The Expectant Princess

Her frown deepened as she considered his words. “She’s just so damn unfeeling at times I want to scream.”

He smiled indulgently. “Your mother was bred to be strong. No matter what was thrown her way.”

“Maybe so. But I happen to think the people of Edenbourg expect to see a queen weeping with tears of loss for her husband.”

He turned his head slightly and looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “Because that’s what you want to see from her?”

Dominique thought about his question for a moment. “I only know if I’d been married to a man for thirty-three years and borne him three children, I’d be stricken with grief.”

Yes, he could see where Dominique would be different from her mother, Marcus thought. Josephine was a rigidly controlled woman, whereas Dominique had appeared to grow into a passionate person. And something told him that if she did ever give her heart to a man, it would be totally, not just halfway.

“Perhaps Josephine just hides her emotions well. Some of us do.”

A glance at him suddenly reminded her of how close together the confines of the British car had put them. His shoulder was only a hand’s span from hers, and even though the vinyl top was up and the day overcast, she was near enough to see the pores in his skin and the faint afternoon shadow of his dark beard. He’d changed into khakis and a pale yellow oxford shirt. The cuffs were rolled back against forearms lightly fuzzed with fine black hair. The collar and first button of the shirt were not fastened and to her own dismay she found herself trying to peep between the loosened folds of fabric.

“Does that mean when you were going through your divorce you kept your feelings hidden? Even from your family?” she asked him.

The road had become steep and narrow. Marcus downshifted the car and kept his gaze firmly on the oncoming traffic.

“My family is just my father now. I have no brothers or sisters, if you recall. Mother died a couple years back. Complications from diabetes. At the time of my divorce, Father really wasn’t in any shape to deal with all my problems. I kept most of them concealed from him. Thankfully, we’re both doing better now.”

Was he? Dominique wondered. He’d just admitted to keeping his feelings to himself. Maybe he was still grieving for his wife and child. Maybe the pain was hidden from his eyes and camouflaged by his brief smiles. The idea bothered her greatly and she wondered just who or what it would take to get inside Marcus Kent.

Nearly thirty minutes passed before they reached the spot where the king’s car had crashed through the heavy metal railing that guarded the narrow, twisting highway.

Because the police and other intelligence forces were still investigating the site, the road was blocked and the cliffside cordoned off with bright yellow tape. Marcus was forced to leave the MGB far back down the mountain road and the two of them walked the remaining distance until stopped by an officer in a dark blue uniform.

Marcus quickly presented him with his identification and then Dominique’s. After studying it closely, the young officer went from abrupt and suspicious to embarrassed and fumbling all over himself.

“I didn’t realize you were with the royal family,” he said, then blushing, he swept off his hat and glanced sheepishly at Dominique. “I mean, I didn’t recognize you, Princess Dominique. Nor you, Mr. Kent.”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing your job and making no exceptions,” Marcus assured him. “Is it all right if we have a look around? We’ll try not to disturb anything or get in the way.”

“Of course,” he said, then practically clicking his heels with attention, he lifted the tape to usher them under. “I’ll let everyone else know who you are so that you won’t be bothered.”

The two of them thanked the officer then moved on. As they walked, Marcus teased, “How does it feel to be an unrecognized princess?”

She smiled. “Actually, I like it. I’ve never wanted to be fawned over. As if I were more special than the next person. I’m not. I happened to be born to the king and queen. If not for that, I’d be just like any other woman in Edenbourg.”

No, Marcus thought. She would never be like just any woman in this small country. Or anywhere else for that matter. She had a regal bearing, a beauty and compassion about her that made her stand out above others. The fact that she was so unpretentious made her even more appealing as a person.

Suddenly aware that she was no longer at his side, he paused and glanced back to see she’d stopped on the soggy cliffside. Her hands were planted on slender hips encased in dark blue jeans. A puzzled frown creased her forehead as she studied the highway running several yards up above them.

