden wheels hit a rock and they all bounced into the air.
“Ouch. This is bumpier than I remember. I guess my bones are older now.”
Ayme was laughing again, which made him laugh. She was right. This whole thing was crazy. But at least they might be losing the Lurkers, leaving them in the dust. He certainly hoped so. He didn’t know for sure what they wanted, but he knew he didn’t want to give it to them. And he had a feeling it probably had something to do with an effort to keep him from showing up in Italy at the end of the week. That only made sense.
He was glad he’d thought of going to Marjan’s. She was the closest to him in age of all his adoptive siblings. They’d been quite close growing up. She was married now and living a mile or so outside the little village of Twee Beren. He hadn’t been able to call ahead, but he knew she would be happy to see him. She always was. Hopefully, she would be happy to take in Ayme and Cici until he could find Cici’s father. That would leave him free to maneuver, and free to meet Monte in Italy. And that would get him away from the temptation Ayme was beginning to represent. The sooner the better for that.
They didn’t have to be as sneaky bailing out as they had been climbing in. The farmer was singing so loudly, he wouldn’t have noticed a brass band piling out from under the straw.
And then the farmhouse was right before them. David rang the bell and a pleasant-looking, slightly plump woman answered, took one look at them and threw her arms around her brother’s neck without a word.
Ayme watched, just a step away, and then she followed them into the large, comfortable house while Marjan explained that her family was away and she was alone.
“Hans takes the children to see his mother every year for her birthday, and usually I go, too. But this time I had promised to make pies for the cheese festival in town, so here I am, rolling out pie dough all day instead.”
David was glad he only had one person to try to explain things to. He’d been wondering just what he was going to say to her about why he was on the run, and why he wanted Ayme to stay with her. But he got a reprieve while the women chatted happily with each other and Marjan fixed up a bedroom for Ayme and the baby. Cici was being fussy and his sister helped quiet her with a practiced touch.
“You do that as easily as David does,” Ayme told her with admiration as she watched.
“Oh, we all grew up taking care of babies. I sometimes think my whole life has been nothing but babies, from beginning to end.”
David coughed discreetly. “There were those years at the Sorbonne.”
Marjan grinned “Yes, but we don’t talk about those.” She rolled her eyes. “Massive waste of time.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you have fun?”
Marjan gave him a look. “Fun is overrated. It often leaves behind a large mess that is very hard to clean up.” She turned to Ayme. “You’ll want your baby with you, won’t you?”
“Oh! Of course.”
“We still have a little crib that will be perfect.”
She gave them both some soup and sent Ayme, who looked dead on her feet, off to bed. Then she turned to her brother.
“It’s not her baby, is it?”
David smiled, waving a soup spoon at her. “You could tell that quickly?”
She nodded. “It wasn’t just the fact that she doesn’t have a smooth way of caring for her. There was something in the way she looked at the child.” she shrugged. “That total depth of feeling just wasn’t there.”
David nodded slowly. “You’re right. But she’s actually a lot better at hiding it than she was when she first burst into my life.”
“Oh?”
“At that point she was practically holding the poor thing by one leg.”
Marjan laughed. “She was claiming the baby was hers?”
“Yes. But when she constantly referred to a book on child care I knew pretty quickly that she was a fraud.”
Marjan frowned. “That’s a harsh word to use, don’t you think?
“You’re right,” he said ruefully. “Fake is much more accurate.”
Marjan laughed. “Are you going to tell me the story? Or do I just have to wait and read about it in the papers?”
He looked at her ruefully, not sure how much he should tell her.
“Maybe we could start with this—just tell me where you two are headed.”
“We’re not ‘you two’,” he said defensively. “We’re not a couple.”
“No?”
“No. I’m going to Italy. And she’s…” He sighed. “I was hoping she could stay with you for a few days.”
“Of course.” She nodded wisely. “I just read in the paper about the last of the old Ambrian royal family dying. Thaddeus, isn’t it? I saw that his memorial service is scheduled to be held in Italy.”
David stared at her. “Interesting,” he said carefully.
“Yes.” Her smile was guileless. “Will you be going to that?” she asked.
David’s heart was beating a little harder.
“Why do you ask?” he said.
“No reason.” She rose. “Would you like some more soup?” she asked him with a smile.
