You also came to the States to find the man who made love to you in a garden house.
She took a deep breath, banishing another pair of blue eyes from her mind. “Would you be willing to have some bloodwork done?”
Flynn considered. “Sure. Why not?” He passed the photo back to her. Then he snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute. Did your brother have any identifying marks? Birthmarks, scars—anything like that?”
She consulted the second sheet of paper she still held, though she knew its contents by heart. “Yes. He had a small patch of freckles clustered closely together on his upper right arm. We have been warned, though, that such a mark may have faded over the years.”
“No scars?” Sam was watching her closely.
She shook her head. “None that would have been large enough to have lasted. James never had any kind of surgery or stitches. He was only a year old when he was kidnapped.”
“Well, then I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted trip, Your Highness.” Sam heaved his bulky body off the desk and began to drag the front of his shirt free of his pants. “I have a surgical scar that was already healed when I was brought to the Sunshine Home, so they figured it had to have occurred at least three months before. It must have been a doozy when it happened, because they could still count the stitch marks. Twenty-one in all.”
She was horrified at the thought of a tiny baby undergoing such trauma. “At least three months before you got to the home?” she said, thinking aloud. “My brother hadn’t been missing that long before you both turned up at the Sunshine Home.”
She stood and examined the scar in the muscle just below his ribs, seeing that despite the age of the wound, it obviously had been a “doozy.”
“Good heavens. Surely a doctor would remember that kind of suture on a baby so young. Have you ever pursued it?”
Sam shrugged. “They checked it out when I was dumped, but nothing turned up. That was in the days before computers, so I imagine the search was a local kind of thing. I’ve never bothered,” he added. “Whoever left me there didn’t want me. I don’t need them now.”
She nodded, though she felt a small ache in her heart for the little boy whose hurt still showed. The ache expanded as it reminded her of another grown man with his own childhood hurts—No, don’t go there, Elizabeth.
Stepping back, she gathered up the papers and began to fold them before replacing them in her purse. “Sam, I’m sorry to have wasted your time. Thank you for seeing me today.”
“My pleasure, Your Highness.” He extended his hand and engulfed hers in a huge bear paw, holding it gently for a moment. “Good luck finding your brother.”
When she got back to the car, the driver was waiting as she’d asked. He immediately headed for her next destination, a small public airstrip where she had booked a commuter flight to Tucson and then a flight to the east coast where she would leave for the transatlantic flight to Wynborough. It wasn’t the most direct route she could have taken, but there was no power on earth that could induce her to go anywhere near Phoenix, not even to transfer from one airplane to another.
At the airport it suddenly dawned on her that she had the information that she and her sisters had been waiting to confirm for so long. Hurriedly, she sought a telephone and placed a call to Mitch Colton’s ranch where Laura Bishop still was staying with Mitch and Alexandra, coordinating the remaining leads on finding the prince.
“Laura? It’s Elizabeth.”
“Princess Elizabeth! Congratulations on your engagement.” Laura Bishop sounded as sweet and delightful as ever. “I’ll be seeing you soon, back in Wynborough. I can’t wait for the wedding and I can’t wait to meet Raphael Thorton!”’
“Laura, listen to me.” Elizabeth stopped and struggled to regain control of her voice, trying desperately to hold the tears at bay. She couldn’t bear to talk about the wedding nor her dashed hopes of a lifetime of love. “I found Sam Flynn. He’s not the one.”
“He’s not…then the only one left—” Laura’s voice rose in excitement “—is John Colton! Alexandra’s brother-in-law!”
“Yes. Is he there? I need you to talk to him right away.”
“I can’t.” The secretary’s voice was regretful. “He’s still not here. Mitch and Alexandra have left messages in several locations for him, but he hasn’t contacted them as far as I know.”
“Tell them to send more urgent messages. We have to talk to him.” If she concentrated hard enough on the task of finding her long-lost brother, perhaps some of the devastating pain that pierced her heart would go away. Or at least become more bearable. “I’m heading back to Wynborough soon. Call me there if you have any new information. But be careful. I don’t want my parents to learn anything about this until we know for sure.”
When Rafe disembarked from the flight onto which he’d bullied his way earlier in the day, Roland stood waiting in the airport lounge, his blue eyes dark with worry.
“Rafe, sorry to greet you with bad news, but I don’t think she’s come here. At least not yet.”
Rafe nodded stoically. “Thanks for checking.”
“Father has someone looking at all the flights. If she does come home, you’ll know it.”
“All right.” He was so disappointed, he could barely force out the words.
They began walking through the airport.
“I was sure she was in love with you,” Roland said. “Was I wrong?”
“You weren’t wrong.” Rafe shook his head. “But I—I didn’t handle it very well, I’m afraid.”
“Is there any way I can help? Or would you rather I just shut up?”
Despite his bone-deep misery, Rafe had to smile at his younger brother. “Just being here is help enough.” Regret for the years he could have had with Roland coursed through him and he tossed an arm around the other man’s shoulders in a quick and affectionate hug.