Stepping back to her, he asked, “What are you thinking?”

Watching her draw a deep breath, then let it out slowly, Marcus decided this whole place was cutting into her with vicious reality. Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring her out here, he thought ruefully. But for the past few days he’d watched her struggle to understand why she was now without her father. He wanted to help her come to grips with the accident and he’d hoped this little trip might help.

She looked at him thoughtfully. “It suddenly struck me that this particular road isn’t the only route Father could have taken to the abbey the morning of the christening. In fact, the other road is shorter. And being inland, it’s not nearly as treacherous as this.”

He nodded in agreement. “I had already considered that, Dominique. And you’re right. But for some reason King Michael must have chosen this route. Or he might have simply allowed the driver to choose which road he wanted to travel. I’ve seen him do that often in the past. Especially when he has business on his mind.”

“You could be right,” Dominique said as she glanced around her. “Mother does admit that he had some sort of last-minute business to attend to that morning. That’s the reason he sent her on to the abbey without him. I just wonder what could have been so important.”

Marcus’s gazed drifted out to the choppy sea. “No one seems to know. There weren’t any messages left on his phone. No scribbled notes on his desk. The night before, he didn’t mention anything to me. I’ve tried to think of a pressing issue that might have come up suddenly, but I keep coming up with a blank.”

Dominique sighed as she fought with strands of hair whipping into her face. It was a raw afternoon and she was glad she’d taken the time to change into jeans and a green, long-sleeved sweater. The tangy salt air had nipped her cheeks and nose and she knew without looking they had already turned as pink as her bare fingers.

Stuffing her hands into her jeans’ pockets for warmth, she looked at Marcus and said, “Well, I can’t help thinking the business might have had something to do with him traveling this road.”

Shrugging a shoulder, he said, “You could be right, Dominique. But it would be impossible to make any sort of connection, unless we can figure out who or what King Michael had been attending to that morning.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “And don’t you find it a bit more than strange that Jake Stanbury was traveling this same road? From what he’s saying, he couldn’t have been but a few minutes behind the accident.”

“Yes. But with only his two-year-old son to corroborate his story, I’m not sure I want to put that much stock in it,” Marcus admitted ruefully.

“Neither do I,” Dominique agreed. “Edward and Luke’s whereabouts seem fishy to me, too. Edward told Mother they had stopped off somewhere downtown before driving on to the abbey that morning. But I heard Luke say they were still at the airport when the accident occurred.” She shook her head regretfully. “It’s awful to be suspicious of your own relatives, Marcus. Especially when they’ve all continued to be so kind to us.”

“I’m hoping Edward and his sons are truly here to make amends with the family. And so far I haven’t detected anything to doubt their sincerity. But I’m not going to close my eyes completely where those three men are concerned.”

The mere notion that her American relatives might have some connection to her father’s accident sent a shiver of icy disbelief down Dominique’s spine.

Sensing her distress, Marcus put a steadying hand against her back and urged her away from the edge of the cliffs. “Come along. Let’s take a closer look and see what we can find before we start incriminating anyone.”

Chapter Three

The side of the cliff Dominique and Marcus were climbing was mostly grassy slopes broken up by rocky crevices and huge jagged boulders. At the point where the car had left the highway, it had traveled for several yards on smooth grass. The deep ruts from the tire tracks were still evident in the soggy turf.

The two of them noted the tracks were strangely straight, as though the driver hadn’t tried to cut the wheel to the right or the left in an attempt to halt the car’s destructive downward path.

At the end of the ruts, they reached a ledge of rock. Peering over the edge, they found a vertical drop of at least twenty feet to a bed of more jagged rocks. Black stains marred several of the boulders and from the plowed-up condition of the ground around them, Dominique knew this was where the car had made its final plunge before it crashed and burned.

The idea of her father and his driver perishing on the wild sea cliff was almost too much for Dominique. With a cry of anguish, she turned to Marcus and buried her face against his chest.

