The Prince's Heir

“I’ll be delighted to work around your schedule. What time is convenient for you?”

“How about two o’clock in the lobby of your hotel?”

It was a good choice for him, his turf rather than hers, and it was air-conditioned. After experiencing the Texas heat yesterday, that was most definitely a positive aspect. Yet he felt a vague disappointment that he wouldn’t be returning to the hot, stuffy old house overrun with the Crawford family.

“Two o’clock is fine. The restaurant here is quite good. Will you join me for a late lunch?”

“My family and I eat lunch together after we get home from church.”

Stephan flinched. That comment put him in his place, let him know that he had no part in her family, including any part in the child’s life. He could almost see her as she spoke, her chin tilted upward, eyes glowing with righteous fervor. He supposed he should find her defiance upsetting or, at best, amusing, but somehow he didn’t. Somehow he found it admirable and endearing.

“I’ll see you at two,” he agreed.

He hung up the phone, somehow reluctant to break the connection even as he was a little aghast at how much he was looking forward to seeing her again. This was purely business, of course. He would not—could not—become personally involved to any degree. That sort of thing only caused problems. He’d always known that, been taught that from the cradle, and Lawrence’s fiasco certainly proved it.

He couldn’t avoid seeing Mandy Crawford again, but he could stop himself from looking forward to it. He knew how to control his emotions.

Mandy stood in the elegant lobby of the hotel, tapping her foot on the marble floor. Two o’clock and no prince. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his watch was slow. Maybe they didn’t value punctuality in Castile. But five more minutes and she was out of there.

If he couldn’t even be on time, that surely showed he wasn’t all that interested in Josh. Or maybe it just showed his complete disrespect for her and her family. After all, they weren’t royalty, not even by the American standards of wealth and success. But they were a family, and that counted for more. If he mesasured them differently, then he was using the wrong standards.

“Ms. Crawford. How nice to see you again.”

She whirled at the deep, mellow sound of his voice, the rounded, elegant intonation of his words with that underlying hint of uncivilized ancestry.

And somehow all her righteous anger melted in the depths of his eyes and the width of his smile.

“You’re late,” she snapped, irritated at herself, and taking it out on him. Why not? He was the cause of her problems, wasn’t he?

He glanced at his gold watch then arched a dark eyebrow. “One minute.”

“Oh. Well.” She shifted her shoulder bag.

“Would you join me in a cup of tea? As I mentioned, the restaurant is quite nice.”

“Yes, thank you. That would be...nice.”

He extended one hand in the direction she should go, then placed the other in the vicinity of her waist, almost but not quite touching. She sucked in a quick breath. He might as well be touching her. She could feel the pulsating, vibrant heat from his hand through her cotton dress, and it was all she could do to refrain from letting that heat pull her to him, to lean slightly backward and feel his hand on her body.

She was being ridiculous again, letting her hormones control her brain, take over her imagination.

She walked faster, marching past the huge columns and into the restaurant that would have made Julius Caesar and his cronies feel right at home. A glass wall on one side looked onto a pool surrounded by lush vegetation. Quite nice was a gross understatement

Mandy experienced a single, quick stab of anxiety that she was completely out of her element, in over her head. Without any overt effort, this man compelled her. He was a prince, born to rule. He had money and power. He was right at home in luxurious surroundings like this hotel. He was dangerous.

She sank into the chair the waiter held for her and gave herself a mental slap. She couldn’t afford to lose her perspective. This man had money and power, but she had family and love. He was in over his head.

She started to order a glass of iced tea, then changed it to a cup of hot, the same as Stephan requested.

“Hot sounds good,” she said after the waiter left. “It’s chilly in here.” She rubbed the goose bumps that covered her bare arms. The sleeveless summer dress she’d worn to church was not adequate for the frigid air of the hotel. Stephan, of course, wore a dark suit, white, long-sleeved shirt and a tie, just as he had the day before and probably the day before that. Maybe he even slept in them.

No....

Sitting across from him, surrounded by pompous elegance, she was again struck by the intense savagery that seemed to lie just beneath his cultured veneer. With a clarity she didn’t want, she knew this man slept in the nude.

