Hand-Me-Down Princess (32 page)

“I doubt I am in any danger while at their country home,” she chided gently.

“You were nearly attacked on Alexander’s property last fall, remember?” His voice took on an unwelcome tone she had never heard before. “That’s a big part of the reason why I don’t want to get married there.” He wanted to have the wedding at the country’s largest cathedral with crowds gathered in the streets. It was the one thing she had put her foot down on. Every monarch for centuries had been married in the chapel on what was now the Bayfield property. Given her insistence on the location, she would acquiesce on some of the other items.

“It is a tradition I cannot change, my love.” She hated disappointing him, but disappointing everyone in her country would be worse.

“Queen Christiana?” The voice behind her caused her to turn.

“Is that Alexander?” The angry voice on the phone drew her attention back.

“Yes. He is here to tell me it is time for me to leave for the food tasting.” She felt like a petulant child. “The wedding and reception are at
his
family’s venue.” She found herself reminding him just to be a bit mean.

“And you know quite well how I feel about that.”

“I need to go,” she told him. “I love you.”

“Very well.” He did not say good-bye but said he would talk to her later and hung up.

“Are you ready, ma’am?” Alexander’s voice brought her back to her office in the palace.

“Yes, Alexander. I am.” She would have to placate her fiancée later.

It was time to plan their wedding by herself.

* * *

“I never knew swimming could be so exhausting,” Lizbeth complained to Conner as she stretched out on the davenport.

“When all you do is get in the pool long enough to cool off, it doesn’t take much effort.” He propped himself up on one elbow next to her. “We forgot towels.”

She closed her eyes and yawned, her arms stretched far over her head. Linking her fingers behind her head, she stared up at the open sky above the canopy frame. “I used to sleep out here sometimes.” Warm memories of the few times she’d been here without nannies hovering flooded through her. “There’s something special about sleeping under the stars.”

Conner sat up and poured the rest of the Ravenzinis into their glasses. She rolled onto her side and took the glass offered. The open side of the canopy looked out into the Mediterranean. “What’s that?” he asked pointing toward the sea.

A flashing light caught her attention. “There are boats out there.”

He frowned. “Can they see us?”

“I doubt it. They’d have to have high powered binoculars or a telescope and want to watch us first.”

“I still don’t like it.” He moved to the end of the davenport and pulled on the sashes holding the two sides of the canopy back, letting them settle into place before he faced her. With his head propped on his hand, he took another sip of his drink. “There. Privacy.”

She shook her head sadly. “It was private before.” Lizbeth finished the last of her drink and rolled onto her back, reaching out to set it on the small table. “Are you sure you don’t want to protect our privacy from the space station?”

“Nah.” He finished his drink and set the glass on the table on his side. “I think we’re safe from them.” His hand skimmed down her arm and along the skin of her side until he reached her waist. Though the sun had gone down hours earlier, and he’d long since cooled down from its effects, her skin burned where he touched her.

The fuzzy perception of the world around her narrowed until she could only see him. Could only feel Conner’s breath as he leaned closer. Her heart could only beat in time with his as his lips caressed hers. Warning bells grew fainter in the fog as she reached out a hand and touched the scruff on his cheek. The bells sailed further away until they disappeared when she slid her hand behind his neck, and her fingers found the hair curling at the nape.

Time stood still until the pink glow of sunrise clashed with the pounding in her head and the hand on her arm shaking her.

“Miss Bence.” The whispered voice could have been thunder. “It’s time for you to get ready for your flight.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but found she had to try several times before the cotton feeling disappeared. “What?” she managed to croak.

“Your flight has already been delayed. Your father will not be pleased if you don’t hurry.” She
handed Lizbeth a long sun dress. “You’ll have clothes waiting on the plane. You’ll have time to take a quick shower and get ready during the flight.”

Lizbeth slipped the dress over her head and let the woman lead her into the house, knowing she left behind a sleeping companion. When they reached the kitchen, they stopped long enough for Lizbeth to force down a tablespoon of olive oil with the admonition that it would help the hangover.

“Hangover?” she asked. “We didn’t drink that much.”

“You shared a pitcher of Ravenizinis?”

“One at the restaurant and one here. But there’s not much alcohol in them.”

“It depends on how you make them.”

“The ones you made never made me feel like this.”

“That’s because I don’t use nearly a full package of the mix when I made them for you, love. I watered it down significantly.”

“Oh.” That explained so much, including the heaping doses of self-loathing that were sure to follow in the coming days. She stood next to the rear door of the black car. “Will you give Conner my contact information?” She’d need to clarify a few things with him, including the fact that she had no desire for a relationship, and apologize for getting them both drunk.

“I will.”

Lizbeth climbed into the backseat and prayed the home remedy would work. If her father found out what happened the night before, he would be livid. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

She’d betrayed
herself
. Her beliefs. Everything she held dear. She even felt like she’d betrayed Robert.

It was time to live with the consequences, and the hardest ones to live with would be the betrayals her mind would never let her forget.

* * *

Jessabelle stared at the piece of paper in front of her.

Fifty years.

It was quite a milestone birthday to reach. Her mother never had. Her father missed it by less than a year.

But what was she supposed to write to her father-in-law? The one she had barely spoken to in her life. Had she ever had a conversation with
just
him, more than just answering a question or two as part of a larger group setting?

