Searching For Her Prince (7 page)

As Brent’s large hand clasped her elbow, she didn’t have time to formulate an answer. “Over this way,” he directed her.

Cocoa ran beside them as they came to the end of
the pathway in the yard and entered a copse of weeping birches.

“Through here.” Brent’s hand went to the small of her back.

She could feel its imprint through her sweater. She felt small beside Brent, protected by him, excited by being so close.

“Where are we going?”

“In a few minutes you’ll see,” he said with an easy grin.

Emerging from the birches, they came into a small clearing bordered by pines. In that clearing sat a lopsided little building that Amira supposed could be a utility shed. Except, she could make out a shade at the window, and the door was somewhat unusual. It was a Dutch door such as she’d seen at a stable. Then she saw the slab of wood nailed above the door. It looked as if it had seen many winters. She could just make out the letters that spelled Private and she suddenly knew what it was.

“You had a clubhouse.”

“A clubhouse for two. My brother and I built it. We found the plans in a magazine and it gave us something to do the summer we were eleven.”

“May I?” she asked motioning toward the door.

“You’d better let me open it first and see if it’s safe to go inside.”

When Brent opened the door, there were only a few cobwebs and the smell of damp leaves. “You’re too tall to fit,” she teased.

He stooped, then folded his legs and sat on the floor. When he patted the boards next to him, she laughed and ducked through the doorway.

Then she sat on the floor beside him with their
shoulders brushing. Cocoa wiggled inside beside Brent and settled on the wooden floor, too.

“You and your brother did a good job if this is still standing,” Amira remarked.

“It’s been through a few repairs, but it’s held up well.”

In the small quarters Brent was more than ever aware of her. He took her hand in his and held it, interlacing their fingers. The silence was only broken now and then by birds chirping and by the breeze blowing stray leaves across the threshold.

“I spent a lot of time here,” he said. “Although my brother was far away, I felt closer to him in here.”

“Did you live at Shady Glenn all year round?”

“Before the divorce, yes. After the divorce, my father got an apartment in the city and we stayed there during the week and came out here on weekends. After he remarried, I didn’t get home for months at a time.”

“Why? Where were you?”

“At boarding school…prep school…whatever you want to call it. Someplace where my stepmother didn’t have to deal with me.”

Her indignation caused her cheeks to flush. “That’s a
terrible
thing to do to a child. Didn’t your father realize that?”

Brent shrugged. “My dad wanted to keep peace with his new wife. By the time I was ready for college, they’d separated and divorced, too. The truth is, I don’t think my dad ever stopped loving my mom. If she’d been able to forgive his affair, they might still be together.”

Amira was quiet for a while. “When trust is broken, it’s difficult to get it back again.”

Brent thought about his first night with Amira and why he hadn’t told her he was Marcus Cordello. “There are reasons why people do the things they do. There are always two sides…two points of view.”

“I guess if two people love each other enough, they can overcome anything,” Amira mused.

Cocoa had put her nose on Brent’s leg. Her eyes were closed, and to lessen the intensity of the moment, Amira nodded to her. “I think we tuckered her out.”

“Just as well. That means we’ll have a few moments of privacy,” Brent said, his voice low and intimate. Taking Amira’s chin into his hand, he tilted her face up to his.

When he kissed her, she felt there was a new depth to it, a richness that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was because of everything he’d shared with her. Maybe it was because their friendship was growing into so much more…at least on her part.

Suddenly there was the rat-tat-tat of rain on the roof.

Cocoa scrambled to her feet, and Brent lifted his head. “Uh-oh. We’d better make a run for it.”

Holding on to the leash with one hand, Brent hurried out of the clubhouse and held his hand out to Amira. “Come on. If we hurry, we might not get soaked.”

Brent held Amira’s hand as they ran. Moments after the drizzle started it changed to a downpour. When they reached the back door to the house, Brent held it open for Amira and she rushed inside.

Cocoa purposely shook, and water splattered everywhere.

“I’m not much better than Cocoa,” Amira said. “I’m dripping all over your floor.”

