by Leanne Banks
Alarm shot through Pippa. “Oh, so not necessary. I still have to finish my work for my PhD.”
“That won’t be forever,” Bridget said as she dressed wiggly Tyler.
“I can only hope,” Pippa muttered.
“It won’t be,” Bridget said emphatically. “Besides, you can’t wait forever to move on, romantically speaking. I can help with that.”
“You seem to forget that our family is dreadful when it comes to matchmaking,” Pippa said. “How much did you enjoy Stefan’s attempts at matchmaking?”
Bridget waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “That’s different. I won’t be trying to match you up with someone who can contribute to Chantaine. I’ll find someone hot and entertaining.”
“Lovely intentions,” Pippa said. “Don’t strain yourself. The boys and I will have some fun in the playroom.”
“Perfect. If I’m late they can have lunch in an hour.”
“Will do,” Pippa said. “Are you truly going to have cattle at this ranch?”
“If Ryder has his way,” Bridget said with a sigh. “If we have to take the man out of Texas, we’ll just bring Texas to him. Ciao. I’ll be back soon,” she said and kissed both of the boys.
As soon as Bridget left, the twin toddlers looked at her with pouty faces. Travis’s lower lip protruded and he began to whimper. Tyler joined in.
“Absolutely none of that. She’ll be back before you know it.” Bridget set both of them on their feet and took them by the hand. “To the playroom,” she said and marched them into the small backroom. If there was one thing she’d learned about caring for toddlers, it was that it helped to be willing to make a bloody fool of herself. She immediately turned on the animal sounds CD and followed the instructions to make honking sounds. The boys dried up and joined her.
Just over an hour later, Bridget returned and Pippa could no longer escape her studies. She retreated to her room with a half sandwich for lunch. She thought of the crepes and her stomach clenched. Her mind kept wandering to the time she’d spent with Nic and his mother.
She told herself not to think about it. It wasn’t her responsibility. These genealogy charts required her complete and immediate attention. She’d used every possible device to procrastinate doing her work entirely too long. Inputting her second cousin’s name to the chart, she forced herself to focus. Whenever she conducted her research on people whom she knew, she often thought about their personal stories. Her second cousin Harold had moved to Tibet and his sister, Georgina, had married a man from England and was raising her children in the countryside. Pippa had always liked Georgina because she’d been such a down-to-earth sort of woman. It was a shame she didn’t see her more often.
Harold and Georgina’s deceased parents had owned a lovely cottage on the other side of Chantaine that was now left vacant because neither Harold nor Georgina visited Chantaine very often. Why, in fact, Pippa was certain it had been nearly eight years since either of her second cousins had set foot on Chantaine.
Pippa stopped dead, staring at the cursor on her laptop. Vacant lovely cottage. Nic’s parents.
“Stop it,” she hissed to herself. It would be incredibly disloyal. If her brother Stefan ever found out, he would never forgive her. And there was no way he wouldn’t find out. Not with her security haunting her. She was lucky she’d escaped discovery today.
Back to work, she told herself sternly and worked past midnight. She finally crawled into bed, hopeful she would fall into deep sleep. Thank goodness, she did. Sometime during the night, she sank into a dream where a black limo crawled through a beautiful cemetery. Cars and people dressed in black but carrying flowers followed the limo. Everything inside her clinched with pain. A white butterfly fluttered over the black limo, capturing her attention. It could have been the spirit of…
Pippa suddenly awakened, disoriented, the images of the limo and the butterfly mingling in her mind. She sat up in bed, her heart slamming into her chest. Images of her brother Stefan, Nic, his mother, Amelie.
This wasn’t her business, she told herself. Her heart ached for Nic and his mother, but she couldn’t go against her family to make his mother’s dream come true. She just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. It would be a terrible betrayal.
She tried to catch her breath and closed her eyes. She tried to make her brain stop spinning. How could she possibly deceive her family for Nic? For Amelie?
But how could she not?
Chapter Two
It took most of the rest of the day to catch up with her cousin to get permission to use the cottage. Georgina was so gracious that it made Pippa feel guilty. Oh, well, if she was going to go through with providing the cottage for Nic’s mother and father, then her web of deception was just getting started. The choice to deceive her family was unforgivable, but the choice to turn her back on Amelie was more unacceptable. Her stomach churned because she wasn’t a dishonest person. The prospect of all the lies she would have to tell put a bad taste in her mouth.
She would normally try to reason with Stefan, but Pippa knew her entire family was unreasonable about the Lafitte matter. She would have to learn to push aside her slimy feelings about this and press on. The first task was to call Nic.
* * *
Nic studied the recent reports from his and his father’s business on his tablet PC while he drank a glass of Scotch. He took a deep breath of the Mediterranean night air as he sat on the deck of his yacht anchored close enough to shore for his mother to catch a glimpse of her precious Chantaine whenever she liked. He just hoped she didn’t do anything impulsive like jump overboard and swim to shore. Rubbing his chin, he shuddered at what a nightmare that would be. He couldn’t put it past her, though, especially after she’d sneaked off the other morning.
