The Monarch's Son

The child looked from the stranger to his father. “This is Alison Carter. She got into trouble with the serpent and isn’t feeling well,” Lorne explained.

The little boy nodded gravely. “I know to be very careful of the serpent and only swim with my nanny.”

Allie couldn’t help smiling. With huge dark eyes that shone like stars and skin the color of honey, Nori looked utterly captivating. The mischief dancing in his expression only made him look more appealing. “Maybe I should only swim with my nanny, too,” she agreed.

The little boy looked scornful. “You’re too big to have a nanny. When I’m big, I won’t have one, either.”

Allie laughed. “How old are you, Nori?”

“I’m a big boy now. I’m four.” He held up three chubby fingers, the little finger and thumb curling into his palm.

Without stopping to think, Allie straightened the little finger alongside Nori’s extended fingers. “This many fingers make four.”

The child frowned. “I know that. I was teasing.”

It ran in the family, she thought. Taking the child’s hand had brought her close enough to Lorne to feel the whisper of his breath against her cheek, bringing with it another trace of the masculine French aftershave lotion mingling with his own compelling male scent. The combination spoke of balmy walks under the stars and moonlit swims and endless nights in the arms of a lover. She blinked hard. The experience of nearly drowning must be affecting her more than she realized.

The moment was shattered when a solidly built man in a white shirt and dark trousers lumbered up to them. “I’m sorry about the interruption, Your Highness. Nori insisted on seeing you and took off before his nanny or I could stop him.”

Shock rippled through Allie and her legs started to buckle. Your Highness? No wonder Lorne had expected her to recognize him. A detail she had barely absorbed from the guide book came rushing back to her: de Marigny was the name of Carramer’s ruling family. She had gatecrashed the royal residence. If she hadn’t been so groggy from her ordeal she would probably have recognized his name.

You take the lead. In her head she replayed her own foolish words and his imperious reply. I usually do. At least she hadn’t called him Lorne. The penalty for that was probably beheading with a rusty sword or some such. It was a wonder he hadn’t called his guards instead of coming to her aid himself when she washed up at his feet. As it was, she couldn’t have made a bigger fool of herself if she’d tried.

“It seems I owe you an apology, Your Highness. I had no idea,” she said, holding her anger in check with difficulty. He might have told her the truth and saved her a lot of embarrassment, but she could hardly say anything without making matters worse.

He waved away her concern. “It was a novel experience not to be recognized.”

Her blood began to boil, threatening to overrule common sense. “I’m glad I provided a diversion, Your Highness. Court jesters must be in short supply in Carramer.”

Her anger evidently caught him by surprise. “Contrary to what you think, I wasn’t amusing myself at your expense. I had intended to introduce myself properly as soon as you were fully recovered.”

“Then you’d better tell me now,” she urged. “I don’t want to make a bigger fool of myself than I’ve already managed to do.”

Although she spoke softly, the security man looked startled. Evidently people didn’t speak to members of the royal family like that very often. Before Lorne could speak, he said in awed tones, “I have the honor to present His Highness, Prince Lorne de Marigny, ruler of the sovereign islands of Carramer.” The man sounded astonished that such a self-evident fact needed stating.

She felt faint again but this time it had less to do with the pounding she had taken in the surf than with the impact of the man standing beside her, his arms around an adorable four-year-old who must be the heir to the throne of Carramer. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off as she said, “You’re the ruler of the whole country?”

Lorne nodded, his black eyes shining. “So it would seem.”

The combined effect of her ordeal and the discovery that she had been rescued by the monarch himself combined to overwhelm her precarious hold on consciousness. The security man’s startled cry and Lorne’s barked command to take the child from him were the last things she heard before she saw the sand rushing up toward her.

Chapter Two

As Lorne scooped up Alison’s inert body, he automatically reassured his son. “It’s all right, Nori. Miss Carter is only tired because of her fight with the serpent. Return to the house with Robert and I’ll bring Miss Carter myself.” To his aide he added quietly, “Have the doctor meet us there.”

