The Royal and The Runaway Bride

She remembered Robert’s words as he spoke to her friend Jessy and the cruel sound of his laughter, slurred by too much alcohol. “Love Alex? You’ve got to be kidding. But marrying her is well worth the sacrifice of my freedom in exchange for all I’ll gain from Connelly Corporation.”

She remembered every word as clearly as if he stood before her now, speaking them anew. Oh how she wished she’d listened to Justin’s words of warning. He knew that Robert was a womanizer, that Robert was just using her. Why hadn’t she seen the man for what he was? Tears filled her eyes as she slept.

A hand brushed the dampness from cheek. She blinked her eyes open.

Phillip bent over her, his honey-colored eyes concerned. “Is the pain bad?”

“No,” she whispered.

“It hurts enough to cry.”

She shook her head. “That’s something else. I’m being silly. Never mind.”

He frowned, obviously confused, but she wasn’t about to explain her aborted wedding to him.

“I’ve arranged for you to stay here,” he said.

“What?” She looked up at him, astonished. “Why would I want to do that?”

“You were injured on my property, so I’m responsible for your recovery. I intend to see to your care.”

“I see. And that will soothe your conscience?”

“Conscience aside, it’s only right.”

“I don’t know…” She tried to pull herself into a sitting position, but a sudden tightness in her shoulder promised pain she didn’t want to feel and she settled back down against the pillows. “The doctor said I’ll be fine walking around as long as I don’t move this.” She glanced sideways at her shoulder, resting in the white cotton sling. “He expects I’ll be pretty much back to normal in a couple of weeks.”

“I suppose you’d be more comfortable back in Chicago, in your own home.”

Back at Lake Shore Manor, she thought dismally, her parents’ home. Not in the house she had planned to share with Robert, before her dreams had shattered.

“I suppose,” she murmured.

“Oh, I almost forgot. The palace aide left a note for you.” He held out a folded piece of paper.

It was a telephone message taken by one of the palace secretaries in a pointy European-style script. It was from Robert. As she read it, ice crystals formed in her heart.

“Not bad news, I hope?” he asked.

Very bad news. Robert wanted her to come home. Robert wanted to explain his flirtation with Kimberly Lindgren and his disturbing comments to Jessy, to make things right, to try again and set a new date for the wedding.

Fat chance, buddy, she thought, tears nearly coming to her eyes again. She hadn’t known him as well as she’d thought she did. Just well enough to realize that the words he’d spoken to her maid of honor the night before their wedding were from the heart and true to his character.

Robert didn’t love her. Perhaps she’d sensed that from the start but refused to admit it to herself. She had so desperately wanted love, marriage, a family of her own, and there he was offering her these things in his oh-so-charming way. But he loved only what she could bring him—wealth, her father’s power and influence, a future of success that depended little on his own effort or ingenuity.

And if she didn’t return to Chicago, what then? He would come after her. She was certain of that much because he was a determined man. Without her, without their marriage, he had nothing but a midmanagement position with her father’s company. That is, if Grant didn’t fire him outright once she explained to her parents her sudden disappearance from Chicago. She hadn’t yet found the strength to talk about her reasons for walking out on Robert on the eve of their wedding. Nor had she found the nerve to face Robert again. But she could at least make it difficult for him to find her until she was ready to face him.

“I’ll stay,” she said quickly.

“Really?” Phillip looked surprised after her earlier refusal.

“Yes,” she said and slid him a playful smile. “If only to milk your guilt.”

He grimaced. “It wasn’t my intention that you fall!”

“I know that,” she said, settling back against a fluffy pillow. “Still, if you should feel a teensy bit responsible you could bring me a cup of that wonderful smelling bouillabaisse you promised.”

He grinned. “It’s as good as done.”

Phillip didn’t know how long he could keep Alex in resting mode. She was like a little kid, constantly trying to find excuses to leave the couch when she was supposed to be quiet and not stress her shoulder. Although he could easily have asked his housekeeper or any one of the others on his staff to fetch things for her, he felt obligated to wait on her, personally. His employees found this highly entertaining, but he didn’t care. He’d make sure she gave her shoulder a chance to heal if it killed him.

By the time he returned to the parlor on the third day of her stay, carrying a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and a plump raisin scone, she was sitting on the edge of the settee.

“The doctor said you should rest. Lie down and I’ll pour for you,” he offered.

“I’m uncomfortable,” she complained, pouting at him. “Too much of this lying around must be bad for the circulation. I want to go outside.” She peered out the window. “It looks beautiful out there.”

“Rest,” he said.

“I could rest just as well on the chaise lounge on the terrace, I’ll bet my shoulder would warm up in the sunshine and heal faster.” She started to stand up.

He set the tray down with a sigh. “Very well, the terrace it is.”

She laughed at him as he scooped her up in his arms and strode out the open French doors into the Mediterranean sunshine. He deposited her on a cushioned chaise and looked down at her. “Better?”

“Much,” she said. “Thank you.”

He smiled, pleased he’d been able to once more delay her restlessness.