She folded her hands on the white tablecloth, shoved aside that image and prepared to launch into battle. “Well, Mr. Reynard, or should I call you Your Highness or maybe just Prince?” She bit back a nervous giggle at that thought. Yo, Prince! Sit, Prince! Stay, Prince! Good boy!

He smiled. “Prince? The name you reserve for your dog? I’m flattered. But I insist you call me Stephan. Your country isn’t as formal as mine.”

“Oh, are we playing by my country’s rules?”

“I think that’s appropriate considering we’re in your country.”

“Good. My country doesn’t recognize royalty. Josh was born in this country, to an American citizen. That means he’s an American, and by our rules, he can’t be a prince. That should settle our differences.”

He smiled again and inclined his head in a slight bow. “Touché. Legally speaking, I’m sure you’re correct. Nevertheless, Lawrence’s son is the heir to the throne of my country.”

“So? You never did answer my question. What do you want? Do you think I’m going to just turn him over to you, let you take my son...and he is my son under the laws of my country...let you take him thousands of miles away, raise him in a style his biological father hated? Ruin his life?”

“When I first scheduled this trip over here,” he said, his voice quiet and noncommittal, “I had planned to return with Lawrence’s son—”

“Stop calling him that,” she interrupted. “He’s not just your brother’s son. He’s a person. He has a name. Joshua.”

“Of course,” he acceded. “I had planned to return with Joshua so that he could be raised in the palace and trained for the duties he will one day undertake.”

“Your mom and dad anxious to meet their grandson, are they?” she asked sarcastically.

He stared at her blankly for a moment, his expression confused as if he were trying to comprehend a question couched in a foreign language, then a flash of something else swept across his features. He blinked and it was gone, but just for an instant Mandy could have sworn she glimpsed sadness in his winter eyes. “Of course the king and queen are anxious to meet Lawrence’s—to meet Joshua.”

“They don’t want to meet Joshua. They want to meet the heir. That’s all he is to any of you. Alena told me how Lawrence was raised. One nanny after another, practically having to request an audience to see his parents. How can you want to do that to a little boy?”

“He’s a prince. He has obligations and duties to his people.”

The waiter returned with their teas, and Mandy busied herself adding sugar and lemon, trying to keep her fingers from trembling visibly. She wasn’t going to get anywhere in a head-to-head battle with this man. All she was doing was letting her anger and fear spoil her judgment. She had to be as cool as he was, fight him at his own game...and win. For Joshua’s sake, she had to win.

“This is a beautiful hotel,” she said, searching for a neutral subject to give her a chance to regain her equilibrium. “Is it similar to the hotels in your country?”

Stephan looked around him. “The service, yes. But we are a small country and very steeped in tradition. Even our renovated hotels are about a hundred years behind yours. That was why the king sent Lawrence to America, so he could bring back progressive ideas. We’re badly in need of change.” He smiled wryly. “As the world heads into the twenty-first century, we’ve barely entered the twentieth.”

She didn’t miss the fact that he had, for the second time, referred to his father only as “the king.” After what Alena had told her about Lawrence’s childhood, she wasn’t surprised. Perhaps Stephan was more like his brother than he’d first appeared. Perhaps the fact that he had no real family had occasioned that brief glimpse of sadness she’d seen earlier when she’d mentioned his parents.

“So Lawrence came to America to study progress, and you went to Europe to study history.”

He nodded and sipped his tea.

“Don’t you have a sister? Alena mentioned a sister.

His taut features seemed to relax infinitesimally, and his long fingers curled around the small cup. He had a soft spot beneath that rigid exterior after all. “Yes, I have a younger sister, Schahara”

“And where did she go for her studies?”

“She’s a woman. The queen taught her all she needs to know at home.”

Mandy set her cup on the table so hard a bit of tea sloshed out onto the immaculate white linen. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled. “I told you we needed to learn about progress. In defiance of tradition, my sister has traveled extensively all around the world on her own accord. She’s really the one with the ideas on how to bring about the progress we so desperately need. She’s already computerized the household records and constantly monitors world happenings by using the Internee.”

“You have computers in your country? Computers aren’t nineteenth century.”

He laughed then, a delicious, low sound that traveled from her ears through her body like a curling, rhythmic wave. “We’re not completely primitive. We have electricity and indoor plumbing and even computers, though only the wealthy can afford the luxuries like televisions and computers, and many of our people still live without most or any of the modern conveniences.”

