“Yes, it is.” He didn't disagree with her, nor did he react to anything she'd said. “But all we can do is make the best of it. What other choice do we have?”
“None.” She sighed, and drank her coffee, and made an effort not to beat him up about it. It wasn't his fault, but it was causing her grave concern, and he could see it.
After breakfast, they dressed and went out. They wandered down the Faubourg St. Honoré to look at the shops, and then went to L'Avenue for lunch. She relaxed finally and was relieved to see that no one had followed them. Max and Sam stayed close, and they continued to have Christianna and Parker use the back entrance of the hotel on the rue Cambon to go in and out. It was safer and more prudent.
After lunch, they went back to the hotel. They both packed, and then curled up on the bed. They had both booked the latest flights they could, so that they would have as much time together as possible. They didn't want to lose a minute with each other, or even less a lifetime, thanks to the paparazzi. Although she knew that her chances of convincing her father were slim to none, she didn't want anything to tip that balance further, and scandalous press in the tabloids would almost certainly do that.
They lay on the bed together for a long time, and eventually they made love for the last time, gently, slowly, tenderly, savoring their final moments together. And afterward she lay in his arms and cried. She was so afraid now that she would never be able to see him again. She wanted everything they'd had before, in Senafe, and all they had now were these tiny borrowed moments whenever they could find them. He made her promise that they would come to Paris again, whenever she could get away. He said he would arrange his schedule around her at a moment's notice. As a research doctor, and not one who saw patients regularly, he had more freedom to do that. She didn't know yet what effect the paparazzi's photographs would have, if any. She said they needed to lie low for a while and wait to see what happened. Hopefully, nothing. But that seemed too much to ask. If so, they had been lucky.
They got out of bed finally, showered together, and dressed. He had never used his room once during the entire weekend, but it had given them respectability, and he was perfectly happy to pay for it, even if for nothing. Especially if it made things better for her. Parker wanted to do everything possible to make this work. She was more familiar with the situation than he was, and the restrictions on her, so he was more than willing to play by her rules, or her father's. He was truly in love with her, and more than life itself, he wanted to see her again, and, if they were incredibly lucky and blessed, marry her one day. She said it was impossible, but he was willing to hang around and wait. She was the only woman he had loved that way. And she was just as in love with him.
They kissed long and hard before they left the room, and then left the hotel together through the back door. Max and Sam took care of all the necessary arrangements. They were driving to the airport in the same car, as their flights were almost at the same time, hers to Zurich, and his to Boston. And then finally, their last moments came. She kissed him before they left the car, and then only stood looking at him sadly in the airport. She could not kiss him there, and he understood that. It was the burden of who she was, which he now fully accepted.
“I love you,” she said, standing two feet away from him and facing him. “Thank you for a wonderful weekend,” she said politely, and he smiled. She was always gracious and polite, even when she was worried, like after the paparazzi.
“I love you too, Cricky. Everything's going to be all right. Try not to worry too much about the paparazzi.” She nodded and said nothing. And then, unable to stop herself, she reached out and touched his hand, and he held it. “It's going to be all right,” he told her in a whisper. “I'll see you soon, all right?”
She nodded, with tears in her eyes. She mouthed the words I love you again, and almost as though she had to tear herself away from him, she walked slowly to her plane, with Max and Sam carrying her bags, and Parker picked up his and went to check in for his flight. He turned to look at her as she walked away. She turned and smiled bravely at him, with one hand raised for him, and then touched her heart, as from across the airport and the worlds that separated them, he touched his.
Chapter 16
Christianna had a busy week after she went back to Vaduz. She had a series of official engagements and appearances, and her father gave two dinner parties in Vaduz back to back on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. It was Thursday morning, as she dressed for an official lunch her father had asked her to attend, that her secretary walked in, and without a word handed her the British Daily Mirror. Until then, she and Parker had e-mailed each other constantly, and been reassured that nothing had turned up in the press. And now here it was. The British got it first. And they had a field day with it. They always did.
The headlines were glaring, and the photograph showed her beaming up at Parker, looking ecstatic and blissful, as he smiled down at her with an arm around her. It was instantly obvious that they were either madly in love, lovers, or both. She always felt stupid when she looked at photographs of herself on the front page. And normally, they were not in a romantic context. That had only happened to her once, and never again, and she had been very young. She had been extremely cautious since then. Except this one time with Parker, when it mattered so much, and she had walked right into them on the heels of Madonna. It was such rotten luck. She stared at it with a look of devastation.
The headline was succinct, and fortunately not seamy, although it might have been. But even what it said was not what she wanted said about them. “Hot new Romance in Liechtenstein: Princess Christianna …and who is her Prince Charming?” The text said that they had been seen leaving the Ritz Hotel in Paris, presumably during a romantic weekend. It commented that they made a handsome pair. And then it referred to the fact that her brother's romances were legion, and usually his sister's doings were more discreet, so this must be the The Big One. She could just imagine her father's face when he read it.