“Oh, Marcus, I can’t believe my father died down there.”

His arms came around her and pressed her against the warming comfort of his body. Her slender shoulders were trembling and her fingers clutched at his shirtfront. Never before had Marcus wanted to take away someone’s pain so badly. Dominique was too soft, too precious to ever hurt this much.

Pressing his cheek against the top of her head, he whispered, “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Seeing this place is only causing you more grief.”

Dominique wanted to burst into sobs, but she bit them back and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. He believed she was distraught over her father. And she was. Yet she couldn’t confide the whole truth of the matter to him. She couldn’t tell him that losing her father was only a part of the worries weighing down on her shoulders.

Marcus was a gentleman. A man of honor and integrity. He was going to be shocked and disappointed that she’d not behaved in a manner of her breeding. His opinion of her, which had always meant so much, was going to nose-dive. Once he found out about her condition, he would probably shun her. And she wasn’t quite ready for that. She needed his strength. More than he could ever know.

Shaking her head, she gulped down a sob. Then with another determined swallow, she leaned her head back far enough to allow her a view of his face. The wind had whipped his black hair across his forehead and ruddied his dark complexion. Compassion and regret clouded his golden-brown eyes, making her feel even more ashamed of herself.

“No,” she said hoarsely. “Please don’t feel badly about bringing me here. I’m glad you did.”

He frowned. “Glad? You’re trembling like a leaf, Dominique. You’re upset.”

“Yes. But I’m also a little relieved.”

His expression somber, he studied her face for long moments. “Because now you can accept that your father is really dead?”

“No. Because now I’m more certain than ever that he didn’t perish in this accident.”

His hand lifted to tenderly stroke her windblown hair. “Dominique,” he began doubtfully, “I know that you—”

Before he could finish, she twisted around in the circle of his arms and motioned toward the sight farther below them to where the ocean crashed upon the rock-strewn shoreline. Some distance out, several Coast Guard vessels bobbed on the cold, frothy waters of the North Sea.

“For the past seven days, special divers have been searching for a sign of King Michael’s body or a part of the remains,” she said. “So far they have found nothing. And I don’t believe they will.”

Marcus was trying to concentrate on her words, but it was a very hard thing to do when the warmth of her slender curves was radiating into his. Her hair carried the scent of wildflowers and tangy sea air and he found himself wanting to put his hands on her shoulders and draw her back against him. He wanted to dip his face into her hair, press his cheek against the regal line of her throat and draw in the womanly smell of her skin.

Dear Lord, he was losing all common sense, he thought. He wasn’t some sort of Romeo that chased after women years younger than himself. He didn’t chase after women period. In fact, since Liza had divorced him, he’d vowed never to let his head be turned by another one.

Allowing himself to think such physical thoughts about Dominique scared him like nothing had in ages. It was indecent and improper and downright crazy on his part. He had to get a grip on himself and fast.

Gruffly, he cleared his throat, then purposely set her aside from him. Staring out at the rough seas, he forced himself to remember his dead king and the allegiance he owed him even now.

“What makes you think they won’t find King Michael’s body? Do you know something all these investigators don’t?” he asked her.

She flushed at his question, but refused to relent. “I know it probably sounds absurd to you, Marcus. I’m just a naive young woman who doesn’t know anything about accident scenes or investigations. But King Michael is my father. And I know I would feel something more if he were truly dead. Something inside would tell me to let him go and say goodbye. Besides,” she added more firmly, “just take a look down there where the car finally landed. The whole area is surrounded by high boulders. It would be highly improbable that his body continued to roll down to the sea. The rocks would have prevented such a thing.”

Trying to keep an open mind about all points of view was one of the reasons Marcus had risen to the lofty position of king’s high counsel. Not that his quick intelligence hadn’t helped. It had. But smartness wasn’t the final thing that had propelled him into the prestigious job. It had been his ability to look at things from all angles that had singled him out and set him above the others serving on the king’s administrative staff.

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