Princess in the Making

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“I left a surprise for you,” Gabriel said. “It’s in the top drawer of the desk.”

“What sort of surprise?” she asked, already heading in that direction.

“Well, it won’t be a surprise if I tell you,” he teased. “Look and see.”

She was already opening the drawer. Inside was a credit card with her name on it. She picked it up and sighed. “Gabriel, I appreciate the gesture, but—”

“I know, I know. You’re too proud to take anything from me. But I want to do this for you.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable spending your money. You’re doing enough already.”

“Suppose you see something in the village that you like? I know you have limited funds. I want you to have nice things.”

“I have you, that’s all I need.”

“And that, my dear, is why you are such an amazing woman. And why I love you. Promise me you’ll keep it with you, just in case. I don’t care if it’s five euros or five thousand. If you see something you really want, please buy it.”

“I’ll keep it handy,” she said, dropping it back in the drawer, knowing she would never spend a penny.

“I’ve missed you, Vanessa. I’m eager to start our life together.”

“If I stay,” she reminded him, so he knew that nothing was set in stone yet.

“You will,” he said, as confident and certain as the day he’d asked her to marry him. Then there was the sound of voices in the background. “Vanessa, I have to go. The doctor is here and I need to speak with him.”

“Of course.”

“We’ll chat tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I love you, my sweet Vanessa.”

“I love you, too,” she said, then the call disconnected.

She sighed and set her phone on the desk, hoping there would come a day when she could say those words, and mean them the way that Gabriel did. That there would be a time when the sort of love she felt for him extended past friendship.

It wasn’t that she didn’t find him attractive. There was no doubt that he was an exceptionally good-looking man. Maybe his jaw wasn’t as tight as it used to be, and there was gray at his temples, and he wasn’t as fit as he’d been in his younger years, but those things didn’t bother her. It was what was on the inside that counted. And her affection for him felt warm and comfortable. What was missing was that … zing.

Like the one you felt when you took Marcus’s hand?

She shook away the thought. Yes, Marcus was an attractive man, too, plus he didn’t have the sagging skin, graying hair and expanding waist. He also didn’t have his father’s sweet disposition and generous heart.

When Gabriel held her, when he’d brushed his lips across her cheek, she felt respected and cherished and safe. And okay, maybe those things didn’t make for steamy hot sex, but she knew from personal experience that sex could be highly overrated. What really mattered was respect, and friendship. That’s what was left when the zing disappeared. And it always did.

Men like Marcus thrilled, then they bailed. Usually leaving a substantial mess in their wake. She could just imagine the string of broken hearts he’d caused. But Gabriel was dependable and trustworthy, and that’s exactly what she was looking for in a man now. She’d had her thrills, now she wanted a mature, lasting relationship. Gabriel could give her that. That and so much more, if she was smart enough, and strong enough, to let him.

Four

Marcus was halfway through his second set of laps that evening, the burn in his muscles shaking off the stress that hung on his shoulders like an iron cloak, when he heard his cell phone start to ring. He swam to the side of the pool, hoisted himself up onto the deck and walked to the table where he’d left his phone, the hot tile scorching his feet. It was his father.

He almost didn’t answer. He was sure his father would have spoken to Miss Reynolds by now, and she had probably regaled him with the story of Marcus’s less than warm welcome. The first thing on her agenda would be to drive a wedge between him and his father, which the king would see through, of course. Maybe not right away, but eventually, and Marcus was happy to let her hang herself with her own rope. Even if that meant receiving an admonishment from his father now. So he took the call.

“Father, how is Aunt Trina?”

“Very sick, son,” he said.

His heart sank. He just wasn’t ready to say goodbye to yet another loved one. “What’s the prognosis?”

“It will be touch and go for a while, but the doctors are hoping she’ll make a full recovery.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. No one should ever have to endure so much loss in the span of only eight months. “If there’s anything you need, just say so.”

“There is something, but first, son, I wanted to thank you, and tell you how proud I am of you. And ashamed of myself.”

Proud of him? Maybe he hadn’t spoken to Miss Reynolds after all. Or was it possible that he’d already seen though her scheme and had come to his senses? “What do you mean?”

“I know that accepting I’ve moved on, that I’ve fallen in love with someone new—especially someone so young—has been difficult for you. I was afraid that you might treat Vanessa … well, less than hospitably. But knowing that you’ve made her feel welcome … son, I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you. I should have realized that you’re a man of integrity.”

What the hell had she told him exactly?

Marcus wasn’t sure what to say, and his father’s words, his misplaced faith, filled him with guilt. How would he feel if he knew the truth? And why had she lied to him? What sort of game was she playing? Or was it possible that she really did care about his father?

