Grim-faced, Marcus swallowed the last of the cappuccino, then placed the mug on the table.
“If you’re ready to go, I think we’d better head back to the castle,” he told her. “Your family will be worried about you. And that’s the last thing they need.”
Yes, she thought miserably as she pushed aside the half-empty glass of ginger ale. Worrying her family was not something she wanted to do. But soon her belly was going to resemble a large, ripe pumpkin. She wouldn’t be able to hide her condition from them or Marcus. Her scandalous behavior would be gossiped about through the whole countryside and her family would be helpless to stop it.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “We should be getting back or everyone will be thinking we’ve had an accident in this weather.”
And she needed to get away from him, Dominique thought. Before she did something stupid and sobbed everything out to him.
He came around the table and helped her from her chair. As they left the little inn, Dominique was more aware than ever of his warm hand on the back of her arm, his tall, lean body only inches from her side.
As the two of them traveled the few miles back to the castle, she tried not to think about the way she’d felt out on the sea-swept cliff when he’d held her in his arms. Those moments had been precious and it would be dangerous for her to allow her thoughts to linger over them.
“You’re very quiet, Dominique. Are you angry with me?”
His voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked around to see they were quickly approaching the drawbridge leading into the castle grounds. Their trip home had been made in silence.
Something twisted inside her, sending a little pain between her breasts. “No. Of course I’m not angry.”
She didn’t look at him even when she heard him release a heavy sigh.
Once he braked the car to a halt, he reached over and gently touched her forearm. Beneath his fingers, her flesh sizzled and burned.
“I didn’t mean to…belittle you, as you called it, Dominique. I guess it’s hard for me to accept that not only is King Michael gone, but also his young daughter who used to smile shyly at me as we passed in the hallways.”
His words affected her far more than they should have and her eyes were wet when she lifted them to his face. “Sometimes I miss that young girl, too, Marcus. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that time. But I can’t. Nor can you.”
Quickly, she unlatched her seat belt and let herself out of the car before he had the chance to see her foolish tears.
A few minutes later, Dominique entered her suite and found Prudence in the little study both women used as an office.
“Dominique, you’re back! What did you—” The rest of Prudence’s sentence was never uttered as she took one look at her princess’s pale, pinched features. “What’s wrong?”
Dominique sank wearily onto one end of a plush divan while Prudence hurried from behind a small desk. “Nothing is wrong, Pru,” she said, trying her best not to sound cross, but knowing she did anyway.
The other woman stood with her hands on her hips, quietly surveying Dominique’s appearance. “You look, well, frankly, you look horrible.”
With both hands, Dominique pushed her tangled hair back from her face. “It was windy and raining out on the cliffs. I didn’t think to take a jacket, and my hair and clothes got wet.”
“You have a jacket on,” Prudence pointed out.
Dominique glanced down at herself then silently groaned. She’d forgotten all about Marcus’s jacket.
“Marcus lent it to me. I’ll have to get it cleaned and sent back to him.”
Not waiting for an invitation, Prudence sank down beside her on the divan. “Actually, I wasn’t referring to your hair or clothes when I said you looked horrible. It’s your face.”
Dominique rolled her eyes. “Oh, well, you’re really making me feel wonderful, Pru. Every woman wants to hear her face is a mess.”
Prudence laughed softly. “I didn’t mean—you’re beautiful, Dominique. You only have to look in the mirror to see that.” With a shake of her head, she peered more closely at Dominique. “Are you all right? You’re so pale.”
Dominique passed a weary hand over her face. She was so tired of pretending, so weary of hiding her feelings and worries. With every day that passed she was growing more and more exhausted. Sometimes she feared all the stress would harm the baby. Yet she didn’t know how to alleviate any of it.
“I’m just tired, Pru. I’m fine, really. Don’t fret about me.”
