The Expectant Princess

The slight sound of a footstep on flagstone alerted her that she was no longer alone. Glancing up from a plate of fruit, she saw that Prudence, her lady-in-waiting, had joined her on the balcony.

Only two years older than herself, Prudence had been with Dominique since their early childhood. When the time had come for Dominique to go to college, Prudence had begged to go along with her princess, but the king and queen had separated the two, believing it would help their daughter develop more independence. Now that Dominique was back, Prudence was delighted and had practically been smothering her with attention.

At the moment, the young woman with dark brown hair twisted into an elaborate coil at the back of her head gave her princess a rueful smile. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Dominique. But someone has asked to see you. Are you feeling up to a visitor this morning?”

“Who is it, Pru?”

The other woman’s smile deepened. “Marcus Kent. I thought you might not want me to send him away.”

Other than a faint lift of her eyebrows, Dominique made no reply to her lady’s subtle hint. Instead, she glanced down at her blue velour robe. She wasn’t properly dressed, but she was decently covered. And Marcus might have received some sort of news about her father that he wanted to deliver personally.

“I’ll see him here on the balcony. Oh, and Pru,” she added as her personal attendant turned to hurry away. “Please send a servant up with a pot of fresh decaffeinated coffee and a thermos of cold fruit juice. Mr. Kent might want refreshments.”

“Of course,” she said with a wide smile. “I’ll be in the study if you need me for anything else.”

Prudence disappeared back into the palace and Dominique quickly finger-combed her loose hair. Thankfully, she had taken the time to thoroughly brush the long strands before breakfast. But without combs or headbands to confine it, the waves slipped and slid to their choosing rather than hers.

Oh, what did it matter anyway, she thought dismally. Most likely Marcus still thought of her as a young schoolgirl. No doubt he probably believed the crush she’d had on him for a while had died since her time away at university. It didn’t matter that she looked less than her best.

The thought was hardly out of her head when a tall shadow appeared across the glass tabletop. Looking up, she squinted against the bright morning sun streaming around his silhouette.

“Prudence didn’t tell me you were still having breakfast,” he said in that deep voice she remembered so well. “I should have waited until a later hour to see you.”

Shaking her head, Dominique motioned for him to take the chair opposite her.

“You’re not interrupting anything. I think I’ve forced down three bites in the past half hour.”

He frowned with disapproval. “That’s hardly the way to start your day.”

The sight of his dark handsome face had already fed her more than the food on her plate, she realized with sudden shock. Then quickly pushing the unbidden thought away, she said, “I’m not sure when my days start and end now, Marcus. Since the morning of the accident, everything has seemed surreal.”

Settling back in the wrought-iron chair, he propped his ankle against his knee. Dominique’s gaze slid discreetly over the light gray suit that was perfectly cut to fit his broad shoulders, then on to the strip of pale pink shirt against his tanned neck and the burgundy striped tie lying against his chest. From what she knew of Marcus, his looks or clothing were not that important to him. Seeing to the needs of his king and his country were always first and foremost. Yet he was a man who could throw on an old rugby shirt and a pair of jeans and still manage to look impressive.

Watch it, Dominique, she silently scolded herself. As a teenager, she’d allowed the image of Marcus Kent to put stars in her eyes. But she was a grown woman now and he was a man who would never see her as anything more than a friend or princess. He’d made that clear years ago. And besides, she’d already made a fool out of herself over one man. There was no way she was going to make a second mistake.

“I’ve been meaning to stop by and—offer my condolences before now,” he said. “But as you might guess, things have been hectic with the ongoing investigation of the accident and getting Nicholas settled in as the new acting king.”

Dominique latched on to one word and quickly tossed it back at him. “Condolences? Does that mean—” She swallowed as her throat threatened to close around the words. “Has Father’s body been found?”

Shaking his head he started to speak, then stopped abruptly as a maid, dressed in a gray-and-white uniform and carrying a loaded ornate silver tray, appeared on the balcony.