“Wait here. I’ll go get the tea.”

When he returned, she had rearranged her thin white cotton robe worn over a sea-green bikini to bare her long legs. He drew a sharp breath at the tug in his loins. She was stunning—the contrast between her pale ivory skin and her cropped, black hair. Her emerald eyes flashed up at him. He gulped. Unable to say what was really on his mind, he blurted out, “Sunscreen. I forgot the sunscreen.”

She shook her head at him. “Stop fussing over me. I’m fine.”

She was a darn sight more than just fine, Phillip thought when he returned, drew up a chair beside hers, and watched her smooth lotion from her toes, over her ankles, then up her calves, thighs and hips. Lust curled up hot and ready inside of him. He didn’t think he could risk staying with her any longer.

“If you’re comfy now,” he said, coughing to clear his suddenly tight throat, “I have some business I should attend to.”

“You can’t stay and keep me company?” she asked.

“If you want someone to talk to, I can send to the castle for someone.”

“Most of the guests would have left by now,” she said. “Besides, I don’t like them.”

“Any of them?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like rich people.”

He laughed. “I’m not exactly a pauper, woman, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re different,” she said, smoothing another dollop of lotion across the flat of her stomach, then circling her fingertips around her belly button. He followed the sensuous motion of her fingers with fascination. “You don’t put on airs and spend money for the thrill of it.”

“How do you know so much about me?”

“I’m good at figuring out people.” With one tragic exception, she thought, then chased that sad part of her life from her mind. Robert was no longer a concern. She had put him out of her life. “It’s sort of a hobby of mine, studying people and, sometimes, pretending to be like them.”

She tipped her head to one side and observed him, wondering if he’d take her hint. After all, sooner or later she’d have to tell him who she really was.

“Why is that?” Phillip asked.

“Whenever life gets boring you just step into someone else’s shoes.”

“I suspect it might be more than that,” he said thoughtfully. “Some people experiment with different roles because they’re trying to find out who they really are.”

She laughed, gave her head a shake and sipped her tea. Then she stared at him long and hard. “You think so?”

“Could be in your case. Maybe being a horse trainer isn’t what you’d most like to be.”

“But I love horses,” she objected, clinging to her role out of sheer stubbornness.

“And you were doing great with Eros. But that doesn’t mean your heart doesn’t yearn for something more than coddling wealthy folks’ pets.” She pouted at him, and he wished he could figure out what she was thinking at that moment. He suspected she was more than a little embarrassed by having taken the fall. “Never mind. Eros is a troubled spirit. If he hadn’t wanted you on him, he would have lost you long before that jump, despite all your experience.”

She considered that for a moment and felt a happy little thrill inside of her. She had done well, hadn’t she? Alex put down her teacup. “Do you know what I want more than anything?”

“A blueberry scone instead of the raisin?”

She waved him off. “No, silly. I mean, what I really, really want in life.”

“Oh, now we’re into the heavy stuff.” He shook his head, mocking her, and sat back down on the edge of her chaise to listen.

“I’m serious.” She straightened up, seized his hand and brought it into her lap. At once, he was conscious of the warmth of her flesh beneath the thin robe. “I want to be someone who makes a difference. I want to do something special and important with my life.”

“I’d say you have every opportunity to do that,” he commented. “Just choose. There are plenty of charities out there.”

“No!” she shouted, startling him with the emotion and strength in her voice. “That’s just it. I don’t want to chair committees or sponsor fund-raisers like rich women. I want to do things, not oversee others as they do them.”

He nodded. The urge was all too familiar. Hadn’t he felt restless, hemmed in by his estate and people’s expectations of him? He didn’t have to work to keep a roof over his head. He could travel anywhere he pleased. Yet he felt discontent.

“Do you know where Silverdorn is?” he asked her suddenly.

“You mean, your kingdom, Prince?” She shook her head.

“It no longer exists. At one time it was a small region on the border between France and Italy, a much-contested territory. My family lost it to other monarchs centuries ago, but we have retained our titles as tradition allows.”

She giggled.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded, offended that his family’s plight seemed humorous to her.

“You’re…homeless?”

He smiled slowly. “Not homeless…but country-less, yes. That does sound ridiculous, doesn’t it? Someone with as much wealth and property to be without a country.”

She was laughing harder now. “The homeless prince. Oh, oh God— Ouch!”

“Hurts, huh? Serves you right for making fun of the less fortunate,” he teased.

She cradled her aching shoulder with her good arm. “Cut it out. You’ll make me laugh harder.”

Tears formed in her pretty eyes, and Phillip perversely felt like doing something to make them shine even more. He reached out, making tickling motions with his fingers as he neared her stomach, and her eyes widened in panic.

“Don’t you dare! No fair torturing the wounded.”

“I think you’re far less wounded than you pretend,” he accused. “In fact, you’re so used to acting out roles, you probably don’t know who you really are.”

The look on her face stunned him to silence. Her laughter immediately ceased. Pushing herself up off the chaise with a flinch of pain, she walked away from him down the terrace steps toward the water.

