Читать книгу His Convenient Royal Bride - Cara Colter - Страница 13

“BUT...BUT YOUR marriage is expected,” Lancaster stammered, after a long silence.

“I’ve always understood that service comes before self, and that certain sacrifices would be expected of me.”

“Princess Aida is a beautiful woman, sir, hardly a sacrifice.”

“She doesn’t love me.”

“Love?” Lancaster shot him a distressed look. “What does that have to do with it?”

Love. Ward had never had an expectation of it in his life. His father, the King, had not loved his mother, nor she him. Their public lives had been orchestrated to be civil; privately they had been cold and distant to one another.

Ward himself had been sent away to a private school when he was six. So love was a nebulous thing to him. He had not experienced it, nor had any expectation of it.

Edward thought of Aida with affection, like one would think of a little sister. When she had come to him and told him she loved someone else, he had felt a shocking sense of envy for what was shining in her eyes.

And he’d felt the difficulty of what he needed to do. His nation wanted one thing. His family demanded one thing. His conscience commanded another. He could not be the one to kill the light that had shone from Aida when she talked about Drew Mooretown, the man on her personal guard that she now loved.

“The sacrifice would have been hers, if we married,” Edward said slowly. “I’ve no notions of love. We’ve both known, since we were children, what was expected of us and what the benefit to both of our nations is. Like me, she’ll do what’s required of her, but, Lancaster, she loves another. I cannot do this to her.”

“You’re a good man,” Lancaster said with a sigh, and Prince Edward Alexander the Fourth knew he had been paid the highest of compliments from one who rarely gave them. He could only hope it was true. “But it’s not going to be as easy to get out of it as you think. Your father—”

“Would force it, I know.”

“I don’t relish the thought of marching you down the aisle with a sword at your back.” Lancaster was only partly kidding. “What are you going to do? I’ve known this whole trip something was deeply troubling you. It seems impossible to get out of it. Unless you’re thinking of not going back?”

“Rest easy, Lancaster. You don’t have to feel a divided loyalty between your duty to your King and your duty to me. There will be no having to think of a way to wrestle me back to my kingdom. I have always known my destiny is there, and I embrace that. I love my work on economic development, bringing the island new ideas and prosperity, acting as a liaison with the people. I love listening to their ideas and concerns, involving them in the future of our island. I love Havenhurst.”

“Then what?”

“I have to set Aida free. And I think there’s only one way to do that where unbearable pressure wouldn’t be brought on her.”

“Which is?”

“I have to marry someone else. Before we return.”

“Within days, in other words?”

“Yes.”

“A kind of pretend marriage?”

“Yes, just long enough to enable Aida to go off and marry her chap without the indignation of two kingdoms being heaped on her.”

“Being heaped on you, instead.”

“I have broad shoulders. After it has all died down, a quiet annulment could be arranged.”

Lancaster was silent but then spoke. “But you would have to marry genuinely, eventually. Marriage is expected.”

Yes, it was expected that Edward would marry, and that out of that marriage would come that all-important heir to the royal legacy.

Not expected: that he would ever know the kind of love he had seen shining in Aida’s face when she had confessed to him that she had met another.

Not expected: a longing for this thing his position would probably keep him from ever knowing.

Not expected: that a man the world would see as having absolutely everything—wealth and power beyond the dreams of most mortals—would feel this odd emptiness. A sense of missing something that had increased every day they had explored America, been normal, been free of Havenhurst.

“Perhaps I won’t marry at all.”

“That sounds a lonely life.”

“Will you marry again, Lancaster?” Ward asked softly, remembering the man Lancaster used to be, a man who had radiated a kind of faith in the goodness of life.

“I don’t think so,” Lancaster said, looking off into the distance. “A man’s heart can only take so much.”

Lancaster’s wife and young baby had been killed in a cottage fire. Lancaster had been away at a training program off-island when it had happened. The whole island had mourned the loss of his family, and five years later, Lancaster still carried an aura of deep mourning about him.

Mourning, mingled with a kind of steadfast, put-one-foot-in-front-of-the-other strength.

“No, I won’t marry again,” he said. “Not while there are streams that need fishing. But you...you’ll be expected to find a wife.”

There was the weight of all those expectations again.

“My position makes it more difficult to find a partner, not less.”

Lancaster snorted. “Once you are seen as available, women will be throwing themselves at you, Your Highness.”

“Not at me,” Ward said, and could hear the weariness in his own voice. “At the fantasy of being a princess. At the role they think I play. At their impossible romantic ideas. The reality is so different. The obligations that go with the title would place an unfair burden on someone not brought up in it.”

“There is the little issue of an heir,” Lancaster reminded him. “You will be King.”

“My sister is married, and they have dear, sweet Anne. Perhaps one day she will reign.”

“She’s a girl!”

“The times are changing, Lancaster.”

Lancaster looked dubious about that, at least in the context of Havenhurst. “You’ve given this some thought.”