Somewhat convinced, Prudence lost her worried look. Quickly, she scooted to the edge of the cushion and squared her knees around so that she was facing Dominique. “So tell me what happened,” she urged with an eager smile.
Dominique frowned at the other woman. “For heaven’s sake, Pru, you make it sound like I’ve been on a date!”
Prudence groaned with frustration. “Dominique, you haven’t been away from the palace for probably two weeks. I only wanted to know how your afternoon went.” She looked offended. “But if you don’t want to tell me…”
If she kept mum it would only raise Prudence’s suspicion that something had gone on between her and Marcus, and that was the last thing she wanted the other woman to think. Because nothing had. And he’d made it painfully obvious that nothing ever would.
Dominique reached over and gave Prudence’s hand a quick, affectionate squeeze. “I’m sorry, Pru. I’m really sounding waspish and I don’t mean to. I—seeing the scene of Father’s accident was much harder than I imagined it would be. The cliff where the car went over is very steep and strewn with huge boulders. And the spot where the car actually burned—” A shudder rippled through her and she momentarily closed her eyes. “Even though the charred metal had already been taken away, I kept picturing it in my mind, wondering if my father really perished there.”
Prudence’s brown eyes widened at the suggestion of Dominique’s words. “Don’t you believe King Michael died in the accident? I realize they haven’t found his body, but from what I’ve heard, the police believe it would have been impossible for anyone to have survived such a fall.”
That was true enough, Dominique thought. If King Michael had been in the car when it plunged over the cliff, he was most likely dead. But she wasn’t quite convinced that her father had been in the vehicle. Still, she wasn’t going to voice her doubts to Prudence. At least, not until the police released their whole findings on the matter.
“It does look impossible,” Dominique agreed.
“Do you think the divers will find his body?”
Sighing, she leaned her head against the back of the divan. “I have my doubts. So does Marcus.”
The mention of the man’s name brought a sly smile back to Prudence’s pretty face. “So tell me about him,” she urged.
Careful to keep her expression smooth, Dominique said, “There isn’t anything to tell. You know Marcus as well as I.”
“Oh, come on, Dominique! Neither one of us has forgotten what a major crush you had on the man before you left for college.”
Dominique shot her a vexed look. “I was a teenager then. You had some silly crushes of your own during that time, too. Like the polo player from Roxbury who wore his spurs to tea.”
“True,” Prudence agreed with a giggle. “But mine was just that silly. Yours was, well, far too serious. In fact,” she added shrewdly, “I would be willing to bet that Marcus hasn’t forgotten it either. You’re a beautiful woman now. And he’s a divorced man.”
Dominique groaned as she felt color flood her face. When she’d brought up the idea that people might link them romantically, he’d looked absolutely horrified. No, she thought resolutely, Marcus had made his feelings toward her clear. He wasn’t eligible to any woman. Especially her.
“It’s no wonder my parents separated you and me for such a long time,” Dominique muttered. “You were always trying to put ridiculous ideas in my head. You still are.”
Prudence’s
soft laugh was suggestive. “There’s nothing ridiculous about Marcus Kent that I can see. He’s quite a man in my book.”
He was quite a man, Dominique silently agreed. That’s why he’d been impossible to forget. Even now that she was carrying another man’s child.
Disgusted with herself, she rose to her feet and started to the bedroom. She needed to get out of her damp clothes and get her mind off the king’s high counsel.
“Maybe so,” Dominique called over her shoulder. “But he’s off-limits to me. And he always will be. Besides, I’m not interested in finding a man. Especially one as stubborn and controlling as Marcus Kent!”
At the same time, across the palace grounds, Marcus moved restlessly around his apartment. He was angry at himself. More angry than he could ever remember being. He didn’t know what had come over him this afternoon. He’d wanted to hold Dominique in his arms and assure her that everything was going to be all right. But touching her silky hair, feeling her soft womanly body against his had turned his thoughts elsewhere and made him wonder what it would be like to make love to her.