He didn’t answer. He stared at her for a long moment. “How did you know?” he asked at last.
CHAPTER NINE
“OH, DAVID.” Marjan ruffled his hair affectionately. “I’ve long had my own ideas about who you are and why you came to live with us in the middle of the night so long ago.”
He stared at her. He’d never known she knew. “I hope you keep those ideas to yourself.”
“Oh, I will. I understand the danger.” She sat down next to him and reached out to hold his hand. “I figured it out ye
ars ago. Remember the summer you were fifteen? Suddenly you were too busy reading to go for a nice bicycle ride by the canals as we used to. You were always with your nose in a book, like you were possessed. I couldn’t understand why, so I looked into what you were reading. Ambria. That funny little island country almost nobody knows anything about. But you were crazy for the place, and I was jealous. My buddy was hooked on something new and leaving me behind.”
He squeezed her hand and she smiled at him.
“So I started reading about it, too, and I found information about the lost princes. The dates matched the time when you came to live with us. Then I looked at pictures of the royal family.” She shook her head, smiling at him. “Then I knew. It was such a great story. My brother, the prince.”
He sighed. “Do the others know?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think of any of them ever stopped to wonder why you were with us or where you came from, or why a family who already had five children and more on the way would want another one. They just assumed your family were close friends with our parents and we took you in when you needed us to.” She laughed softly.
“Do you remember? We spent long summer evenings talking about what was and what could be. I knew there was something more to you than mere happenstance. Besides, I remembered that night you arrived, everyone whispering and acting like something very scary was about to happen.” She nodded. “So when I read about that death, I thought you might be going to Italy for the memorial service. I would think it is time for you to take up the cause.”
“Are we going to Italy?” Ayme’s voice cut into the kitchen’s warmth.
They both jumped, realizing Ayme had come into the room behind them. David quickly scanned her face, looking for evidence that she might have heard more than he would want her to. But her eyes were clear. He didn’t think she’d heard anything much.
“I have to go to Italy,” he told her. “Marjan has said that you can stay here until I get back.”
Her eyes suddenly filled with tragedy, imploring him. “Oh, no,” she said softly. “But we haven’t found that Darius person yet.”
He got up from his chair and went to her, reaching out to take both her hands. She was dressed in a long white nightgown Marjan had loaned her and she looked like an angel. A lump rose in his throat. She was so beautiful, it made his heart hurt.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he told her. “Get some sleep. Your eyes are like bruises on your face, they’re so dark.”
She searched his eyes, then nodded. “All right,” she said. “I just came out to get Cici’s warmed bottle, but…”
“Here it is,” Marjan said, handing it to her. “Good night, Ayme. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Ayme gave her a wavering smile. “Good night. And thank you so much.”
She gave David one last look and turned to go.
Marjan looked at David’s face and her eyes got very round. She nodded knowingly. “Not a couple?” she murmured.
But he was watching Ayme leave and he didn’t seem to hear her.
Ayme fed Cici, put her back into her cute little crib and slipped back into the huge fluffy bed. It felt warm and luxurious. Maybe if she just closed her eyes and let herself go limp she would fall asleep right away—and not have to think.
She tried it. It didn’t work.
Her eyes shot open and she stared into the darkness. But she wasn’t going to think about Sam or her parents. She would never sleep if she let that happen. Better to think about David. She snuggled down into the covers and closed her eyes and imagined David in the bed with her. She was asleep in no time.
The next day dawned a bit blustery. David made a careful survey of the area from his window on the second floor, but he didn’t see any sign of surveillance activities anywhere in the neighborhood. Ayme and Cici came out looking fresh and rested and Marjan cooked them all a wonderful breakfast.
Ayme and David lingered over coffee.
David was trying once again to figure out what had started this race across the continent, and why he’d suddenly known he was in danger and had to flee. Was it really Ayme showing up the way she had? Or the phone call in the night? Or just that it was time to leave for Italy and the sense of a gathering storm had become his reality?
“Have you tried to call that man in Dallas?” he asked her.
She shook her head.
“Has anyone tried to call you?”
She gave him a crooked smile. “How would I know? You made me turn my phone off.”
“Check your voice mail,” he said.
She checked, but there was nothing. Just the absence of the usual cheery greeting she could expect daily from her mother—a lump formed in her throat, but she shook it off.