After depositing the tray on the table, the plump older woman stood waiting to serve them. Dominique quickly dismissed her, saying, “Thank you, I’ll do it.”

With a quick curtsy she left them, and Dominique looked at Marcus. “Would you like coffee or juice?”

“Coffee. With a dollop of cream. No sugar.”

She reached for a cup and saucer. The thin, gold-encrusted china rattled loudly in her shaking hands.

Quickly, Marcus leaned forward and took the dishes from her. “Here, let me,” he said gently. “You’re in no shape to be handling hot liquid.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus,” she apologized as she watched him pour the coffee. “I guess my nerves are a little frayed.”

His smile was indulgent. “I would hate to think of you not being upset at a time like this.”

She was a mess. A total mess. And Marcus was the one person she’d always wanted to impress with inner strength and dignity. Instead, she seemed to break down with emotion at the very sight of him. Her behavior toward him made no sense at all.

He lifted a second cup in question and she nodded for answer. After he’d filled it and passed it to her, she said, “Getting back to the accident, just what have you discovered? Anything new?”

Carefully, he sipped the hot coffee, then lowered the wafer-thin cup to its saucer. An odd mixture of apprehension and attraction shot through Dominique as his golden-brown eyes settled on her face.

“You are aware that the police have been combing the cliffs where the accident took place and also searching the sea below?” he asked.

She nodded stiffly. “The television news and all the newspapers have been full of pictures and theories as to what might have occurred the day of the crash. But none of it means much. Nothing will—until my father and his driver are found.”

He studied her for a moment longer and Dominique got the impression he was trying to decide whether she was strong enough for any sort of revelation. The idea knotted her already queasy stomach.

“A call from the police came in less than an hour ago. They’re still trying to extricate the driver’s body from the car. Apparently the metal—at least what was left after the fire—was a mangled mess. And I’m sure they’re going slowly so as not to destroy any clues. Apparent or otherwise.”

Dominique sucked in a fearful breath. “What about my father? If the driver—”

Marcus lifted one hand to halt her tortured thoughts. “King Michael’s body has still not been found. The chief investigator believes he must have been tossed from the car, and from that point his body rolled down the cliff and into the sea. The next step is to bring in divers and search the waters just off the island.”

Dominique shuddered with imagined horror. “But wouldn’t the body have already washed up to the shoreline? The prevailing winds over the North Sea would push the tide toward us, not away.”

“That’s true, however—”

She darted a questioning frown at him. “But what? What are you not telling me?”

His gaze dropped to her slender fingers and the cup lightly clutched in their grasp. She was so soft and vulnerable. He wanted to shield her from the awful truth and the pain it was bound to bring her.

“Drink your coffee,” he suggested quietly.

Her frown deepened, drawing her delicate eyebrows together to create one thin slash above her eyes. “Don’t stall, Marcus. Tell me what else you’re thinking.”

His lips formed a grim line, then he sighed. “You don’t really want to think of all the hazards out in the sea.”

The stiffness went out of her shoulders and her whole upper body sagged forward with reluctant defeat.

“You mean sharks,” she said in a low, raw voice. “Well, you are right. A body wouldn’t last long once a scavenger found it. But Father might not have been dead. He might have been dazed and hurt.” Her tone suddenly took on a fresh burst of hope. “It’s possible he could have wandered off before anyone came upon the wreckage!”

Thoughtfully, Marcus rubbed a thumb along the slight cleft in his chin. “Possible. But not likely. Eventually he would have had to stagger onto someone. There isn’t a soul in this city who wouldn’t recognize King Michael and carry him to the hospital.”

Although the weather was sunny with only a gentle breeze to ruffle the earliest spring leaves, Dominique felt suddenly cold. Clutching the lapels of her robe tightly together, she said, “Unless he happened to stumble onto an enemy.”

Marcus stared at her in disbelief.

She asked, “Why are you looking at me like that? I realize Father was a beloved king, but one never knows about people anymore. There are some strange ones out there.”