Nic was caught somewhere between genie and parent, and he wasn’t equipped to be either. The reports on both his father’s businesses and his own looked okay for the moment, but he knew he would have to go back to the States soon for his father’s company. With Amelie’s illness, Paul Lafitte had understandably been distracted. Despite the fact that they’d separated on two different occasions, Amelie was the light of Paul’s life and Nic wasn’t sure how his father would survive after his mother… Nic didn’t even want to think the word, let alone say it, even though he knew the time was coming.
Sighing, he took another sip of his Scotch and heard the vibrating buzz of his cell phone. The number on the caller ID surprised him. After his surprise meeting with Princess Pippa the other morning, he figured he’d never see her again except for public affairs.
He picked up the phone and punched the call button. “Nic Lafitte. Your Highness, what a surprise,” he said, unable to keep the bite from his voice. Pippa had turned out to be the tease of his life.
“Hello. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said, her voice tense with nerves, which made him curious.
“Just a perfect glass of Scotch and rare solitude,” he said.
A short silence followed. “Well, pardon the interruption, but I have some news that may be of interest to you.”
“You called to tell me you missed me,” he said, unable to resist the urge to bother her. During and after their little interlude last year, the woman had bothered the hell out of him.
He heard her sharp intake of breath and realized he’d scored. “I called about your mother.”
His pleasure immediately diminished. “What about her? Have you discussed the situation with your family, and now they won’t even allow her and my father in the harbor?”
“No, of course not,” Pippa said. “If you would just let me finish—”
“Go ahead,” he said, the semi-peacefulness of the evening now ruined.
“I found a cottage for your parents where they can stay,” she said.
Nic blinked in sudden, silent surprise.
“Nic, did you hear me?”
“Yes. Repeat that please.”
“I found a cottage for your parents on Chantaine,” she said.
“Why?” he demanded.
Another gap of silence followed. “Um, well, I have these cousins Georgina and Harry and neither of them live in Chantaine anymore. They haven’t even visited in years, and they inherited a cottage from their parents. It’s been vacant, again for years, so I thought, why not?”
“Exactly,” Nic said. “Why not? Except for the fact that my father has been banned from setting foot on Chantaine. I don’t suppose your brother experienced a sudden wave of compassion, or just a rational moment and has decided to pardon Paul Lafitte.”
“You don’t need to insult Stefan,” she said. “My brother is just defending my father’s honor.”
“Even though Stefan wouldn’t have been born if your father had married Amelie,” Nic said.
“Yes, I know it’s not particularly logical, but the point is I have found this house. Your mother wants more time in Chantaine. Staying there can make it happen.”
“You still haven’t addressed the issue about my father,” Nic said.
“Well, I thought we could work around that. Your mother mentioned that he broke his foot, so it’s not as if he’ll be able to tour much. When he does, perhaps he could wear a hat and glasses.”
“And a fake mustache?” he added, rolling his eyes. It was a ludicrous plan.
“I know it’s not perfect,” she said.
“Far from it,” he said.
“But it’s better than nothing.”
“I can’t take the chance that my father will end up in jail.”
“Perhaps that’s not your decision to make,” she countered, surprising him.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean shouldn’t he be given the choice?” she asked. “Besides, your father’s presence may never be discovered. It’s not as if there are copies of his photo posted everywhere the way you do in the States.”
“It’s called a Wanted Poster, and they’re mostly just displayed in post offices and convenience stores these days. We’ve progressed since the Wild West days,” he said.
“Exactly,” she said. “And so have we. No one has been beheaded in over one hundred and fifty years, and we haven’t used the dungeon as a prison for nearly a hundred.”
“Why don’t I feel better? I know that Chantaine doesn’t operate under the policy of innocent until proven guilty. Your judicial system, and I use the term loosely, moves slower than the process of turning coal into diamonds.”
“I didn’t call to debate my country’s judicial system. I called to offer a place to stay for your mother and father. If you want it, I shall arrange to have it cleaned and prepared for them. Otherwise…” She paused and he heard her take a breath.
“Otherwise?” he prompted.
“Otherwise, ciao,” she said and hung up on him.
Nic blinked again. Princess Pippa wasn’t the rollover he’d thought she was. He downed the rest of his exquisite Scotch, barely tasting it. What the hell. She had surprised him. Now he had to make a decision. Although his father had caused trouble for the entire family, Nic felt protective of him, especially in his father’s current state with his broken foot and his grief over Amelie.
Nic closed his eyes and swore under his breath. He already knew how his father would respond if given the choice of risking prosecution in Chantaine. Paul Lafitte was a blustering bear and bull. He would love the challenge…even if he was in traction and confined to the house.
Raking his hand through his hair, he knew what he had to do. He walked inside to the stateroom lounge where his father dozed in front of the television. A baseball game was playing and his father was propped in an easy chair snoring.
Maybe he should wait until tomorrow, Nic thought and turned off the television.
