Searching For Her Prince (10 page)

After Brent talked briefly with Marilyn, he drove Amira back to Shady Glenn. They were silent, lost in their separate thoughts. Brent let Amira out at the door and drove the car to the garage. She went straight up to her bedroom, knowing he’d meet her there to fix the shutter.

Ten minutes later she worried about him as he leaned outside the window, a flashlight and screwdriver in hand.

“Be careful,” she murmured, wanting to hold on to him, to make sure he didn’t lean too far.

A short while later he pulled his head inside and shut the window. “You worry too much, Amira. I wasn’t in any danger of falling out.”

“You never know,” she murmured.

He came closer to her then, and they both thought about everything that had happened earlier. “Are you sure you’ll be able to get to sleep?”

“I’m sure. I’ll probably have less trouble than Jared.”

Brent gave her one of those smiles like he’d given Joanie. “I think he has a crush on you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous. You’re a beautiful, kind lady. He couldn’t help but fall for that.”

Before she could stop herself, she said, “Joanie has a thing for you.” She didn’t exactly want to call it a
crush, because if Brent felt attracted to the woman in any way, it was more than that.

“A thing?” His grin made Amira angry.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Men,” Amira said with some disgust, turning away.

But he wouldn’t let her escape, and he caught her arm. “Yes, I’m one of them. What makes you think Joanie has a ‘thing’ for me?”

“I can read women. It’s in the way she looks at you, the way she flutters her lashes, the way she stands within six inches of you.”

His smile grew wider. “And that bothers you?”

“No.” She’d said too much already. Pulling away from him, she went over to her dresser.

Following her, he clasped her shoulder this time, and turned her toward him. “I don’t want Joanie, Amira. I want you. More than anything I want to kiss you right now. But if I do that, we’ll wind up in that bed and I’m still not sure that’s what
you
want.”

Earlier she’d been vulnerable. Earlier his comfort had slid into something else. It would have swept her away if the phone hadn’t rung. He seemed to know that and she appreciated that about him. Her admiration for him grew every day.

“You’re an honorable man, Brent Carpenter.”

A shadow passed over his face, and his eyes became sad. “Not as honorable as you think. I wish—” He stopped abruptly.

“What do you wish?”

“I wish lots of things were different.” Stepping away from her, he crossed the room to the door. “But
they aren’t. If you have another bad dream, feel free to call me.”

“I’ll be fine.” She knew she wouldn’t call for him…couldn’t call for him. If she invited him into her room again, it wouldn’t be for comfort after a bad dream. She’d only invite him into her room again if she decided to make love with him.

“Good night, Amira,” he said gently.

“Good night.”

When she heard the door to his room close, she sank down onto the bed, knowing any further dreams she had tonight would be of him.

There was a cloud cover when Amira and Brent went to fetch Jared from Reunion House the next morning. It seemed to Amira that a cloud also hung over her and Brent, and she didn’t know how to dispel it. Every time he looked at her there was something in his eyes. Sadness maybe? But as soon as she glimpsed it, it was gone and his guard was firmly back in place.

Jared was full of excitement and energy as they walked through the backyard. A Jet Ski bobbed there from the gentle lapping water on the lake. Farther along a blue pontoon boat was moored. It had a circular front deck and high-backed, padded admiral’s chairs.

Brent stepped onto the boat first carrying the picnic basket. Jared hopped on before Brent could give him a hand. When it was Amira’s turn to board, Brent turned to her and offered her his hand. She took it, feeling such a sense of rightness that it almost overwhelmed her. Whenever she was with Brent, she felt safe. That was so odd since she hadn’t felt safe since
the night her father had died. Her life in the palace had been pleasant, full of advantages most people didn’t have. Yet remembering what had happened to her father, she had never felt safe there. When she’d traveled to Chicago alone, some of that fear had come with her. But when Brent had scooped her into his arms that first night and she lay against his chest, the sense of security had been overwhelming. She realized now that was one of the reasons she was so drawn to him. One of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him.

As Brent helped her into the boat, his arm went around her waist, and he looked as if he was going to kiss her.

“This is so cool,” Jared called from under the canopy where he was examining everything. His enthusiasm broke the moment, and Amira stepped away from Brent breathless, knowing this day wasn’t about the two of them. It was about keeping Jared occupied.