Finally, she tossed her pen on the table and groaned. She wasn’t going to be able to do this.

It would be time for dinner soon. The next two days were jam-packed with activities and she wouldn’t have any time to work on the letter except late in the evening. She needed to write it now. Could something fairly generic work? What she might have written before the wedding about the king of her country?

That would never do, though.

But what if she just didn’t give him a letter? Were they each presenting them individually in a group setting or were they being gathered to be presented as a large packet?

“How’s it going?” Malachi walked into the bedroom where she sat trying to focus.

“It’s not,” she told him honestly. “I have no idea what to say that wouldn’t just be empty platitudes.”

“You need to give him
something
,” he insisted. “The last night here all of us will say something to him and give him the letter. If you don’t have one, you’ll be the only one who doesn’t. You’ll never live it down. He’ll never let you forget it and never forgive you for it.”

Jessabelle crossed her arms. “Would it be worse to say something I don’t mean? To give him a letter of meaningless words he could throw back in my face later when I fail at some other public function?”

“I don’t know what would be worse, but I am inclined to say not doing anything would be worse.”

“Worse for me,” she countered. “I would be the one carrying the stigma of being the only family member not to give him something, the one who didn’t cooperate for his big birthday bash. He still gets all kinds of other lovely things from everyone else.”

“And you don’t think it’ll hurt him when you don’t?”

Jessabelle stared at him before giving a bark of laughter. “Hardly. The only way I could hurt his feelings would be to announce publicly that I had cheated on you and was pregnant with another man’s child. He doesn’t care what I think about him. He doesn’t care about me enough for me to be able to hurt him.”

There seemed to be some pain in Malachi’s eyes that she didn’t quite understand. “What if I asked you to do it for me?”

Jessabelle felt herself softening. “I want to, Kai, but I just don’t know what to say. I don’t have any deep, meaningful memories to share or advice to give, except maybe be nicer to your children and their spouses.”

“That wouldn’t go over well.” He sighed and sat in one of the other chairs. “But it’s important.”

She went to him, sitting on his lap, being forward in a way she’d never imagined. “I know it is, Kai. I wish I could do this and have it mean something, I really do, but I just don’t see it happening.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’ll keep trying to think of something, though, okay?”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “Thanks. I cannot explain it, but I have a feeling this is important. I need you to try.”

“I will.”

“Thank you.” Malachi cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him, kissing her softly. “I appreciate it.”

They talked for a few more minutes about the rest of the group that would be arriving in the next couple of days. When Malachi finally fell asleep, Jessabelle snuggled next to him with a smile on her face. She was coming to love him for so many reasons, and, though he hadn’t said it yet, he seemed to be falling in love with her, too. But even as she tried to push it away, a sense of foreboding washed over her, and she felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She didn’t know what the first shoe had been, but the second was sure to be a doozy.

Chapter 32

“So when will this farce of a marriage end?”

Lizbeth felt her face heat as her father poured himself more brandy.

The king didn’t say anything but sipped his own drink.

“You promised, Antonio.” The warning tone in his voice was one Lizbeth knew well. The king, however, seemed nonplussed. Maybe because he was the king.

“We had a deal,” her father persisted.

“We never had a deal.” The king stared into his drink. “You wanted one. I never agreed.”

“You implied. You implied a whole bunch of times that LB would be Malachi’s wife.” Her father sat in the plush leather chair and leaned back.

“You read what you wanted into those conversations. I never promised Lizbeth would marry Malachi. I never promised she’d marry William, either.”

“But this marriage
will
end and soon, won’t it?”

The king shrugged. “It’s not my choice.”

“You forced him to marry her. She’s not pregnant. You can’t force the annulment?”

Antonio didn’t say anything, but tipped his head back to swallow the rest of his drink in one gulp. “Even if I wanted to, there’s two more months before the codicil could go into effect.” The king glared at her father. “Don’t try to force my hand and don’t even think about threatening me. Tread very carefully.”

Her father gave him a cold smile. “No, Antonio. You are the one who needs to be careful.”

They seemed to have forgotten she was there with them.

Her father and the king engaged in a stare down for long minutes. The king seemed to break it first when he stood and left. She wasn’t sure who won, but she was inclined to believe the king did, at least based on the look on her father’s face. Maybe if she sat still, didn’t make a sound, he’d forget she was there.

But no such luck.

“How was Conner, LB?” He didn’t look at her but continued to stare at the door the king left through.

“He was nice.” What else did he want her to say? She tried not to think about...

“You spent last night with him.”

It was as statement not a question. How did he know?

“You went to that bar in town? You should know better, Lizbeth.” The disapproving tone told her his objections were more to drinking in public than anything else. He didn’t necessarily know about what happened on the davenport. Surely, the staff at the house wouldn’t have told him. And she doubted Conner was on a first name basis with her father.

“When I tell you to go somewhere this weekend, what do you do?”

“Go.” One day she’d stand up to him and find out what would happen if she didn’t ask how high when he said to jump.

That day wouldn’t be this weekend.

* * *

“You found out who her mother is?” Malachi shut the door to his office.

“We think so.” Josh Wilson sighed on the other end of the line. “We’re waiting for confirmation from our source in the Commonwealth.”