The bodyguard was too well trained to argue the prince’s edict, but his eyes were full of questions as he took Nori and hurried toward the villa. Lorne knew he had always been something of a hands-on ruler, but it was unusual for him to take such a personal interest in a stranger even if she was inordinately beautiful. Of course, most strangers didn’t wash up on the beach at his feet, he admitted to himself.

Alison didn’t stir when he held her in his arms for the second time in an hour. Much more of this and it could get to be a habit. He frowned as he took in the paleness of her features. They were already finely drawn, and her pallor added to his impression that he held a life-size porcelain doll.

Smudges of violet rimmed her huge sea-green eyes. He felt annoyed with himself for letting her talk instead of insisting she see his doctor right away. Who knew what damage her brush with the serpent had done?

He had allowed her to talk because he had enjoyed it, he acknowledged inwardly, crossing the white sand in long strides until he reached a row of ironwood trees fringing the beach. Meeting a woman on equal terms was a rare experience in his world, where almost everyone knew who he was at first sight and invariably reacted with deference. It had come as a shock to realize that Alison had no idea of his position. Then he had started to enjoy being treated as a man rather than a monarch.

Fool, he berated himself. Hadn’t he learned anything from his experience with Nori’s mother? Chandra had been Australian, too, and as refreshing in her way as Alison was in hers when they met during an official visit to her country. He had fallen in love with the former Miss Australia and against the advice of his ministers, had brought Chandra back to Carramer as his bride.

The fantasy had lasted only long enough for her to realize that, unlike her reign as Miss Australia, her duties as a member of Carramer’s royal family wouldn’t end after a year. During one of their more spectacular arguments, she had assured Lorne that attaining the title of princess had been her ambition all along. Having achieved it, she could see no reason to put up with the duties attending the title.

Motherhood had proved even more of a burden and she had readily handed their son over to a nanny until Lorne stepped in, taking an active role as the baby’s father. Chandra simply hadn’t cared about either of them, preferring to fly off to Paris where she could attend the latest fashion showings and revel in the attention she received as a princess without the inconvenience of royal duties.

In desperation Lorne had reduced her allowance, forcing her to stay at home for longer periods, only to be accused of being a tyrant with no thought for her needs and feelings. Over time, she found almost everything about the island kingdom disagreeable—including their marriage, leaving Lorne feeling more alone than he had ever felt when he was single.

Chandra also grew increasingly resentful of the attention Lorne devoted to their baby and retaliated by criticizing everything to do with Carramer. His country could never compete with Australia in her eyes. He had become sick of hearing how much better everything was in Australia. Yet he couldn’t do the one thing Chandra really wanted him to do—free her from their marriage vows so she could enjoy being a princess without any other ties.

In his country marriage was a union for life. Only in the most dire of circumstances could separation be considered. There was no such thing as divorce. A couple might live apart, but they would be bound together until death. Chandra had demanded that Lorne change the laws, but having seen the effects of divorce on children in other countries, he couldn’t bring himself to institute it in Carramer, not even for his wife. Had they not been royal, he could have allowed her to live apart from him, but he had no intention of setting such a poor example for his people.

A furrow etched his brow. If he had changed the law, would Chandra be alive today? He would never know. He only knew that another fierce argument had resulted in her flight away from the villa at reckless speed, ending when her car went out of control on a cliff top, sending the car crashing to the surf below. Chandra had found her release but in a way that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The woman in his arms moaned softly, drawing his attention. While they talked, her long hair had dried into a curtain of nut-brown curls that now fanned out against his shoulder. Silken strands of it twined around his fingers. He caught himself wondering at how little she weighed, surely not much more than Nori. The feel of her lithe body against him reminded him unwillingly that it had been a year since Chandra died, a long time for a man of his strong appetites to be without the company of a woman.

The frown returned. What was it about Alison Carter that made him so aware of his celibate life? After Chandra he knew better than to involve himself with a woman not of his own kind, especially another Australian. What was their expression? Once bitten, twice shy. It definitely applied to him. And he wasn’t so starved for female attention that any woman would turn his thoughts in the same direction.