“That’s part of the changes you want to make?”

“A big part. As I said, Schahara has many plans already mapped out. The king wants to maintain the status quo and doesn’t give much heed to her ideas. However, she will be an excellent adviser to the present king’s successor.”

“And who will that be if Joshua doesn’t...um—”

“If he doesn’t return to Castile? Then I’ll succeed to the throne.”

That was the first encouraging bit of news she’d heard since yesterday. “Well, so, wouldn’t you like to be king?”

“It’s not a question of whether I’d like to be the king. It’s a question of who is the rightful heir to the throne.”

“But you would like to be king.”

“I neither like nor dislike the idea. It’s a duty. If I have to perform it, I will, of course. But Lawrence’s son is—”

“Joshua! His name is Joshua Crawford and he’s my legally adopted son and you can’t just throw him over your shoulder and take him off to another country.” She bit her lip and looked down at the table. She was losing control again.

“I assure you, I have no intention of doing that.” And he was completely in control, as always. “Once I met your family, I realized my original plans couldn’t happen. You and I must find a compromise. I’ve given it quite a bit of thought and have decided perhaps both sides would be best served if we could work out an alternating schedule of living arrangements while he’s underage, say six months a year in each country. That would give him a chance to be with your family as well as to learn about his country.”

Mandy’s stomach clenched. She gazed at Stephan in horror. “Divide him up? Tear him in two? Keep him so unbalanced he never feels at home anywhere, never has a chance to settle into either life?”

“Very well, then what do you suggest?”

It was, she decided, time to play her trump card. She had no other choice. She leaned back in her chair and tented her fingers on the tabletop. “I suggest you get to know him and let him get to know you before we make any decisions.”

“That sounds fair.”

“My mother’s cleaning out the guest room for you even as we speak. You can move in tonight and start getting to know your nephew immediately.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment those banked fires she’d imagined she’d seen in his dark gaze sprang to life as awareness surged across the table between them, tingling along her skin and dancing around her breasts.

She swallowed hard and fumbled with her cup, lifting it to her lips and trying to focus on the lukewarm liquid inside rather than Stephan’s scorching gaze.

When she looked back, the distant January skies had returned to that gaze and once again she had to wonder if her imagination and overactive hormones had created a delusion.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll check out of here and move into your guest room tonight for a two-week stay. That should give us time to make all the necessary decisions.” Despite his proper language, his voice was husky and raw and she recalled her earlier certainty that he slept in the nude.

And he’d be sleeping under the same roof as she tonight.

Chapter Three

A number of factors had compelled Stephan to agree to Mandy’s offer—or, more precisely, her challenge—for him to stay in her home. A large part of that decision had sprung unexpectedly from her comments about the way both he and Lawrence had been raised. Until she brought it up—threw it in his face, to be precise—he’d shoved to the back of his mind the way he and his brother and sister had huddled together when they were small children in a big, cold palace, ignored by their parents, clinging to each other. Lawrence had been the oldest and the first to recognize that dependence on the succession of nannies was futile. He’d shared that knowledge with his younger siblings, pointing out that they were royalty and couldn’t afford to become attached to people.

Certainly Stephan realized that a prince had to be rational and avoid sentimentality. Even so, he couldn’t simply take this child off to a foreign country and into the midst of strangers. It was imperative he get to know him first. Joshua wouldn’t even have a brother or sister to cling to.

But there was more to his decision, something elemental underlying the battle he and Mandy were waging, something that tugged at him and drew him to her, something that stirred his blood and tightened his groin. That something had him speeding to her house with his suitcases in the trunk of his rental car, anticipation and dread sharing equal space in his chest.

When he pulled up in front of the big old house, he wasn’t surprised to see the entire family sitting on the porch, drinking that strange iced tea. Mandy, her mother, grandmother, younger sister, a tall older man with reddish hair streaked with white, who must be Mandy’s father, a younger man with auburn hair who was holding hands with a smiling brunette—undoubtedly the brother and his wife—along with Joshua and the mongrel they called Prince. At least he didn’t have to worry about giving in to any of those lustful tuggings for Mandy, not with that many people around.

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