It had been wrong of him to come down so hard on her when they’d stopped outside the inn and she’d talked about reporters linking them romantically. But her suggestion had only further echoed what he’d been feeling. And he’d not wanted to admit, even to himself, that there could ever be such a connection between them.
Cursing silently, he snatched up the morning paper and sat down in an armchair facing the small fireplace in the cozy den. Nicholas had urged him to take the rest of the afternoon off and he needed to make the most of it. Not pace around the apartment brooding about Dominique.
Snapping open the paper, he tried to focus on world and Edenbourg news, but the headlines were little more than a jumble of black letters. He couldn’t concentrate on political happenings, the weather or sports, or anything else. Not with Dominique’s sad, beautiful features swimming before his eyes.
With another silent oath, he tossed down the paper and walked over to a window that looked up at the east side of the castle where Dominique’s rooms were located.
It wasn’t like him to be so affected by a woman. In fact, since Liza had divorced him, he’d truly believed his interest in females had died. He’d not felt the need to have an intimate relationship with any woman. And so far he’d not even attempted to look for a casual companion, much less search for a lifetime soul mate.
He’d already learned he couldn’t be a husband. Three-quarters of his time was spent at the king’s side. The rest wasn’t enough to hold any type of relationship together, much less a marriage. It would be crazy to even think of Dominique in the role of his wife. She was years younger than him. She was a princess, born and bred to marry an aristocrat. Not a commoner who’d come up the hard way. The two of them were worlds apart in class and age.
He thrust a hand roughly through his black hair as his gaze lifted to the turret that made up Dominique’s bedroom. His desire for her this afternoon had been a shock and for a moment he’d forgotten himself. But he wouldn’t allow his feelings to take control of him a second time. No, he was too old and wise to fall in love again. Especially with a beautiful princess.
Chapter Five
Nearly a week later, Marcus sat in King Michael’s office—a lofty room in the castle that looked down on the river that flowed through Old Stanbury and on to the sea. One whole wall of the elongated room was covered with photos of family and friends. The other three were lined with books, many of which had been handed down through the centuries from one Stanbury generation to the next. Marcus had always liked the room because it represented not only family love and loyalty, but also devotion to one’s country. And even more, he was fond of the room because this was the place he had spent more time than any with Michael Stanbury, his king.
But today, Michael wasn’t sitting behind the wide mahogany desk with a cup of tea in one hand and a phone in the other. It was his son who was diligently trying to fill the throne of Edenbourg.
“I hate to be the one to give you this news, your Highness,” Marcus said to him, “but I’ve just received word that the divers have been sent home. Their commander tells me any more searching would be fruitless. And, frankly, I’m inclined to agree with him. They’ve been searching the waters for more than two weeks now and have so far come up with nothing.”
Across the wide desk, Nicholas looked regretfully at his friend and high counsel.
“Actually, I’m surprised they haven’t thrown in the towel before now,” he told Marcus. “Especially with the squally weather we’ve been having.”
Marcus could see a fatal sort of acceptance settle over Nicholas’s face. It was the same look he’d noticed on most everyone he’d encountered in the castle this past week. Except for Dominique. He’d made a point of not seeing her for any reason.
“I’m sure out of respect for your father none of the rescue team wanted to give up. But in the end common sense has to prevail.”
Nicholas let out a long breath of resignation. “Well, I guess that means the book is closed on the accident now.”
Marcus absently drummed his fingers against his knee. Even though days had passed since he and Dominique had driven out to the cliffs, he’d not shared their suspicions about the accident with anyone. And he was safely sure that she’d not voiced them to anyone either. The knowledge left him feeling oddly connected to her, even though he’d not spoken with her since that day.
“Not necessarily,” Marcus carefully replied. “There’s still hope the autopsy on the driver will uncover some sort of new lead.”
Nicholas tossed down the pen he was holding. “Hell, Marcus, the man burned to death. What more is there for the coroner to say?”