The breeze ruffled Amira’s hair as she sat on one of the chairs, watching Brent teach Jared how to prepare a fishing rod. When Brent’s cell phone rang, he grinned at Amira and asked, “Hold this?”

She took the fishing rod, glad that Brent was using corn as bait and not worms. Absently she listened while she watched Jared attach two kernels of corn to his hook.

“The papers have to be signed today?” Brent asked. “All right. I’ll be back at the house by five at the latest.” He glanced over at Amira. “You’ve brought Quentin up to speed as far as I’m concerned?” He listened to his secretary for a few moments, then added, “Just tell him not to forget.”

A few moments later he attached the phone to his
belt again. Meeting her gaze he explained, “One of my employees is driving up to give me papers to sign.”

“Even when you’re on vacation you’re not really on vacation, are you?”

He shook his head ruefully. “No.”

“Do you have a very large staff?”

“Large enough. They’re all very capable and do their jobs well.” Taking the rod back from Amira, he asked Jared, “Ready to see if those fish are biting?”

The boy grinned at him, and Amira could see Jared was having a terrifically good time.

The morning passed pleasantly and swiftly as Amira sat with Jared and Brent, watching them fish. Jared was fascinated by everything—the boat and how it ran, the fishing rod, the type of fish in the lake. The breeze tossed Amira’s hair. It was nippy with the sun still dancing behind the clouds, and she shivered.

Brent must have noticed. He unzipped his jacket, shrugged out of it and put it around her shoulders.

“I can’t take this. You’ll get cold.”

He was wearing a sweatshirt with his jeans, and he shook his head. “I’m fine. My sweatshirt is heavier than your sweater.”

Brent’s jacket carried his warmth as well as his scent. She liked being wrapped up in both.

“If you get too cold, we’ll go back.”

Seeing the disappointment in Jared’s eyes, she quickly shook her head. “I can always sit inside. I’m not going to spoil this fishing trip.”

Brent’s gaze was approving as he reached over and took her hand and warmed it under his. Sitting here with him and Jared, Amira could imagine a similar day with her own children. As she thought about be
ing pregnant with Brent’s child, a sense of pride and well-being blossomed inside of her.

Could she give up her life in Penwyck if he asked her to? It was all she’d ever known. Still, a future with Brent was becoming her heart’s desire.

You can’t base your future on knowing a man for only a week, her better sense told her.

Yet she felt she knew Brent in every way that mattered.

Nevertheless, if all Brent felt was desire, what did they have to build on?

Throughout the morning Amira looked for signs that Brent felt more than physical attraction. She thought she saw a few. He was kind to her, cared about her comfort and seemed to enjoy being with her. But love consisted of a lot more than caring.

It was almost four when Brent piloted the pontoon boat back to the dock and tied it down. He swung the almost-empty picnic basket as he took Amira’s hand and Jared ran ahead of them. They were about twenty yards from the house when the back door opened. A girl of about eight stepped outside. She had long brown hair tied in pigtails and a wide smile on her face.

Jared took off with a loud whoop, and moments later he was on the porch hugging his sister.

Tears sprang to Amira’s eyes as she and Brent stopped and watched. “I can see why you put your time and heart into Reunion House,” she murmured.

“I remember the reunion my brother and I had after being separated for nine months. Even though I knew we’d be separated again eventually, that first moment was pure hope and happiness and everything we’d ever meant to each other.”

Brent’s barriers were down and Amira felt honored that she could share this moment with him. He was a man who could love deeply. The question was—would he let himself love her?

Brent must have felt the closeness between them, too, because he draped his arm around her shoulders and they walked up the path to Reunion House together.

They only stayed at the house long enough to meet Lena and see that she and Jared, as well as the other kids, were well occupied. Cocoa seemed to be at home there already and thoroughly satisfied with her new environment.

When Brent pulled into the drive at Shady Glenn, there was already a car there.

“Quentin’s early,” Brent said brusquely as he unfastened his seat belt.

After Brent came around and opened Amira’s door for her, they approached the porch. A man had been sitting in one of the cane rockers and rose to greet them. He was about five-eight, stocky, with brown hair. His suit and tie seemed out of place here.