Actually the same sort of thread had run through his own thoughts these past three days. But he’d not voiced it to anyone. Even the police. Not that they would have put any credence into his theory. He was a political adviser, not a detective. And anyway, it was a farfetched notion. Anyone who looked at the scene of the accident would think it incredible for anyone to survive.

“I’m sorry if I was staring, Dominique. Your thoughts just took me by surprise. I didn’t expect you to be thinking in such—sinister terms.”

With a shake of her head, she placed her cup back on its saucer. Her fingers trembled as she passed them over her forehead. “I’m not sure I’m thinking at all right now, Marcus. I keep telling myself I have to accept that my father is dead. But my heart refuses. I can’t let go of the hope that he still might be alive and out there somewhere—someplace where he can’t get back to us.”

Before Marcus realized what he was doing, he reached over and gathered her hand in his.

“You need to put this out of your mind as best you can, Dominique. Fretting about it won’t accomplish anything. And you’ve only just now come back home to the palace. Why don’t you see old friends and try to enjoy being with your family.”

The warm strength of his hand felt far too good. It was all she could do to keep from turning her palm upward and sliding her fingers intimately between his.

Oh my, you are a little fool, Dominique. You were supposed to have forgotten all about Marcus Kent. You were certain you had. But you come home and he gives you one kind look and you melt like sweet chocolate between warm lips.

Clearing her throat, she said, “I’m not going back to my studies anytime soon, Marcus. At least not until this thing with my father is cleared up.”

She couldn’t tell him that her father’s accident was only part of the reason she was delaying her return to university. He’d want a full explanation and she couldn’t give him one. The reason would come out all too soon anyway. And then he’d be looking at her with disgust. As no doubt her family would be, too.

Chapter Two

“Do you think that’s a wise decision? Not going back to the university right away?” Marcus asked.

A wan smile tilted Dominique’s lips. “I’ve been known to make unwise choices before. You know me, I never had the level head my sister Isabel possesses. Nor Nicholas’s intelligence. But even if this thing with father wasn’t happening, I need some time off. To rest.”

His smile held a hint of both censure and understanding. “I suppose you’ll get to that degree soon enough. And then you’ll be out in the world of high-powered business.”

Because the pleasure was becoming too great, she slid her hand from his and reached for her coffee. After a thoughtful sip, she said, “I’ve changed the direction of my degree sometime back. I’m going into the field of education.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh. I had the impression you wanted to be a financial adviser.”

She grimaced. “I’ve decided it’s more important for a person to acquire an education. Without that, they won’t need a financial adviser.” Shrugging, she self-consciously glanced away from him. “Eventually I would like to form an education center here in Old Stan-bury. For needy students who can’t afford to attend private schools or expensive universities.”

“That’s a lofty goal,” he said.

Yes, she thought. And to achieve such a project she was going to need the backing of her family and country. But once her secret was out, Dominique wasn’t sure she would receive either. She would probably be lucky if her family didn’t choose to disown her completely. While she’d been away at her studies, she’d not behaved as a princess representing her country. But, dear heaven, she was only human, she reasoned with herself. She was a young woman with needs just like thousands of other women in Edenbourg.

Her fidgeting fingers on the cup handle didn’t go unnoticed by Marcus. In fact, it amazed him that everything about her caught his attention.

In the open light of the fresh morning, her skin looked like rich cream and pale roses. Her brown hair was threaded with streaks of gold and sunlight. This morning the mass was unconfined, the waves tumbling about her face and shoulders like a wild waterfall.

Before Marcus realized where his thinking was headed, he was suddenly wondering what it would be like to run his hands through the thick brown tresses, to skim the pads of his fingers over the smooth skin of her face, her throat and down the shadowy cleavage between her breasts.

Dear Lord, he must be drunk from lack of sleep and too much work, he reasoned with himself. There was no other reason for him to be thinking such lustful thoughts about his king’s daughter. Especially now that King Michael was missing and presumed dead.

Across the table Dominique was feeling a bit disturbed by Marcus’s close scrutiny. It wasn’t like him to look at her so intensely. And though she knew it was a crazy notion, she wondered if the man was finally seeing her as a woman. Not as the teenager he used to know.