There was something about this woman that affected him in ways he preferred not to think about, he knew. The sooner his doctor cleared her to be on her way, the better for all of them.

When Lorne reached the villa, Dr. Pascale was pacing the marble terrace, his expression anxious. As soon as he saw Lorne, he gestured for servants to relieve the prince of his burden. Lorne gave Alison up to them with a reluctance he didn’t care to examine too closely.

“Take her to the Rose Suite,” he instructed. Of all the guest suites in the villa, it was the most beautiful. An artist would appreciate waking up in such surroundings, he thought. To the doctor, he said, “Report to me as soon as you’ve examined and treated her.”

The doctor’s eyebrows lifted curiously. “I take it this young lady is special to you?”

The doctor had brought Lorne into the world thirty-one years ago and was one of the few people who would dare to speak so familiarly to him. Lorne’s parents had died during a cyclone when he was only twenty, and the doctor had become something of a father figure. The man’s informality usually warmed him, but right now he found it intensely irritating. “She is a stranger in need of our help, Alain. I suggest you provide it for her.”

The doctor didn’t look in the least put out by Lorne’s abruptness. “As you wish, Your Highness.” Somehow he managed to infuse the title with a touch of reprimand.

Lorne regretted his tone immediately. He deserved Alain’s censure. No matter how confused he felt over the unexpected arrival of the Australian woman, it didn’t give him the right to abuse a dear friend. Raking long fingers through his hair, Lorne said, “Wait, Alain. I’m sorry for snapping at you. Do what you can for her, all right?”

Amusement danced in the doctor’s expression. “As you wish, Your Highness.” This time, the title contained the wealth of affection that had built up between them through the years.

By the time the doctor returned with his report, Lorne had showered and changed into a white open-necked shirt and black pants. He was surprised at the tension he noticed coiling inside himself as he waited for the doctor’s verdict.

“The young lady has suffered no lasting harm from being caught in the rip,” the doctor informed him. “At least no physical harm.”

Alarm flared through Lorne. “Then why did she faint?”

The doctor paced to a large window overlooking the villa’s expansive grounds. “Exhaustion would be my diagnosis.”

“From her ordeal?”

The doctor turned back to him and shook his head. “From more than that, I would say. She’s run-down and slightly anemic. When she came around, she was groggy enough to be honest and admit she hasn’t taken a holiday for years. I gather she hasn’t had much sleep since arriving in our beautiful country.”

Bracing himself, Lorne said, “I imagine she spends her nights partying with other travelers her own age.”

“I doubt it,” Dr. Pascale observed dryly. “She’s staying at Shepherd Lodge.”

“I see.” Lorne did see. Shepherd Lodge was run by an order of lay nuns who took strict care to see that their residents behaved themselves. The young women who stayed there endured the spartan rooms and requirement to do chores either to please parents who lived in the country or, in the case of foreigners, because it was clean and incredibly cheap. He had a good idea which of the reasons applied to Alison. On the beach she had mentioned staying as long as her money lasted.

“I’ve given her something to help her rest,” the doctor continued. “Do you want me to arrange transportation for her back to the Lodge when she wakes up?”

Lorne was in no doubt what answer the doctor expected. Alain Pascale might be getting on in years but he was nobody’s fool. “You know perfectly well I can’t send her back to that bleak place if she’s unwell,” he observed testily. “They have a rule against residents remaining in their rooms during the day. You have to be almost dying to be exempted.”

“Then she can remain in the Rose Suite for a day or so until she recovers?”

Wondering if he needed his head examined, Lorne nodded. “For a day or so. Have someone notify the matron at Shepherd Lodge that their resident is staying at my villa so they have no need to send out a search party.”

The doctor’s eyebrows lifted. “And you got mad at me for harboring suspicions. They’ll have nothing on the rumors doing the rounds once that message is received.”

Lorne gave a heavy sigh. “You’re right as usual. Have my aide tell them Alison has taken up a post with my household as…as Nori’s companion for the remainder of our vacation here.”

Alain had the grace not to grin, although he looked pleased by the decision. “You’re assuming that she’ll accept, of course.”