“I have, indeed.”

“How do you find someone to play the role of a pretend princess? It’s not as if you can put an ad in the personal section of the newspaper. Prince in search of bride.”

“I’ve asked Sea O’Brian.”

They had just spent several days with Sea at her villa in California. Ward had met the actress at a party, a long time ago, on a yacht in the Mediterranean. He had not developed a taste for such things, but he and the famous actress had kept in touch.

Lancaster was silent.

“You don’t approve?”

“It’s not my place to approve or disapprove of your choices, sir.”

“My thought was that she was an actress already. She could play it like a role. And the publicity would certainly benefit her career. I’d like whoever takes this on to benefit in some way. I think the deception of a nation—not to mention my father and mother—is a great deal to ask of an individual.”

Again, Lancaster was silent, but his brows had lowered and he was looking straight ahead with such fierce concentration that it could only mean disapproval. They had known each other so long and spent so much time together there was an unbreakable bond between them, almost as if they were brothers.

“I’m interested in your thoughts.”

Lancaster took a deep breath. “As you say, sir, she’s an actress. There always seems to be lots of drama unfolding around her. I overheard her talking to her press secretary about alerting a tabloid to your presence at her villa and had to head her off.”

Ward had not been aware of any of this, an indication of how well Lancaster did his job, and how seriously he took it.

“I don’t imagine Sea O’Brian is easy to head off,” he said mildly.

“Correct,” Lancaster said.

“How did you manage it?”

“I took her cell phone hostage,” Lancaster admitted reluctantly. “Her life, as she told me. She’d been snapping pictures of you when you weren’t aware. Anyway, all this leads me to believe that trying to extricate yourself from the situation could get very complicated.”

“True,” Ward conceded.

“The people won’t like her,” Lancaster said, his voice low. “They’ll see her as glib and superficial. She’s not of the earth.”

This was a highest form of praise in Havenhurst: he or she is of the earth.

There was a grave silence between the two men, and when Lancaster spoke, his tone was faintly lighter.

“Perhaps you could consider that lass from the café this morning. Think of the scones!” Lancaster crowed. Now that they were alone, he pronounced it skoons in the language of their island kingdom.

Both men laughed.

“I think there is far less danger of damage hiring an actress to play the role of my wife than to involve an ordinary girl living her ordinary life,” Ward said firmly.

He had found a way to save Aida, without hurting anyone else, or his island kingdom. He was satisfied with his choice. The truth was a woman like Maddie, from the little time he had spent with her, deserved things he could not give.

Love, for one.

That was a topic he knew nothing about. Nothing. Love would be for him, as it had been for his parents, the great unknown. His parents had done precisely what he would do—they had sacrificed any chance of personal happiness for what they saw as the good of Havenhurst.

And he would do the same. Love was not part of his duty, nor his destiny, and he had known those truths forever. He had made a decision to save Aida from this same lonely fate, and that was good enough.

Even though Ward had decided the scone enchantress was not marriage material—she might already be married for all he knew—he had a feeling that if he wanted to glimpse normal, to feel it and be it for these few days of freedom remaining to him, she could show him that. It would be even better if she had a husband or a boyfriend. They could give him a glimpse of that tantalizing thing called normal together.

“Why don’t we go see if Maddie and Sophie are willing to show us the pool?” Ward suggested after a moment.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Maddie might even have—what do they call it here? A significant other! Who could come with us.”

Lancaster cast him a long look and finally, reluctantly, nodded.

* * *

“We’re just getting ready to close,” Maddie said when the bell rang over the door. She was exhausted. The day had been frantically busy, visitors already thronging the town for tomorrow’s concert. She would not be attending the concert. She preferred a warm bath and a good book.

She glanced up and froze.

It was the two men from this morning, Ward and Lancaster.

“Are there scones left?” Lancaster asked without preamble.

“Is that panic I hear in your voice?” Ward asked. He smiled at Maddie. “It takes a lot to panic him. Please tell him you have scones left. Hello, by the way. Nice to see you again.”

He said it as if he really meant it.

“You, too,” she said, and then wished she hadn’t, because she really meant it, too, only she probably really meant it way more than he really meant it.

“If we’ve dispensed with the social niceties?” Lancaster prodded.

Exactly! Social niceties. Meaningless. Not that she wanted them to have meaning. She was done with that kind of thing. The thrill of a handsome man. The excitement of getting to know someone. The feeling of being close. The tingle of hands touching. That incredible sensation of being alive.

She was done with it—but she was aware she longed for it, too. She had told herself she remained in Mountain Bend, after Derek’s betrayal, because she was needed here.

But couldn’t that be a way of hiding?

And now, what she was hiding from appeared to have found her. It was like a chocolate addict giving up bonbons. It was all well and good until someone waved one under your nose.

“Do any scones remain?” Lancaster asked plaintively.

See? She was already drifting off, contemplating the many missed pleasures of bonbons. She drew herself up short.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said. “We’ve had crowds. Once I added the Cornish cream, I couldn’t keep up with the demand.”