“Alex, what did I say?” he called after her. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

She tugged her robe closer around her body and moved stiffly down the steps as he chased after her. “Just leave me alone.”

“No. Obviously I’ve hit on a sore spot. I’m sorry. I really am. Tell me why what I said offended you.”

She shook her head and kept on walking. He caught up to her with no trouble, as she was slowed down by her shoulder.

“Alex?” He stepped in front of her. There were tears again, but not happy ones. Her face was contorted in a secret agony. He carefully enfolded her in his arms, taking care not to put pressure on her injured shoulder. “Tell me. I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

She drew a shuddering breath and rested her cheek against his chest. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t know who I am. Not really.”

“But that was just a joke. You’re an excellent trainer, I’m sure. You just had a bad day. Besides, you’re too intelligent a woman not to know who you are.”

She looked up at him, green fire in her eyes. “Do you, Phillip? Do you know who you are?

“I’m not sure what you mean.” He was suddenly aware of the heat of her body, of the luscious curves, hollows and soft swells that were her breasts and hips. She was tucked into his body, and the scant clothing she wore seemed inconsequential protection. He was aroused.

Rotten timing, Kinrowan, he thought ruefully.

“You are a prince by title, without a kingdom. How else would you define yourself?” she demanded.

He didn’t know. “Well, I’m a man who loves horses and competes by jumping them. And I’ve always been fascinated by sailing and I have several boats.”

“I’m not talking about things you own,” she said sharply. “I’m talking about who you are, deep in your soul.”

He was at a loss. What was she talking about?

She pulled away from him to pace the path between the grand house and the intoxicatingly blue ocean. “All right. I’ll give you an example. Say there’s this young woman who has been raised in a wealthy family. All of her life, she’s had everything she ever wanted. Money was no object. All of her friends were rich, too. Because that’s the way people are. They group themselves by financial status, always wanting to be with their own kind, never wanting to associate with anyone with less in their bank accounts or who go to less prestigious schools.”

He wasn’t sure who she was talking about, but he didn’t interrupt her to ask.

“And this young woman wants more than anything to be special, not because of her father’s money, but because of something she herself can do or be. Something that’s her very own and from her heart. Only she can’t be special because she doesn’t know what that something is.” Her voice was so tight, he feared it might snap like a fragile crystal goblet.

She blinked up at him. “Or maybe she’s just someone who works in stables, but she still wants to be special. Then she thinks she finds it when she falls in love. And she begins to believe that she will be happy with the man she’s chosen, and they will have children together and live as anyone else in love does, regardless of how much or how little money they have. Because their love will transport them above the crudeness of the financial and social worlds they’ve been stuck in all of their lives.” She went dead silent, so suddenly it took him by surprise.

“That’s a lovely dream,” he said quietly, not knowing what else to say. That last bit, he realized, she’d been talking about herself. “And does she find happiness with her true love?”

“She does, for a while. In fact, she follows the dream perfectly—choosing her bridesmaids, selecting a beautiful gown, ordering the cake and designing a lovely summer wedding on the lakeside. She is in heaven, or so she thinks, and then…” Her voice trailed off and tears flowed down her cheeks. Phillip ached to hold her again, but he sensed she wouldn’t allow him to comfort her.

“And then,” he guessed, “the creep did something unspeakably horrible to spoil her dream.”

“The creep did indeed.” She angrily dashed the tears away with the heel of her hand. “I—she heard him talking to her maid of honor. Flirting. Bragging, really. He’d had too much to drink after the rehearsal party and he told the bride’s best friend that he was, in effect, marrying her for her—for her connection with the Connellys.”

“I see.” He felt her pain as his own. The story was too close to his experience with marriage. He didn’t want to hear the rest, but there was no stopping Alex. She dropped the pretense of disguising the bride as if she were someone other than herself.

“Of course, when I confronted him, he just laughed off my anger. He claimed he was just trying to shock Jessy. It was all a game, or so he said.”

“But you knew it was true,” he put in.

“Yes, it was all very clear suddenly. There were things he’d said and done while we were dating that I’d chosen to ignore or forgive. Suddenly they all made sense. He had even gone so far as to put off our honeymoon so that he could complete a project he was working on for Grant Connelly.”

“I can’t imagine any man not wanting to honeymoon with you, Alex,” he murmured, then bit his lip. Where had that come from?

She didn’t seem to have heard him. “There were other things. I knew he’d been using me, and I could see our future. I’d be just like so many of my girlfriends who married for what they thought was love, only to find they were assets. I couldn’t bear to be used that way.”

“So you walked out on him.”

“Yes. I did.” She looked down at her folded hands, her eyes dry now. “That phone message from several days ago. It was from him. From Robert.”

He could feel how difficult it was for her to even mention his name. “He wants to reconcile?”

She nodded. “Predictable. He’s not one to give up easily.”

“How has your family taken all of this?”

She shrugged. “They want me to be happy. The thing is, I haven’t told them yet what my reasons were for walking out on the wedding. When and if I do, I know they’ll support my decision.”

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