“It’s impossible to predict. Forensic science has taken great strides in the past few years. Who knows, tests might show the driver was drunk.”
Nicholas snorted mockingly. “Herbert drunk? The man was as solid as a rock. The strongest thing he ever drank was tea doused with goat cream.”
Marcus smiled with fond remembrance of the driver who’d been a permanent fixture for as long as he could remember here at Stanbury castle. He’d been a wiry little man in his sixties and had liked to relate tales of his early days in the Royal Navy.
“How do you know Herbert put goat cream in his tea?”
Thoughtful now, Nicholas rubbed a thumb against his chin. “Because I’ve heard Gertie, the cook in the kitchen, scolding him for getting into the cream she used to make cheese.”
“Maybe Gertie wanted to teach him a lesson and put something in the cream to make him sick.”
Marcus had merely been joking but Nicholas seemed to take him seriously. But then everybody had always taken him in a grave sort of way. As though the idea of him making light of anything was impossible. He suddenly wondered if Dominique viewed him in the same manner. Stiff, wooden and incapable of laughing at life.
“Oh no, Marcus. Gertie loved Father. And as far as that goes, Herbert, too. She’s been sick with grief.”
Marcus swiftly shook his head. “I didn’t mean it seriously, Your Majesty. In fact, I know Gertie loved King Michael. Most everyone did.”
I’m afraid I might have to accept the fact that someone out there meant my father harm.
Dominique’s words suddenly shot through his mind like a bullet and for what seemed like the hundredth time today, the vision of her face swam to the forefront of his thoughts. He missed her. Which didn’t make sense. She’d been gone from the palace for four years and he’d gotten accustomed to not seeing her from time to time. Now seven days had passed and he desperately wanted to see her face, hear her voice. But he knew it was best for both of them if he avoided seeing her. So he’d kept to himself and hoped that she was getting on with her life.
“Marcus, I realize you just said you weren’t serious. But are you—is there some little part of you that’s thinking Father’s death might not have been an accident?”
Thankfully, the
king’s office was very private and no one was around to hear Nicholas’s question. Marcus didn’t want such rumors to be flying around the castle, or the city for that matter.
“I’d need to read the autopsy report before I could answer that question.”
King Nicholas gave him a good-natured grin. “Spoken like a true counselor at work. It’s no wonder Father cherished you.”
Marcus couldn’t imagine anyone cherishing him. Maybe his mother. But she’d worked so hard for most of her life that she’d not had much time to show her love to him. As for Marcus’s father, he understood the older man loved him. But he’d often disagreed with Marcus’s choices in life and had openly disapproved of his marriage to Liza. And Liza—well, he wasn’t sure how his ex-wife had felt about him. He seriously doubted she’d loved him utterly and completely. The way a man and woman are supposed to love each other when they’re married. Leaving had been too easy for her.
Pushing the dark thoughts away, he turned his attention back to his new king. “Tell me, Your Highness, how is everyone else in the family feeling about your father’s accident now?”
With a long sigh, Nicholas tilted the leather office chair to a more comfortable position. “All of us believe he’s most likely dead. Except for Dominique. She refuses to accept he’s gone.”
Marcus had asked the question in hopes that he would hear a different answer. But he was not surprised. He knew what Dominique was thinking. He was thinking it himself a bit, too. However, he didn’t want her to hold on to false hope when there might not be any. It would only hurt her in the end.
“She was very close to King Michael,” Marcus reasoned. “Much more so than you and Isabel.”
Nicholas smiled wryly. “Well, she is the baby of the family and I guess Father couldn’t help but dote on her a little. She seemed to understand him far better than Isabel or myself.” His expression suddenly turned anxious and he leaned forward in his chair and looked squarely at Marcus. “Actually, I’m glad the subject of Dominique has come up. I’ve been very worried about her. All of us have been.”
The Expectant Princess Page 6