When they reached the chauffeured limo waiting at the exit, Rafe was surprised to see his father seated inside the car.
Before he could utter a greeting, Victor held up a hand. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“You do?” Rafe smiled wryly. “Good, because I’m not sure I do anymore.”
“Raphael, I’m sure you think I’m being so helpful out of a desire to link my house with the Wyndhams’.” He grimaced. “And I admit, there’s a part of me that would like that very much. But that’s not why I’m here. In fact, I’ll leave if you’d prefer I not involve myself in your life.”
It was a shock to see that his father’s intent blue eyes were the same ones that stared back at him every morning. Quietly, he said, “I believe you have my best interests at heart, Father. And that’s good enough for me.” And he realized it was true.
The moisture that gleamed in the older man’s eyes embarrassed them both, and there was silence in the car for a moment.
The Grand Duke inclined his head. “I never should have tried to force you into a marriage based on—”
“Lies?” asked Rafe.
“Half truths, at the very least.” The older man cleared his throat. “I know what it’s like to love someone. And it was clear when we saw you together that you and Elizabeth were very much in love. Being my son, it’s entirely possibly that you’ve done something unforgivably stupid—”
Both his sons laughed and the tension in the vehicle dissipated.
Then Rafe sobered. “I hope it’s not unforgivable.”
Slowly, hesitantly, his father reached over and laid a comforting hand on his son’s knee. “We’ll do whatever we can to help you make it right.”
Several hours later, a servant knocked on the door of the smoking room where Rafe, his father and his brother were closeted.
The Grand Duke bellowed, “Enter,” and Trumble came into the room, carrying a single sheet of paper on a silver tray.
“A telephone message for you, Your Grace.”
Victor practically leaped on the man. “Well, give it here! What does it say?” The paper slipped from hi
s grasp and fluttered toward the floor, but before it could land Roland had snatched it up again.
“The Princess has arrived at the palace,” he announced. Then he cleared his throat. “She, ah, visited a man, an American attorney named Samuel Flynn in Catalina, Arizona, before leaving the States.” He looked questioningly at Rafe. “Friend of yours?”
Rafe shook his head. “Apparently a friend of hers,” he said in a grim tone.
“Will she see you if you call on her?” asked his father.
“Not a chance.” Once he would have endured torture rather than admit to his father that he’d made a mistake. Today, it no longer seemed to matter.
“Well, then, we’ll have to get you in without being announced.”
Two hours later, Victor’s limousine was pulling up to the guardhouse at the palace gates.
“The Grand Duke of Thortonburg and my son Roland, Prince of Thortonburg,” he announced imperiously to the guard as the man checked the two men seated in the rear interior of the vehicle.
The guard punched some buttons on the face of a cell phone and received permission to admit them. As the gates slowly opened, and the limo rolled into the lush green gardens that led to the palace, Roland eyed the back of their chauffeur’s head and chuckled. “Very good, Father. Very good.”
The chauffeur glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes gleaming. “Thank you, Father.”
In the end, it was even simpler than Rafe had anticipated.
Roland and the Grand Duke left him along a deeply wooded riding path close to the inner edge of the estate. Striding along the path, Rafe looked around to get his bearings. He’d chosen this location because he knew the woods grew up to the edge of the gardens near here. The guards around the palace grounds generally stayed within sight but not necessarily within hearing of the royal family. With that in mind, he hoped to get close enough to the house so that when Elizabeth came out for a stroll, he could speak to her even if he had to sit out here all night.
He couldn’t believe how easy it had been, considering the King’s well-known fetish for security. But the Grand Duke would never be expected to be a threat. And since the King’s own security team had personally approved any chauffeurs entering any premises where the royal family was in residence, the man driving the Grand Duke’s own limo had been cleared when his uniform insignia identified him as someone previously checked out.
To his right Rafe could see the beginning of a small clearing. As he got a better look, he muttered, “I’ll be damned.”
The palace grounds were enormous and he wasn’t at all familiar with them. The sight of a glass-walled gazebo in the middle of the clearing made him shake his head wryly. Could it be the same one? It looked exactly like the one engraved in his memories—surely there couldn’t be another so similar?
The drop of rain that hit his left cheek surprised him, so immersed in his surveillance was he. But as the drops quickly became a deluge, he sprinted for the only available cover, the little glass gazebo where he’d made love to Elizabeth the very first time.
Only moments after he rushed through the little entrance into the dry interior, a noise had him whirling to look for a pursuer. Elizabeth halted halfway through the door, her hand to her throat in a gesture of shock that matched the expression on her face.
“Rafe!”
He’d recovered his wits while she goggled at him, though her appearance was as much a surprise to him. “Why don’t you come in before you get soaked?”
“I—” She glanced behind her at the downpour. “What are you doing here?”
“Coming after you.”
She straightened, and he could see her regaining her composure. She wore jeans and an oversize sweater, but when she moved into the room, her manner was so regal that she might as well have had on a crown. “You’ve wasted a trip.” The words dripped ice.
“Why did you come in here?”