Lorne wondered if he looked as stunned as he felt. “Of course she will, if I command it.”

The doctor shrugged. “You of all people should know Australians can be infuriatingly independent. Miss Carter seems to be no exception. I’d ask her nicely if I were you, then she might say yes.”

Asking nicely wasn’t something Lorne was accustomed to doing. As the sovereign ruler of Carramer, his word was quite literally law. For the first time it came to him to wonder if it hadn’t been one of the stumbling blocks to happiness with his late wife. Since he would never know the answer, he dismissed it from his mind. “I’ll think about it,” he said ominously.

“I recognize a dismissal when I hear one,” the doctor said easily. “I’ll stick around overnight in case your young lady needs me again.”

“She isn’t my young lady,” Lorne said irritably. “Although I seem to be stuck with her for the time being.”

“Approach her with that attitude and it won’t be a problem. She’ll be gone so fast your head will spin,” the doctor pointed out. “Most virile young men wouldn’t consider accommodating a beautiful young woman to be a hardship.”

Lorne favored him with his most regal glare of disapproval although he knew it was wasted on the doctor. “Most virile young men don’t have a country to run.”

“Or a bad experience with an Australian beauty behind them,” the doctor observed with remarkable insight. “Remember, not all women from that country are like Chandra. Some of them enjoy living in Carramer.”

Alain Pascale’s wife, Helen, was one of them, the prince knew. A nicer, more generous person was impossible to meet. Even in her late sixties, she was still a beauty, and although she returned regularly to visit relatives in her native country, her loyalty to Carramer was unwavering.

“Neither are they all like Helen,” Lorne countered. “She may be Australian, but her heart belongs to Carramer.”

The doctor laughed. “Give me some of the credit at least. When you’re as much in love as Helen and me, even after forty years of marriage, it hardly matters where you live as long as you’re together.”

Jealousy gripped Lorne so fiercely it was like a physical pain, but years of royal training enabled him to mask the reaction. He kept his expression impassive as he bade the doctor good evening. “You may have only one patient, but I have a million of them and I need to get some work done, vacation or no,” he explained.

At the door the doctor paused. “You may have a million subjects, but you’re still a man with a man’s normal needs and desires. Maybe you needed to have a woman wash up at your feet to remind you of the fact. Good night.”

Before Lorne could frame a scathing reply, the doctor had gone and Lorne was alone. Never before had his private apartment seemed so vast or lonely, he reflected somberly. Maybe the doctor was right. It was time he got to know one or two of the beautiful women who were regularly paraded before him at official functions. One of them would never capture his heart unless he gave them a chance. Somehow the idea had less appeal than he thought it should.

“Good, you are awake. Papa said no one was to disturb you until you woke up by your own self.”

It took Allie a moment to connect the child at the foot of her bed with her surroundings, then she sat up with a jolt as memory came rushing back. She had almost drowned in the undertow known locally as the serpent and had been rescued by Prince Lorne himself. She remembered collapsing at his feet, then awakening briefly to find herself being checked over by a kindly doctor who said he would give her something to help her rest.

“What time is it?” she asked the wide-eyed little boy watching her intently.

He made a face. “I don’t know, I’m only four. You went to bed even earlier than me, Miss Carter.”

She couldn’t help smiling and realized how much better she felt. “I did, didn’t I, Nori? I’d like it if you called me Allie. It’s the name my friends use, and I hope you’ll be my friend, too.” She levered herself onto one elbow and patted the space beside her. “Jump up.”

He didn’t need a second invitation. “You talk funny.”

“I’m from Australia. That’s why I sound funny to you.”

He settled himself more comfortably beside her. “My mummy came from Australia. Is that like Heaven?”

Something was wrong here. “Australia’s a place like Carramer, Nori,” she explained, adding gently, “is your mummy in Heaven?”

The child nodded and his eyes grew luminous. “Papa says we can’t visit her but she’s very happy.”