His father gave a loud snort and his eyes snapped open. “What happened? Who’s ahead?”
“Rangers,” Nic lied. The Rangers were having a terrible season.
“Yeah, and I’m the Easter bunny,” his father said.
Nic gave a dry laugh. His father was selective with the use of denial, and apparently he wasn’t going to exercise that muscle with the Rangers tonight. “Good luck hopping,” he said. “You need anything to drink?”
“Nah. Take a seat. What’s on your mind? I can tell something’s going on,” he said, waving his hand as if the yacht belonged to him instead of Nic.
Nic sank onto the sofa next to his father. “I got an interesting call tonight.”
“Must have been a woman. Was she pregnant?” his father asked.
Nic gave a short laugh. “Nothing like that. I’ve been offered a cottage where you and Mom can stay. On Chantaine.”
His dad gave a low whistle. “How did you manage that?”
Nic shrugged. “Lucky, I guess. The problem is you still have legal issues in Chantaine.”
His dad smiled and rubbed his mouth. “So I do, and punching Prince Edward in the face after he insulted your mother was worth it ten times over.”
“Easy to say, but if you stay in Chantaine, there’s a possibility that you could get caught.” Nic shook his head. “Dad, with their legal system, you could be stuck in jail for a while.”
“So?” he asked.
“So, it’s a risk. You’re not the young buck you once were. You could end up stuck there while Mom is…” He didn’t want to say the rest.
His father narrowed his eyes. It was an expression Nic had seen several times on his father’s face. The dare a pirate couldn’t deny. He descended from wily pirates. His father was no different, although his father had gotten caught a few times. “Your mother wants to rest in Chantaine. We’ll accept the kind offer of your friend. To hell with the Devereauxs.”
“Might not want to go that far,” Nic said, thinking another glass of Scotch was in order. “A Devereaux is giving you the cottage.”
“Well, now that sounds like quite the story,” his father said, his shaggy eyebrows lifted high on his forehead.
“Another time,” Nic said. “You need to rest up for your next voyage.”
His father gave a mysterious smile. “If my great-great-grandfather escaped the authorities on a peg leg, I can do it with a cast.”
Nic groaned. “No need to push it, Dad.”
* * *
The next morning, he dialed the princess.
“Hello,” she said in a sleep-sexy voice that did weird things to his gut.
“This is Nic. We’ll accept your kind offer. Meet me at the cottage and I’ll clean it. The less people involved, the better.”
Silence followed. “I didn’t think of that,” she confessed. “I’m accustomed to staff taking oaths of silence.”
He smiled at her naïveté. “This is a different game. Too many people need to be protected. You, my mother and father. We need to keep this as quiet and low-profile as possible.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at the cottage mid-morning,” she said.
“What about your security?” he asked.
“I’ll tell them I’m going to the library,” she said.
“Won’t they follow you?”
“I’ll go to the library first. They’ll get bored. They always do.”
“Who are these idiots on your security detail?” he asked.
“Are you complaining?”
“No,” he said. “And yes.”
She laughed, and the breathless sound made his chest expand. He suddenly felt lighter. “How do you end up with the light end of the security detail?”
“I’m boring. I don’t go clubbing. I’ve never been on drugs. I babysit my nieces and nephews. I study genealogy, for bloody’s
sake.”
He nodded, approving her M.O. “Well done, but does that fence ever feel a little too tall for you? Ever want to climb out?”
“I climb out when I want,” she said in a cool voice. “I’ll see you this afternoon around 1:00 p.m. The address is 307 Sea Breeze. Ciao,” she said and hung up before he could reply.
Nic pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. He was unaccustomed to having anyone hang up on him, let alone a woman. He must have really gotten under Pippa’s skin to affect her manners that way. The possibility brought him pleasure. Again, he liked the idea of bothering her.
Just before one, he pulled past the overgrown hedges of the driveway leading to an expansive bungalow. Looked like there was a separate guest bedroom. Dibs, he thought. He could sleep there and keep track of his parents while keeping on top of the businesses.
He stopped his car behind another—Pippa’s. He recognized it from the other day. Curious, he stepped from his vehicle and walked to the front door and knocked. He waited. No answer. He knocked again.
No answer again, so he looked at the doorknob and picked the lock. Pirates had their skills. He opened the door and was shocked speechless at the sight in front of him. Pippa, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with her wild hair pulled back in a ponytail, was vacuuming the den.
The princess had a very nice backside, which he enjoyed watching for a full moment…okay, two.
Pippa turned and spotted him, screaming and dropping the vacuum handle. She clutched her throat with her hands. The appliance made a loud groan of protest.
“Did you consider knocking?” she demanded.
He lifted two fingers, then pulled up the vacuum cleaner handle and turned it off. “Twice. You didn’t answer. I would have never dreamed you could be a cleaning fairy. This is a stretch.”
“I spent a couple summers in a rustic camp in Norway. Cleaning was compulsory. We also cleaned the homes of several of the camp leaders.”
“You didn’t mention this to your parents?” he asked.