As Amira smiled at him, she thought he looked familiar. Had she seen him somewhere before, or did he simply look like somebody she might know?

On the porch Brent introduced Amira to the man. “Quentin Franklin, Amira Corbin.”

She shook his hand still trying to place him. Where had she seen Quentin Franklin before?

A
s Marcus sipped from his first cup of coffee for the day, he heard the shower running upstairs. Last evening had been one of the most frustrating of his life, but one of the most satisfying. It had been frustrating because he’d been close enough to Amira to kiss her as they’d sat on the sofa in front of the fire and played Scrabble. It had been satisfying because she was quick and bright and funny and had not only played the game, but talked and teased and laughed, too. He couldn’t remember ever being that relaxed with a woman—comfortable enough to take off his shoes and not worry about what he should say or do or be. He could just be himself.

Only…she didn’t know who he really was.

The phone rang and he automatically picked it up. “Hello?”

“I’d like to speak to Amira Corbin.”

Now Marcus checked the Caller ID and saw the international code. “I’m sorry. She’s not available
right now. Can I give her a message?” he asked smoothly as if he was a clerk at a desk.

There was silence and then he heard, “This is Queen Marissa of Penwyck.”

This was the woman who might want to place the responsibility for a country on his head. “Hello, Queen Marissa. What would you like me to tell Miss Corbin?”

“Do you know when she will be available?”

All he wanted to do was get the woman off the phone. Thinking about how long it usually took Amira to dress, he answered, “She’ll be here for breakfast in about half an hour.”

“I imagine she’s taking her early-morning jog?”

“I don’t think she ran today, but I’m certain she’ll be here for breakfast in a half hour.”

“All right. Please tell her to call me immediately.”

“I’ll do that. It was an honor to speak with you, Your Majesty.”

When Marcus hung up the receiver, he felt relieved but unsettled, too. That had been the woman who thought she might be his birth mother.

Twenty minutes later Amira came into the kitchen looking beautifully fresh and casual in jeans and a sweater. She was wearing her new shoes and had her hair tied back in a ponytail.

He poured a cup of coffee for her and set it on the table. “You had a phone call.”

Amira lost her relaxed look and asked, “Who was it?”

“It was the queen.”

Her eyes widened. “Why didn’t you come and get me?”

“Because you were in the shower.”

“That doesn’t matter. If the queen wanted me—”

He felt impatient with her and the whole impossible situation. “Don’t be ridiculous, Amira. What would you have done? Answered the phone dripping wet?”

“Yes!”

Immersed in the vision of her answering the phone that way, he shook his head. “I didn’t think a few minutes would make a difference. In fact, you could probably eat breakfast first and the world won’t fall apart.” He was frustrated by her royal connection, knowing what it could mean to his life. He could also feel the sand in their hourglass running out, and not seeing her again disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

“What did she say?” Amira asked, her voice strained.

“She said to call her immediately.”

Amira went to the phone and asked coolly, “May I have a bit of privacy?”

“Fine,” he said, exasperated with her. “I’ll be in my office.”

As Amira blinked away tears, she was angry with Brent for dismissing the call as if Queen Marissa had been a phone solicitor. She’d seen the exasperation and frustration in his eyes and knew full well what it was from. When he’d given her a good-night kiss last night, it had been a question. She’d ended the kiss before she’d been swept away again, and he’d left her at her bedroom door, wanting him.

Trying to push her relationship with Brent to the back of her mind, she dialed the queen’s number. Her secretary, Mrs. Ferth, answered and then she transferred the call to the queen.

“Amira?”

“Yes, Queen Marissa. Has something happened?”

“Indeed it has. Prince Dylan has finally returned home. He’s been traveling through remote areas of Europe. That’s why we couldn’t reach him.”

“But he’s home now?”

“Yes. He made a stop in Paris and heard about the king’s health, Megan’s pregnancy and marriage, Owen’s kidnapping and return. He was very surprised his brother has a child and that Owen actually got down on his knees to ask Jordan to marry him.”

Everyone had been surprised at that! “Had Dylan heard about Princess Anastasia’s plane crash?”