Her eyelids flickered. “I was out for a walk and when it started to rain, I simply ran for the nearest cover. I didn’t come here for any other reason.”
He might have said something at that, but a man getting ready to beg for his life was smart not to antagonize the woman he wanted to share it with.
Again, she questioned him. “Why did you come here?”
“I can’t forget it.”
She blinked, looked at him through cool green eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“Back in Phoenix you told me to forget about marriage. I can’t.”
“That’s what you wormed your way in here to tell me? How did you get in here, anyway?” She held up a hand. “Never mind.” Turning, she looked through the glass panes of the gazebo window. “Go away.”
Her back was rigid, her arms hugged closely together over the swell of the baby. He could see her in profile, her lips pressed tightly together and her chin trembling.
“I’ve made peace with my father,” he said softly.
“That’s nice.” She didn’t look at him, but her tone wasn’t quite so belligerent.
There was another awkward silence while he tried to think of something brilliant that would persuade her to give him another chance. Finally he just blurted out the words that were reverberating in his mind. “You said you loved me.”
She flinched. Lifting a hand, she placed it against the condensation on the window. When she removed it, her small handprint was visible. But it was so humid in the garden house that even as they watched, the outline began to fade. “Some things aren’t meant to be permanent,” she said sadly.
“Elizabeth…” Was there no way to reach her? “If you don’t want to get married, we don’t have to. We can live together for the rest of our lives without making it legal. Just please—” His voice cracked. Stopping for a moment, he closed the space between them and stood directly behind her. “Elizabeth, I don’t want to live without you. Please come back to me.”
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t rebuff him, either. Raising his hands, he nearly placed them lightly on her shoulders but after a moment he let them drop. “Please,” he repeated. “Give me another chance. I was wrong about everything. Your father, my father, you—”
“You would live with me even if I refused to marry you? Why? So you can hound me to death until I agree to make your child legal?” The words were lightly mocking, but he heard the pain underlying them, and his heart sank.
Quietly he said, “Some of us learn lessons more slowly than others. It took me far too long to learn mine.”
He took a deep breath. “I love you.”
Her emerald eyes widened and he could see the flare of an emotion she couldn’t hide.
“I love you,” he said again, pressing his advantage. “I should have told you before. I should have trusted you—”
She put a hand over his lips. “It’s all right, Rafe. We’ll make it all right now.” She cradled his face in her hands and lifted herself on tiptoe against him.
Rafe gathered her closer and fit his mouth to hers, sweet relief flowing through him. Despite everything, she’d forgiven him. Could she ever understand how much he loved her? His mouth grew more demanding as he dragged her close, his body urging him to demonstrate his need for her.
Her hand smoothed over his shoulder and slipped around to the back of his neck as her tongue began to dance with his and her body softened and melted against him. In seconds the kiss heated into a flashfire that threatened to rage out of control.
The only thing that saved him from dragging her to the floor where they stood was the moisture on his face.
No, on her face.
The little annoyance crept into his consciousness, interrupting the intensity of the kiss, and he tore his mouth away from hers so he could wipe the rain from their faces. Only it wasn’t rain.
Elizabeth was crying.
He gentled his hands on her, slipping his palms up to cradle her jaw. “What’s wrong, Princess? Is it me?”
“N-no.” She shook her head. Her eyes were as green as spring grass, wet a
s the windowpanes around them, and tears continued to flow down her cheeks. She brought her hands up to cover his.
“I’ll retain the title,” he said desperately. Though it wasn’t the path he’d intended his life to take, he’d do it in a minute if she’d agree to stay. To his shock, the words didn’t bother him as once they would have.
But she shook her head again. “It’s not the title. I’ll love you no matter what you want to do with your life.”
As the impact of what she was saying sank in, he felt the fist squeezing his heart begin to loosen its grip. He let his hands slide down from her face, turning them to take hers in a gentle clasp as he kissed her gently. “So if there’s no problem, why are you crying?”
“I’m crying because I’m so happy.” She leaned toward him for another kiss.
But at the last moment, he remembered something. “Just who in the hell,” he said, holding his mouth a breath above hers, “is Samuel Flynn of Catalina, Arizona?”
“Who do you think he is?” Though she didn’t withdraw, there was a sudden still quality about her that told him what she feared.
“I don’t believe you’re involved with him, because you love me.”
She laughed, her face lightening and her body relaxing again. “So modest.”
“But he’s someone very important. He’s the ‘other matter’ you came to Phoenix about, isn’t he?”
She nodded. “There’s reason to believe my brother James survived the kidnapping.”
“What?” He was thunderstruck. Feeling the mound of their child pressed against him, he could appreciate for the first time the hell the King and Queen must have gone through and the thought made him nearly ill.
“It’s true,” she confirmed. “He almost certainly survived. We traced him to an orphans’ home in Arizona and narrowed our search to three men. Sam Flynn was the second.”
“And—?”
“He isn’t my brother. He has a scar to prove it. Which means that the third man probably is the heir to the throne. My sisters are waiting for him to return home so we can speak with him.”
The Pregnant Princess Page 16