With a smile Brent nodded to the bathroom. “Go ahead and get out of those clothes. I’ll light a fire, then change in the laundry room. I have a pair of jeans in there.”

Cocoa trotted behind Brent to the living room.

Amira had stripped off her clothes in the downstairs bathroom when she suddenly realized she had nothing to put on. Not only that, but her hair was wet and she needed to brush it out while she dried it or it would frizz all over.

Wrapping herself in one of the bath towels, she opened the door and peeked out. She thought she heard the dryer door close in the laundry room. She could scurry upstairs, put on fresh clothes, then do something with her hair.

But she’d barely made it to the stairway when she heard Brent’s footsteps. Before she could start up the steps, he was there, his gaze raking over her as he took in her bare shoulders, the towel tucked at her breasts, her bare legs and feet.

“Come sit by the fire,” he said, his voice husky. “I’ll go get you some clothes.”

She hadn’t even noticed the kindling taking off in the fireplace. Her hand went to her hair. “I need to fix up a little.”

“You don’t need to fix a thing. Go on. Sit on the sofa and cover up with the afghan. Do you want jeans?”

“I laid a sweat suit over the chair upstairs. That’ll be fine.”

He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, and she couldn’t stop staring at his chest. He was shirtless and
so very masculine. His shoulders were so broad. The dark brown hair running down the middle of his chest whirled around his navel. He hadn’t even snapped his jeans, she realized, and quickly brought her gaze back up to his. The fire couldn’t be warming the room already, but she felt very hot, very excited, very…much a woman.

Breaking the silence, he murmured, “I’ll be right back,” and then he was up the stairs, and her knees were shaking as she made her way to the sofa where she curled up in the corner and covered herself with the afghan. Only this morning they’d spoken of being friends first…before anything else happened between them. Yet their attraction to each other, the pull toward each other, was stronger than logic or good intentions.

Her heart beat faster as she heard Brent’s footsteps in the upstairs hall, heard him descend the steps. Suddenly he was standing before her with her clothes. She noticed his eyes dipped to her breasts covered modestly by the afghan. Then his gaze returned to her face. There was such a deep need and longing there in his eyes.

He held out the clothes to her, and his voice was husky. “I’ll go into the kitchen. Let me know when you’re dressed.”

She could let him walk away. She could build on their friendship. She could get dressed and pretend she didn’t feel the longing and the need, too. But was that honest when all she wanted was to be held in his arms? When all she wanted was to let him awaken every womanly desire she’d never felt?

Taking the clothes from him, she set them aside. “Will you kiss me?”

“Amira.” His voice was a pleading groan, telling her she was pushing him too far. “You don’t know what you’re asking. I can’t turn my desire for you on and off like a light switch.”

“Then don’t turn it off,” she suggested softly.

Sinking down on the sofa beside her, he took her into his arms, afghan and all, kissing her eyes, her nose, trailing kisses down her cheek to her neck.

“You are so sweet,” he murmured. “Like a Christmas gift someone surprised me with when I didn’t believe in Christmas any longer. I can’t wait to unwrap you.” Keeping his eyes on hers, he reached for the corner of the afghan that had been thrown over her shoulder. He’d almost uncovered her breasts when the phone rang.

He swore. “I’ll let it ring.”

But when it rang a second time, Amira looked worried. “It could be for me. If it is, I should answer it.”

The expression on Brent’s face changed from desire-filled to remote, and he shifted away from her. “I have Caller ID. I’ll check it. If it’s not someone I recognize, you can pick it up.”

While Brent went to check the phone on a small bench by the dining room, Amira quickly wrapped the afghan around her again.

“It’s for you. It’s an international area code that I don’t recognize.”

Making sure the afghan was securely fastened around her like a huge bath sheet that dropped to her ankles, she knew only her shoulders were showing. Yet as she moved toward the phone, she had the afghan wound so tightly that she knew Brent could see every curve and every wiggle. When she picked up
the receiver, he moved away, over to the window and stared out at the rain.

“Hello?” she said, not knowing who to expect.

“Hi, darling.”

“Mother! It’s so good to hear your voice. Are you still in Greece?”