“No, he hadn’t. But he’s pleased to see her with Jake Sanderstone. He thinks Jake can keep her in line. His words—not mine.”

“Does he know about…?” Amira didn’t know how to put the mix-up with the royal twins delicately.

“Does he know he might not be the true prince?” Queen Marissa formed the question for her. “Yes. I told him what Broderick says he did and how I tried to foil his machinations. But Dylan doesn’t seem too concerned. He has always felt Owen outshone him in everything and assumed his brother would eventually be named king. That’s why he took off on this trip of his in the first place. So the idea that Marcus and Shane Cordello might be the true heirs doesn’t faze him. He was more disconcerted by the possibility that King Morgan and I might not be his parents. As with Owen, I assured both of my sons that I will always be their mother no matter what DNA reveals.”

Amira felt compassion for the queen and the whole situation. She had worried in silence about Dylan while he was gone. “I’m so glad Dylan’s home and that you can stop worrying about him.”

“I’ll always worry about my children. Dylan did say he’ll help us any way he can to get to the bottom of Broderick’s plot. I think he’s quite eager to meet Marcus Cordello himself.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to speak to Marcus Cordello when he returns to the city. I’ll be on his office doorstep Monday morning ready to confront him. Somehow I’ll get through those doors into his office. I will not let my country down.”

“We know you’ll do your very best, my dear. Are you finding your accommodations suitable where you’re staying?”

Amira looked around the kitchen and into the living room. She was very comfortable here. “It’s very casual, Your Majesty, but very peaceful, too.”

“None of us have had much of that lately. You get your fill of peace and quiet while you can and enjoy yourself.”

After Amira hung up the phone, she knew she had to get something straight with Brent and get it straight now.

She found him at his large mahogany desk, his laptop computer switched on. When he heard her, he swiveled toward her. “Well? Is the country still in one piece?”

“You can make fun of me if you like,” she said coolly. “But if I receive another call from the queen, please let me know immediately. A subject should never keep Her Majesty waiting.”

Brent stood, his eyes stormy. “No one is that important that you can’t take a breath before you return their call. You act as if she owns you.”

Amira’s feelings for Brent, somewhere between a hope and a dream, brought tears to her eyes. “You’ll
never understand my duties, my world…my life.” Spinning around, she headed for the kitchen and went outside, not knowing where she was going. She just knew she didn’t want this idyll with Brent to end. She didn’t want to go back to her duties, her world and her life, but yet she had to. She had no choice. Penwyck was where she belonged. Brent would never understand that…never understand what her life was.

She took off at a run when she left the house, and before she realized it, she’d followed a path through birches and elms and found herself at the edge of the lake.

Brent caught up to her as she stood on the bank edged with laurel, staring at the pontoon boat a quarter of the way around the lake.

She could hear his feet rustling the leaves as he came up behind her. “Help me understand the world you come from.”

When she turned to face him, he was hardly a breath away. She could see his annoyance with her was gone now.

“I
don’t
understand, Amira,” he said gently. “But I’d like to.”

The intensity in his eyes was more than she could handle at the moment, and she looked away. “It’s difficult to explain.”

Tenderly, so very tenderly, he cupped her face in his hand. “You don’t run away from ‘difficult.’ I know that about you.”

No, she didn’t. So she tried to do as he asked. “On Penwyck, everything revolves around the royal family. They can hardly take a walk without newspapers wanting to cover them. Although my father was part of the Royal Guard, he never talked about the family.
In his silence I sensed his loyalty, the attitude of discretion everyone around him followed. My father was a wonderful man—kind and gentle, yet strong and sure. I was always so proud of him when I saw him protecting the king. That’s what I remember most—how he stood, handsome in his uniform, flanking the king wherever he went.”

“Like our Secret Service,” Brent responded.

“Yes, exactly like that. I always knew that if he had to my father would give his life for King Morgan. But I never believed that would happen. When I was a child I saw the palace as a fairy-tale castle and believed nothing bad could happen in King Morgan and Queen Marissa’s kingdom. Then in one terrible night I learned I was all wrong.”

“You learned about real life.”