The whole idea heated Dominique’s cheeks and forced her to rise to her feet and put a measurable space between them.

Walking to the edge of the balcony, she leaned against the thick balustrade. From this high point, Old Stanbury, the capital city of Edenbourg, lay far below. Its network of winding narrow streets were nestled against green hillsides and lined with shops, boutiques and quaint cottages built centuries before the ravages of World War II had threatened this small island country.

Far to the west, between a break in the mountains, was a sparkling glimpse of blue-gray sea, while directly below were the palace grounds, where slopes of grassy lawns were dotted with huge shade trees and patterned with hedgerows. In another month, tea roses would be blooming thickly in the carefully tended gardens. A beautiful time for a wedding. But that part of Dominique’s dreams were over.

She was trying to fight off those bitter thoughts when Marcus came to stand beside her. With a rueful smile, she looked over at him.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m not very good company this morning.”

The smile he cast her was regretful. “I’m not here to be entertained, Dominique. In fact, I think I should be the one apologizing for starting your day out on such a bad note.”

She drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “No. Please don’t apologize. I want you to keep me abreast of what’s happening with the investigation.”

He nodded soberly. “Perhaps we’ll hear something soon.”

As she studied his somber face, it suddenly dawned on her that her father’s disappearance was bound to be tearing at him just as much as it was her. Marcus had spent many years serving his country and, most of all, his king. He had become her father’s right-hand man, a close friend and confidant to Michael Stanbury.

The need to comfort him overshadowed her intentions to remain distant. She reached for his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “I know you must be hurting over all this, too, Marcus. You love Father very much.”

“Yes,” he said flatly. “It’s not the same without him.”

“No. But then our lives never really stay the same, even when we want them to.”

Her comment brought a grimace to his face. “I’m sure you heard about my marriage and divorce.”

She nodded while trying to hide her surprise that he’d brought up the subject. From what she recalled, Marcus had been a private man. She’d not expected him to want to share that sort of thing with anyone.

“It was in the papers,” she told him. “I couldn’t help but see all the articles. I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you.”

Pulling away from her, he gripped the top rail of the balustrade as he stared out at the distant city. “Being a member of your father’s staff made my private life fodder for the news media. I don’t think there was even one story that ever got it right.”

Her throat tightened with unexpected emotion. Marcus had always been a hero in her eyes. And heroes weren’t ever supposed to hurt. “Your wife—I mean, ex-wife—is very beautiful. You must have loved her madly.”

The corners of his mouth turned downward. Madly was probably the perfect way to describe his feelings toward Liza back then, Marcus thought. For a while he’d been insane over the woman. He’d not been able to see beyond his own besotted emotions that she was not suited to him or his way of life. Liza had never been able to understand that when duty to his country called, she had to take second stage.

“I’m over Liza, Dominique. But I do still deeply regret that our baby didn’t survive.”

Baby. The word jolted the deepest part of her and for long moments she was too choked to speak.

Finally, she managed, but her voice was hoarse and so low it was almost carried away with the sea breeze. “You’ll have a child someday, Marcus. When you find that special woman.”

His lips twisted to a mocking slant. “No. Two years ago Liza suffered a spontaneous miscarriage. The doctors couldn’t explain why it happened. Except that nature had decided to intervene. Somehow the lack of a concrete reason made it harder for both of us to accept the loss. The whole thing made me realize that having a wife and a child of my own was…too risky an endeavor. I’ve decided I’m not cut out to be a husband or father. Some men aren’t, you know.”

Oh yes, Dominique did know. But she’d learned the lesson too late. Now she had to face the reckoning of her folly alone.

Dominique was so lost in her problems, she wasn’t aware that Marcus had moved closer until his lips were brushing a soft kiss against her cheek.

“Welcome home, Dominique,” he murmured.

Too stunned to make any sort of reply, she watched him leave the balcony, then with quivering fingers, she touched the spot where his lips had warmed her skin.