“We’ve been out on a sailboat Harrison hired for the past three days. Now we’re on Santorini. There are cafés, vineyards, black sand beaches. Our suite has a view of the Aegean Sea. It’s so beautiful, Amira. I wish you could see it.”

“Maybe I will someday,” she murmured, thinking how perfect the Greek island sounded for a honeymoon.

“How are you getting along? When I called the palace, Mrs. Ferth gave me this number.”

“I’m not in Chicago right now. I haven’t seen Marcus Cordello yet. He’s on vacation somewhere this week and nobody knows where. So I thought I’d take a holiday until he comes back.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. Except you’re all alone. Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Oh, it’s safe. I’m in the country at this wonderful house. It’s raining now and there’s a fire going.”

“Won’t you be lonely?”

“Oh, no. Really, Mother, it’s a treat. Doing what I want, when I want to.”

“Sometimes I worry about you, honey. I didn’t realize how lonely
I
was until I met Harrison. Now I know the rest of my life, I’ll never be alone again. I love him so much. More each day. I can hardly imagine my life before I met him anymore.”

Amira could hear the happiness in her mother’s voice and it made her heart ache. She glanced over
at Brent. What had she been about to do? She knew he didn’t want a serious relationship. She knew after she accomplished her mission, she’d never see him again unless she flew to the United States or he flew to Penwyck. They could have a few days together every few months. Once a year? What kind of relationship was that?

“I’m glad you found Harrison, Mother. I’m glad you’re not lonely anymore.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest that being with you, having you, wasn’t enough. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course. The bond between a man and woman isn’t like any other.”

“You sound as if you know that from experience. Have I been too involved with palace affairs to notice something going on in your life?”

“No. You haven’t been too involved. I…I guess I just dream about that kind of bond. You talked about having it with father, and I see you have it with Harrison. It’s just something I want, too…along with children.” She glanced over at Brent again and saw he was watching her intently.

“You must be careful, Amira. I never told you, but I knew about your meetings with Sean in the garden.”

“You never said anything.”

“It seemed to end as fast as it started. And you were only seventeen then. Now, at twenty, you might be ready for something more serious. When you’re on Penwyck, you have lots of people to look out for you. But on your own in Chicago…Be careful. There are men who would take advantage of a beautiful young woman like you.”

Amira was aware she was standing in Brent’s liv
ing room with only an afghan wrapped around her. A few minutes before she’d welcomed his attentions and encouraged him. Now she felt ashamed that she’d been so bold. Was she mature enough to act on her feelings? Was she mature enough to listen to her heart?

“When will you be flying back to Penwyck?” Amira asked, changing the subject.

“Probably tomorrow. Harrison must get back. We’ve decided to look for a house in the country but keep Harrison’s apartment since it’s so convenient to the palace.”

“I think when I return, I’d like to find a place of my own.”

Silence met her words, then her mother said, “If you think you’re ready for that, then that’s what you should do. I’d love to go apartment hunting with you.”

Amira knew she and her mother would always be close, no matter what happened, no matter how their lives changed. She was so grateful for that. “I’d love for you to help me decorate. Your taste is as good as mine.”

Gwen Montague laughed. “You take care of yourself, honey. I hope I see you as well as Marcus Cordello sometime next week.”

“I’ll do what I can to make that happen. Has King Morgan’s condition changed?”

“No. It’s the same. All we can do is pray and try to figure out who is the true heir to the throne. Take care, and I’ll see you soon.”

When Amira hung up the phone, tears pricked her eyes. She missed her mother. She missed everyone at the palace. But most of all she felt as if by being here
with Brent, she was becoming a different person. She didn’t know what was right and what was wrong, what was best or what would lead her into trouble.

Brent broke into her train of thought. “That was your mother, I take it.”

“Yes, she’s having a lovely honeymoon, but…she’s worried about me.” Awkwardly Amira walked to the sofa and picked up her sweat suit. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“Amira, we weren’t doing anything wrong. You’re not a child. You have a right to make your own decisions. Don’t let your mother make you feel guilty—”