Allie’s heart felt as if a giant hand had clamped around it. So Lorne’s wife had been Australian, too, and had died not so long ago. She remembered the cold way Lorne de Marigny had identified her nationality. Allie must have reminded him painfully of his loss. He must have loved his wife a great deal to react so strongly, she thought on a wave of sadness. What must it be like to be so loved? “I’m sure your daddy’s right, sweetheart,” she assured the little boy tremulously.

He nodded, then brightened. “Do you have a pet kangaroo in Australia?”

He was so sweetly earnest that she wanted to hug him, but hesitated. Was one allowed to hug a crown prince, even if he was only four years old? She settled for placing an arm around his small shoulders. He responded by nestling into the crook of her arm, triggering a surge of maternal longing deep inside her. “No, I don’t,” she said with a laugh. “Kangaroos are wild animals that live in the bush, not in people’s houses. But I have cuddled a koala. They’re adorable, like you.”

He looked disgusted. “I’m not ’dorable. But I’d like to cuddle a koala.”

“They’re only found in Australia and a few zoos in other places. Tell you what,” she said on a sudden inspiration, “I have a toy koala in my luggage back at Allora. I promise I’ll send it to you as soon as I get back there.”

“There’s no need. Nori has plenty of toys,” came a stern injunction from the doorway.

Allie turned to see Lorne standing there, looking like thunder. It was very attractive thunder, she couldn’t help thinking, as memories of him carrying her up the beach returned unbidden. He was dressed in a light-blue polo shirt with a monogram on the pocket and navy pants, the fine cut of the clothing emphasizing the athletic figure underneath. She pulled the bedclothes up higher in an instinctively defensive gesture.

At the sight of his father, little Nori scrambled off the bed and ducked under his father’s arm out of the room. Lorne said something to him about a nanny waiting with breakfast, and the child scampered off.

“I would rather not have my son’s head filled with fantasies about Australia,” the prince said grimly.

What had she done? “I only promised him a toy koala,” she explained. “I brought one with me in case I needed a gift, so it’s no problem.”

He folded his arms across his broad chest and angled his body against the door frame, a picture of masculine disapproval. “Perhaps not to you. But Nori already thinks of Australia as a kind of Disneyland where everything is more exciting than in his own country.”

The child probably associated all Australians with his mother and endowed them with the same magic, Allie thought. She wondered if Lorne knew just how much the little boy missed his mother. Without knowing more of what had happened, she didn’t feel free to bring it up. And she had already made enough mistakes where Lorne was concerned, starting with treating him as a commoner instead of the most powerful man in Carramer.

“About yesterday, Your Highness,” she began formally, although the effect was reduced somewhat by their relative positions. “I’m sorry for intruding. Thank you for having your doctor treat me and for letting me recover here, but I should get back to Allora.”

“Alain—Dr. Pascale—has prescribed several days’ rest for you,” the prince informed her. He didn’t sound pleased about it. “He tells me you’re run-down and slightly anemic.”

It was said as if he found her a complete nuisance. Her temper flared. “I didn’t plan on collapsing at your feet, Your Highness. I’m sure I can recuperate just as well at my hostel if you’ll let me dress and be on my way.”

She dimly remembered the doctor helping her to change, after having had clothing brought to her room, presumably from some royal storehouse. Turning her head, she could see several garments folded neatly over a stand under a window. One of the other teachers at the school where she worked would have called the situation “landing on her feet.” Looking at the prince’s forbidding expression, Allie wasn’t so sure. “I’ll make sure you get your clothes back safely,” she added.

The prince shook his head. “The clothes are unimportant. Dr. Pascale wants you to remain here.”

That made one of them, she thought tensely. She sat up, forgetting for a moment that the doctor’s bounty had included a decidedly skimpy nightdress that revealed as much of her as it covered. With difficulty she resisted the temptation to drag the covers back over herself. There were other, more important issues here. “Surely I have some say in this?” she demanded.

It was the wrong tone to use, she saw, when anger flared in the prince’s black eyes, but all he said was, “If you were from Carramer, you would know better.”

“Because you’re the prince and I’m nobody?” she asked. He might be the ruler of his country, but he wasn’t her ruler, and it was time she pointed it out.