Marcus believed he wasn’t meant to be a husband or father. If Dominique was wise, she would make herself believe it, too.

Four days later, in the family room of the Stanbury palace, Dominique announced that she intended to drive out to the scene of her father’s accident and have a look for herself.

“Dominique,” Queen Josephine calmly spoke up, “the police are doing all they can. Your interference would only hinder their progress.”

Dominique turned an astounded look on her perfectly groomed mother. Sometimes Josephine’s stiff upper lip infuriated her. Putting on a strong and reserved facade for the public was one thing, but in the privacy of family, Dominique didn’t believe any of them had to keep up a show of iron will.

Her parents had been married for thirty-three years and had produced three children together. Yet there had been times when Dominique wondered about their relationship. Their marriage had been an arrangement, made between two families seeking to merge their bloodlines and further enforce their power.

Now, as she looked at her mother sitting calmly in a winged-back chair, her smooth profile turned toward the flames in the fireplace, she could only guess at the woman’s guarded emotions. Was she mourning a lost love or simply accepting that the king was dead and it was her duty to continue without him?

“What progress are you talking about, Mother? It’s been a week and they still can’t tell us what happened with Father! They can’t even find his body!”

“That hardly means you can,” Nicholas spoke up from across the room.

Dominique rolled her eyes toward the high ceiling of the massive room. “I didn’t say I could, Nick. I’m only saying I want to go look for myself. I want to see where my father supposedly lost his life.”

“Not me,” Rebecca said from a nearby armchair. “It gives me the shivers just thinking about it.”

“I’m with Rebecca. The scene is not something for the fainthearted to see.”

This was from Jake Stanbury. Close to thirty years old with a tall, lean build and dark brown hair, he was the second son of Edward, who had arrived later that morning after the king’s accident. In fact, he claimed he’d driven up on the scene shortly after it had happened and was credited with notifying the police.

Dominique didn’t actually know either of her American cousins or her Uncle Edward. Nor was she yet sure what to make of their unannounced arrival in Old Stan-bury. Especially on the very day of her father’s accident. But Josephine had immediately welcomed them home and set them up in apartments on the palace grounds. With their mother setting that sort of cordial tone, Dominique had kept her doubts to herself and since then treated the three men as family. Nicholas and Isabel also appeared to be getting along with their American relatives.

“I’m not exactly fainthearted,” Dominique said to Jake. “I can take a jolt.”

Several feet away, Marcus rose from a high-back divan and joined Dominique in the middle of the room. Earlier he’d stopped by the family living quarters to discuss a foreign-trade agreement with Nicholas, but had wound up staying longer once the subject of the accident had been brought up.

For the past few minutes he’d been discreetly watching Dominique move restlessly around the room. Her outward appearance was elegant in a dove-gray skirt and a pale pink sleeveless sweater. A single strand of pearls rested against her neck and a pearl ring circled with diamonds adorned her right hand. But though she looked quite beautiful, he could sense a tightly controlled tenseness about her which worried him. Of all the Stanburys, she seemed to be taking the loss of King Michael the hardest, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Dominique, if you want to go out to the scene that badly, I’ll take you myself. I have a few questions of my own about this investigation. Seeing the scene might help answer them,” he offered.

Grateful for his support, she looked at him with relief. “I wouldn’t want to put you out, Marcus. But if you’d really like to go, I’m certainly game.”

He smiled at her, then glanced at his wristwatch. “Just let me go home and change my clothes. I’ll pick you up in the courtyard in fifteen minutes.”

Ten minutes later Dominique was ready and standing in wait on the stone driveway at the back of the castle. When Marcus pulled up beside her in a classic little MGB, she didn’t wait for him to get out and open her door. She slid into the car and greeted him with a wide, grateful smile.

“You don’t know what a reprieve you’ve given me.” She spoke while buckling her seat belt. “I think I would have exploded if I hadn’t gotten out of there soon.”

Marcus put the sleek convertible into gear and headed them back across the drawbridge and on to the road to Old Stanbury.