“You said you didn’t have any!”

“You’re making the poor man swoon,” Ward pointed out good-naturedly.

She dared not look at him. If he was smiling, and she knew he was—she could tell by the added lilt in his voice—she might be the one swooning!

“I looked up some recipes. It’s really just whipped cream, but done until it’s very nearly butter, yes?”

“Will you marry me?” Lancaster asked. “And if not me, him?”

Despite her vow not to look, she cast a startled glance at Ward, thinking he would be laughing uproariously. Why did Ward not seem to think that was funny?

“Anyway, we sold out, but I have some in the freezer I could get for you.”

“Perhaps a dozen? And as much cream as you’re willing to part with.”

“You’ll get fat,” a voice behind him said. “They’re made with pure butter. And then whipped cream, too? Your arteries won’t thank you. It’s a disgraceful way to treat a beautiful body.”

Lancaster whirled and glared at Sophie. “I’ll thank you not to comment on my arteries. My body is not your business, either.”

“We could change that,” Sophie purred.

“We couldn’t,” Lancaster snapped firmly, much to Maddie’s relief. What was Sophie doing, talking to a virtual stranger like that?

“Mountain Bend is a beautiful place,” Ward said conversationally to Maddie as she returned with frozen scones and packed them in a box. “Our part of the world has some beautiful places, to be sure, but nothing quite this untamed. Sophie mentioned the best sights were known by the locals. Would you say that’s true?”

Maddie nodded, feeling oddly wary.

“Do you think maybe you could show us some? When you’re all wrapped up here? You and the delightful Miss Sophie?”

Maddie felt herself freeze. Did Ward like Sophie? Well, who could blame him? And why did she care? It felt like this treacherous attraction she felt for him had to be quelled immediately. But still, Maddie looked over her shoulder at him, and he was smirking at Lancaster with a certain devilment in his smile. He turned back to her and winked.

Winked!

Immediately, she ordered herself to say no to this. She was not up to a man who could make such a simple thing as a playful wink seem sexy. But somehow that simple word stuck in her throat and would not come out.

“Lancaster and I spent the day trying to find a hot pool,” Ward said, “and despite having a map we did not turn it up.”

“Honeymoon Hot Springs,” Sophie said, excited as a puppy who had been shown a toy. “How did you hear about those? It’s Mountain Bend’s best-kept secret.”

“Someone at our hotel told us.”

That was unusual, but he was charming. He probably just had to smile to get poor old Adele, who worked the front desk at the Cottages, to want immediately to impress him with all the secrets the locals guarded from outsiders. Even now, when they were desperately trying to attract tourists, Honeymoon Hot Springs was rarely mentioned. The name said it all—it was so special to people here. A favorite place for wedding proposals, romantic interludes, honeymoon nights. It was a place couples went for privacy. It was absolutely the wrong place to go with a man you felt the slightest attraction to!

“Naturally, we’d want your, uh, significant other, to come, as well,” Ward said.

“She doesn’t have one!” Sophie said, like someone in possession of a piece of juicy gossip they couldn’t wait to share. “Her fiancé was the world’s biggest jerk.”

Maddie gave Sophie a look that could kill.

“Well, he was,” Sophie said, somehow missing the look entirely. “She came home to look after Kettle, and guess what he did? With her best friend?”

Maddie was mortified. She stared at Sophie in shocked horror. They all stood there in embarrassed distress. Too late, Sophie became aware of her gaffe. She turned stricken eyes to Maddie. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Not to worry,” Maddie said brightly. “I’m sorry, no. Local people don’t like outsiders going there. I have things to do. Thank you for your interest, but I can’t. I—”

“Of course, we’ll show you,” Sophie said, stubbornly, recovering way too quickly from divulging other people’s private lives. She was obviously as thrilled by the men’s interest in that secret place with its reputation for romantic enchantment, as Maddie was not.

“Sophie,” she said. “It’s—”

But Sophie cut her off with a toss of her thick black hair. “I will, if she won’t.”

There! Sophie had managed to make her sound like a terrible stick-in-the-mud. Had she become a terrible stick-in-the-mud? A person thrown over for another who could not get over it? She thought of her life since she’d returned to Mountain Bend. Work and worry.

She turned stiffly and handed the box of scones to Lancaster. “If there’s anything else?” Yes, she recognized it. The voice of a stick-in-the-mud, a woman whose broken heart would no doubt lead her to spinsterhood.

It was what Kettle loved about her, she reminded herself!

But then, ever so naturally, Ward laid his hand across Maddie’s wrist. His hand was warm and dry and his touch was firm. But more, his touch transmitted something of his power. She could feel the jolt of his substantial and seductive energy surge up the whole length of her arm.

It occurred to Maddie he was not a man accustomed to people saying no to him, which made it all the more imperative that she do exactly that!

“Please say yes,” Ward said softly.