She quickly e-mailed Parker to give him a heads-up. She told him what newspaper and that it had made the front page. He could look it up on the Internet. That was all she said. She was in too big a hurry to say more, and rushed off to the official luncheon given by her father. As she would have expected, he said nothing about it during lunch. It wasn't her father's style to drop hints or do things by half measures. He preferred to confront things head-on, just as he did with her brother.
It was only after their guests had left the palace that he asked her if she could spare a few minutes of her time, and she knew what was coming. It had to be. She couldn't appear on the front page of a London newspaper, with a man he'd never heard of, caught during a romantic tryst, and have him choose to ignore it. That would be too much to ask.
She followed him to his private sitting room and waited till he sat down, and then she did the same. He glanced at her for a long moment with a look of displeasure mixed with grief. For an interminable amount of time, he said absolutely nothing and neither did Christianna. She wasn't going to bring the subject up, in case by some miracle she got a reprieve and this was about something else, but of course it wasn't. He finally began.
“Christianna, I suppose you know what I want to talk to you about.” She tried to look expectant, innocent, and blank, but failed abysmally. She could feel guilt creep all over her face, and finally she nodded.
“I think I do,” she said in barely more than a whisper. Her father was always kind to her, but he was nonetheless the reigning prince and could have a daunting way about him, when he chose to. And after all, he was her father, and she hated to incur his wrath, or even his displeasure.
“I assume you saw the photograph in the Daily Mirror this morning. I'll admit the photograph is lovely of you, but I was somewhat curious about the identity of the gentleman beside you. I didn't recognize him.” So clearly he was not a royal, since her father knew them all. He somehow implied, without ever saying it, that it must have been a tennis teacher or somethi
ng of the kind. “And you know, I'm not terribly fond of reading about my children in the press. We get an opportunity to do quite a lot of that with your brother. I don't usually recognize any of his friends either.” It was a slam at Parker, suggesting that he was the male equivalent of the kind of lowlife Freddy went out with, which was not the case. Parker was educated and decent, a doctor, and from a nice family. All the women Freddy went out with were actresses, models, or worse.
“It's not at all like that, Papa,” Christianna said, trying to sound calm, but feeling panicked. They were not off to a great start. She knew her father, and he was not at all pleased. “He's a lovely man.”
“I hope so, if their report is accurate and you spent the weekend at the Ritz with him. May I remind you that you told me you were going there just to go shopping?” His eyes were filled with reproach and displeasure.
“I'm sorry, Papa. I'm sorry I lied to you.” She figured that abject apology was the only way to go, and she was ready to grovel if he would allow her to see Parker. “It was wrong of me, I know.”
He smiled gently at that. “You must really love this man, Cricky, if you're willing to eat that much crow.” And it hadn't escaped him either that they looked ecstatic together, which was why he was so worried. “All right, let's get this over with. Who is he?”
She paused for breath for a long time. She was terrified she wouldn't do it right. And their whole future rested on whether or not she did. It was an awesome burden.
“We worked together in Senafe, Papa. He's a doctor, doing AIDS research at Harvard. He was with Doctors Without Borders, and then continued his research with us at the camp. Now he's back at Harvard. He's Catholic, from a solid family, and he's never been married.” It was all she could think of to say at one gulp, but the data she offered her father was respectable at least, and painted a decent portrait of Parker.
The nature of the information she gave him was all he needed to know, particularly the fact that he was Catholic and had never been married. His heart sank. “And you're in love with him?” This time she didn't hesitate. She nodded. “Is he American?” She nodded again. It answered his most important question. He was an American commoner, and not suited to a princess, the daughter of a reigning prince, for anything other than as an acquaintance.
“Papa, he's a really lovely man. He comes from a good family. Both his father and brother are doctors. They come from San Francisco.” He didn't care if they came from the moon by rocket ship. He had no title. It was an entirely unsuitable match for her, in his opinion. And he knew the Family Court and members of Parliament would agree with him, although he could have overruled them, if he wished. And Christianna knew that, too. She also knew that he would never use his powers to allow her to marry a commoner. It went against everything he believed.
“You know you can't do that,” he told her gently. “You'll only make yourself, and him, miserable if you continue to see him. You'll wind up with a broken heart, and so will he. He's a commoner, Christianna. He has no title. He's not even European. It's out of the question, if you're asking me what I think you are.” His face was rigid, and she was already in tears.
“Then let me just see him. I won't marry him. We could meet from time to time. I promise I'll be discreet.”
“I assume you were discreet this weekend, in Paris, unless you're even more foolish than you've been, and I don't think you are. And the press still discovered you, and look at what it looks like. A Serene Highness having assignations with men in hotel rooms. That's not very pretty.”
“Papa, I love him,” she said with tears running down her cheeks.