Amira realized that just as her father’s death was a life-changing event for her, Brent had had a similar one when his parents divorced and he was separated from his brother. “I learned about reality,” she agreed, “but I also learned about loyalty and kindness. The royal family took in my mother and me and gave us new lives. The queen invited my mother to become her lady-in-waiting. My mother became her confidante. Queen Marissa arranged for private tutors for me, and Princess Anastasia, especially, became like a big sister to me. Princess Meredith and Princess Megan were older, but they never acted as if they resented me. Neither did Prince Dylan or Prince Owen. It was as if the queen and king had decreed us part of the family, and all of them appreciated the sacrifice my father had made. Because of him, the king lived. Because of him, Penwyck still had its monarch.”

“I’m beginning to understand,” Brent said, and she could see from his expression that he was.

“They gave me my life. After my schooling was finished, Queen Marissa found a place for me in the academy. Everything at Penwyck is about loyalty and honor.”

“So it’s natural for you to be on call, to fly to the United States to meet a man who’s a stranger, to return a phone call immediately. Tell me something, Amira. Do you like your life?”

Again she felt she had to be honest. “Before I came here I thought about getting my own apartment but not changing my life. Now…I don’t know. Sometimes all of it is a burden, and sometimes it gives my life meaning.”

“I could never live like you do. Never.”

“Most people can’t,” she admitted, thinking about a life here with Brent. But he didn’t want to share his life on an ongoing basis. No matter what she did or what she changed, that wouldn’t change.

Brent’s cell phone beeped and he glanced at it askance. “I’m supposed to be on vacation,” he muttered, taking it from his belt and slipping it open. “Yes?” he asked tersely.

Amira watched his face go grim. Taking her hand he started tugging her toward the house, and she hurried along beside him, worried.

She heard him say, “We’re headed for the car now. We’ll be there in two minutes.” Snapping the phone shut, he clipped it back on his belt, not slowing his stride.

“What is it?”

“That was Marilyn. She can’t find Jared and Lena anywhere. Apparently Lena’s foster mother and father
are getting a divorce. No one knows where Lena will be placed. Both kids are terrifically upset. I think Jared’s afraid they’ll ship her even farther away.”

“Where do you think they’d go?”

“He might take her to the woods with him, or he might hide out somewhere for a while. I just don’t know. I
do
know ten-year-olds don’t usually plan ahead.”

When Brent and Amira arrived at Reunion House, they searched it again with Joanie and Marilyn.

“We’re wasting our time,” Brent said as they stood in the foyer once more. “He wouldn’t take the chance of us finding them here. I’m going to the woods. Marilyn, call Emergency Services, and tell them we need to find these kids.”

“I’m going with you.” Amira ran beside Brent as they hurried to the kitchen and out the back door into the yard.

Brent had his eyes peeled to the woods as they ran toward them. Suddenly he pointed. “There. Did you see a flash of yellow?”

Amira had missed whatever Brent had seen. “No, I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”

As they met the tree line, Brent tugged her along it. “There. I saw it again. I think he’s headed for the dock.”

Lena and Jared were a good hundred yards ahead. All Amira could make out were colors. One was definitely moving slower than the other. “She’s not running as fast as he is. Maybe she’s hurt.”

“That’s what I meant about kids not planning. I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to do on the
dock. Unless—” Brent swore and Amira guessed what Brent was imagining.

“I showed him how to do it,” Brent muttered. “I showed him where I keep the key. Damn.”

They heard the pontoon boat’s engine start when they were still fifty yards from the dock. Brent surged ahead of her. “Wait on the dock for me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Go after them,” he called over his shoulder, and she suddenly realized exactly what he intended. Her heart almost stopped.

The pontoon boat was chugging fast and picking up speed.

Afraid for Brent, Amira watched as he hopped on the Jet Ski and started it. She thought about his shoulder, about the wound that wasn’t yet healed. What did he think he was going to do? He certainly couldn’t stop the pontoon boat with a Jet Ski, could he?

Watching in fear and dismay, she saw him race on the surface of the lake, speeding so he could catch up with the boat. He looked as if he were flying. As he pulled up beside the pontoon boat, she saw with dread what he was going to do. He was going to jump onto the deck! What if he didn’t make it? What if he fell between the two vehicles? Good Lord, she loved this man and she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him. There was no doubt in her mind.