Of course she didn’t. She was working some sort of angle, that was how her kind always operated.

“Isn’t her daughter precious?” his father said, sounding absolutely smitten. Marcus couldn’t recall him ever using the word precious in any context.

“She is,” he agreed, though he’d seen her do nothing but scream and sleep. “Is there anything pressing I should know about, business that needs tending?”

“There’s no need to worry about that. I’ve decided to fly my staff here and set up a temporary office.”

“That’s really not necessary. I can handle matters while you’re away.”

“You know I would go out of my mind if I had nothing to do. This way I can work and still be with Trina.”

That seemed like an awful lot of trouble for a short visit, unless it wasn’t going to be short. “How long do you expect you’ll be gone?”

“Well, I told Vanessa two weeks,” he said. “But the truth is, it could be longer.”

He had a sudden, sinking feeling. “How much longer?”

“Hopefully no more than three or four weeks.”

A month. There was no question that Trina—family—should come first, but that seemed excessive. Especially since he had a guest. “A month is a long time to be away.”

“And how long did Trina give up her life to stay with us when your mother was ill?”

She had stayed with them for several months in the final stages of his mother’s illness, then another few weeks after the funeral. So he certainly couldn’t fault his father for wanting to stay with her. “I’m sorry, I’m being selfish. Of course you should be there with her. As long as she needs you. Maybe I should join you.”

“I need you at the palace. Since Tabitha will be with me, it will be up to you to see that Vanessa and Mia have anything they need.”

“Of course.” He could hardly wait.

“And I know this is a lot to ask, but I want you to keep them entertained.”

Marcus hoped he didn’t mean that the way it sounded. “Entertained?”

“Make them feel welcome. Take them sightseeing, show them a good time.”

The idea had been to stay away from her as much as humanly possible, not be her tour guide. “Father—”

“I realize I’m asking a lot of you under the circumstances, and I know it will probably be a bit awkward at first, but it will give you and Vanessa a chance to get to know one another. She’s truly a remarkable woman, son. I’m sure that once you get to know her you’ll love her as much as I do.”

Nothing his father could say would make Marcus want to spend time with that woman. And no amount of time that he spent with her would make him “love” her. “Father, I don’t think—”

“Imagine how she and her daughter must feel, in a foreign country where they don’t know a soul. And I feel terrible for putting her in that position. It took me weeks to convince her to come here. If she leaves, she may never agree to come back.”

And that would be a bad thing?

Besides, Marcus didn’t doubt for an instant that she had just been playing hard to get, stringing his father along, and now that she was here, he seriously doubted she had any intention of leaving, for any reason. But maybe in this case absence wouldn’t make the heart grow fonder. Maybe it would give his father time to think about his relationship with Miss Reynolds and realize the mistake he was making.

Or maybe, instead of waiting for this to play out, Marcus could take a more proactive approach. Maybe he could persuade her to leave.

The thought brought a smile to his face.

“I’ll do it,” he told his father.

“I have your word?”

“Yes,” he said, feeling better about the situation already. “You have my word.”

“Thank you, son. You have no idea how much this means to me. And I don’t want you to worry about anything else. Consider yourself on vacation until I return.”

“Is there anyplace in particular you would like me to take her?”

“I’ll email a list of the things she might enjoy doing.”

“I’ll watch for it,” he said, feeling cheerful for the first time in weeks, since his father had come home acting like a lovesick teenager.

“She did mention a desire to tour the village,” the king said.

That was as good a place to start as any. “Well then, we’ll go first thing tomorrow.”

“I can’t tell you what a relief this is. And if ever you should require anything from me, you need only ask.”

Send her back to the U.S., he wanted to say, but he would be taking care of that. After he was through with her, she would be sprinting for the plane. But the key with a woman like her was patience and subtlety.

He and his father hung up, and Marcus dropped his phone back on the table. He looked over at the pool, then up to the balcony of Miss Reynolds’s room. He should give her the good news right away, so she would have time to prepare for tomorrow’s outing. He toweled off then slipped his shirt, shorts and sandals on, combing his fingers through his wet hair as he headed upstairs. He half expected to hear her daughter howling as he approached her room, but the hallway was silent.

He knocked, and she must have been near the door because it opened almost immediately. She had changed into snug black cotton pants, a plain pink T-shirt, and her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She looked even younger this way, and much more relaxed than she had when she stepped off the plane. It struck him again how attractive she really was. Without makeup she looked a little less exotic and vampy, but her features, the shape of her face, were exquisite.