“I'm sure you do, Cricky,” he said gently. “I know you well enough, I think, to believe you wouldn't do this lightly. Which makes this even more dangerous for you. You cannot marry him, ever, so why would you carry on a romance that will only break your heart and his? It isn't even fair to him. He deserves to be in love with someone he can marry. And you're not that person. One day, when you marry, it will have to be a person of royal birth. It's in our constitution. And the Family Court would never in a hundred years approve him.”
“They would if you told them to. You can overrule them.” They both knew he could. “Other princes and princesses all over Europe marry commoners these days. Even crown princes. It happens everywhere, Papa. We're a dying breed, and if we find the right person, even if not of royal birth, wouldn't you rather have me marry a good man, who loves me and will be kind to me, than a bad one who happens to be a prince? Look at Freddy,” she threw at him, and he winced. “Would you want me to marry a man like him?” Her father shook his head. That was a whole other subject, but she was using everything she could, knowing full well how much Freddy upset him.
“Your brother is a special case. And of course I want you to marry a good man. But not all princes are derelicts like Friedrich. He may grow up one day, but I'll confess, if you came home with a man with his habits, I would lock you up in a convent. And Christianna, I'm not going to do that here. I'm sure this young man is honorable and everything you say. But he is not eligible for your hand, and he will never be. I don't want you seen in public with him again. And if you do love him, I strongly advise you to end it with him before it gets worse. Both of you will only get hurt. As long as I'm alive, it will go nowhere. If you're lonely and unhappy here, we'll start looking around for a husband for you, a suitable one. But Christianna, this one isn't. You may not see him again.” For the first time in her entire life, she actually hated her father. She was sobbing when she answered him, and she had never seen him so cruel. As kind as he had been to her all her life, he was now denying her the only thing she really wanted, a life with the man she loved, and his approval. And he had refused.
“Papa, please … this isn't the fourteenth century. Can't you be more modern about this? Everyone talks about what a creative, modern ruler you are. Why can't you let me be with a commoner, even marry him someday? I don't care if my children have titles, or are commoners. I'll even give up mine if you wish. I'm not in line for the succession. I could never reign here, even if Freddy didn't. So why does it matter who I marry? I don't care if I'm a princess, Papa, or marry a prince,” she said, engulfed in sobs, as he looked at her miserably.
“But I do. We cannot ignore our own traditions, or our constitution, whenever it's convenient. That's what duty and honor are about. You must do your duty, even when it hurts, even when it means you must make sacrifices. That's why we're here, to lead the people and protect them and show them by our example what we expect of them, and what's the right thing to do.” He was a purist and an idealist, for her and himself, bound by history and tradition. He made no exceptions to the rules, even for himself.
“That's your job, Papa, not mine. They don't care who I marry, and neither should you, as long as he's a good man.”
“I want you to have a good prince.”
“I don't. I swear, I will never marry if you do this.” He looked anguished as he responded. She loved this young American even more than he had feared.
“That would be a grave mistake. For you, even more than for me. If he loves you, he shouldn't want you to violate your heritage, out of respect for you. You need to marry someone from your own world, who understands your duties, traditions, and obligations, who has led the same life as you, someone of royal birth, Christianna. A commoner would never respect your life. It would never work. Trust me on this.”
“He's American, it makes no sense to him. Nor does it to me. This is completely stupid, and cruel.” She disagreed with everything he had said, and knew Parker would have too. She was fighting a thousand years of tradition, to no avail.
“You're not American. You know better than to do something like this. You're my daughter and you know what's expected of you. If this is what happened when you went to Africa, I am very sorry I allowed you to go. You have violated my trust.” It was everything she had told Parker, and all she had feared her father would say. In fact, it was worse.
> He was completely intransigent and inflexible, living in another century, determined to follow tradition and the constitution and make no exception out of compassion for her. He was not even giving her a ray of hope. And worse, he was totally convinced that he was right. She knew he would never relent. She felt as though his words had broken her heart. She was almost in physical pain as she looked at her father in despair, and he looked at her in sorrow. He hated to cause her pain, but he felt he had no choice.
“I want you to stop seeing this man,” he said finally. “How you end it is up to you. I will not interfere, out of respect for you. And he has done nothing wrong, so far. You were both foolish to go to Paris, and expose yourselves. You saw what happened, they caught you immediately. You must end it, Cricky, as soon as possible, for both your sakes. I leave the rest up to you.” With that, he stood up and turned away. He did not come to put his arms around her because he knew how devastated and angry she was, and it seemed wiser to wait. She needed time to accept everything he had said, to make her peace with it, and tell this man. All he wanted and all he hoped now was that she would forgive him one day. But he was doing what he was convinced was right for her.
She stood up and looked at him in disbelief. She couldn't believe he was willing to do this to her. But he was. He felt it his duty, and had pointed out hers to her. And then, still crying, she turned and left the room without another word. There was nothing left to say.
H.R.H. Page 24