He pulled out a leather case that had four cell phones in neat pockets and took a moment to choose one.
“Why do you have so many phones?” she asked.
“Just in case. I like to be prepared.” He set a phone up and looked at her. “Okay, give me the number.”
“What number?”
“That Carl guy. I want to check him out.”
She opened her own phone again and retrieved it, reading it off to him while he clicked the numbers in. In a moment, there was a snap and a voice answered.
“You’ve reached the number for Euro Imports. Mr. Heissman is out at the moment. Please leave your name and number so that he may call you back. Thank you for calling Euro Imports.”
“Euro Imports,” he muttered, getting out his laptop and going on the Internet. There it was. It seemed to be legit.
He looked at Ayme who had been watching all this with interest.
“I guess your friend Carl is at least a real businessman in Dallas,” he said. “So if that was him calling the other night, maybe it wasn’t such a threatening call after all.”
She nodded.
“Or maybe it was something else entirely.” He gave her his best Humphrey Bogart impression. “You just never know. The problems of three little people like us don’t matter a hill of beans in this crazy world.”
She laughed, warmed to think he was talking about the very three people she was thinking of. It almost made it seem like they were a family of sorts.
They finished up their coffee and David asked his sister to watch Cici for an hour so that he could take Ayme along on a pilgrimage of sorts. He wanted to see if old Meneer Garvora, the man who had taught him some of the fundamentals about Ambria, still lived in the area.
They set off down the lane between hedgerows and David told her how the old man had caught him fishing in a landowner’s fishpond one day when he was about ten, and as punishment, he’d made him read a book about Ambria and come by to give him a report.
“I have no idea how he knew about my ties to that country, or if he even did know. But he insisted I learn a lot about the place. I owe him a debt of gratitude for that.”
He realized now how much the old man had husbanded the flame in him, making sure it didn’t go out in the cold wind of international apathy. How had he known how important that would be to David’s future?
“I wish someone had taught me a thing or two,” Ayme said in response.
He looked over at her and smiled. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he said.
But she gave him a baleful look and he realized she was brooding about his plan to leave her with his sister.
They reached the little cottage where David’s mentor had lived, but the place seemed a bit deserted.
“This looks like a place where hobbits might live,” Ayme noted. “Or maybe the seven dwarves.”
David knocked on the door but there was no answer. Walking about in the garden, they found a stone bench and sat together on it, gazing into a small pond and enjoying the morning sunshine, and he told Ayme about some of the lessons the old man had given him when he was a boy.
Memory was a strange thing. Now that he’d opened his mind to that past,
a lot came flooding in that he hadn’t thought of in years. He especially remembered how lost and lonely he’d felt as he tried to make sense of his situation. He’d spent years wondering about his family, wondering what had happened to them.
At one point in his childhood, he’d asked his foster mother. Neither of this second set of parents ever brought up the fact that he was an addition to their thriving nest. They treated him as though he’d come the same way the others had come, and looking back now, he was grateful. But at the time, it made it hard to bring up the subject of his old life. He felt as though he was betraying their kindness in a way. Still, he had to find out whatever he could.
When he’d finally built up the courage to ask, his foster mother had looked sad and pulled him onto her lap and given him a hug. She told him how sorry she was for the tragedies in his life. She gave him sympathy and a tear or two. But what she didn’t give him was the truth.
Maybe she didn’t know anything else. He realized that now. But at the time, he’d resented the lack of information. He’d felt as though he had to operate blind in a seeing world. He wanted to know about his siblings. He wanted to know what his parents had been like. He had a thousand questions and his foster parents gave him sympathy but not much else.
As he grew older he tried doing research on his own, but he couldn’t find much. Most of the world seemed to assume that his entire family had been wiped out in the rebellion, but since he knew different, he didn’t take that seriously. He knew there was hope that more royals had survived. Still, he was always aware, just as he’d been aware that dark, stormy night, that the wrong move or a careless word could bring on disaster.
And then he had been found by Meneer Garvora. The old man, in his crusty way, had opened up the world of Ambria to him. Looking back, he realized now what a resource he had been.
“So he gave you what your new parents just couldn’t,” Ayme noted. “How lucky that you had him in your life.”
