Читать книгу The Improperly Pregnant Princess - Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 14

In the stunned silence that followed King Easton’s announcement, CeCe became acutely aware of the ticking of an antique clock. Of the swirl of dust motes down long shafts of light. Of the swift thumping of her heart.

Was he joking? One look at his face told her otherwise.

Her mother and sisters sat frozen. If anyone had dared to light a bomb under Charlotte’s chair, she wouldn’t have stirred.

Queen of Korosol? Such a thought had never entered CeCe’s mind, even in those childhood days when she and her sisters used to play at being princesses for real.

Of course, they were princesses for real. Living in New York, however, those titles meant little beyond the interest they stirred among the status-conscious.

“I don’t even know Korosol,” she said, then realized how ungracious that sounded. “I mean, I don’t deserve this honor. I haven’t visited the country since I was nine.”

“I’m aware of that.” Her grandfather sank back on the couch, looking weary. “I blame myself for not insisting that you girls spend a month each summer with me. However, a businesswoman with your credentials should be able to familiarize yourself with Korosol’s needs rather quickly.”

Charlotte coughed before managing to speak. “Your Majesty, I’m astounded. We’re all incredibly grateful—”

The king lifted one hand to halt the flow of words. “It’s a lifelong commitment. Since my granddaughter hasn’t been prepared for it the way I was, I won’t try to force it on her.”

“Naturally, my daughter will do anything you ask,” Charlotte assured him.

CeCe couldn’t begin to absorb the ramifications of becoming a queen. Moreover, her grandfather’s decision puzzled her.

“Although I realize the law doesn’t require it, I always assumed Markus was next in line,” she said.

Her cousin, who was half a dozen years older than CeCe, maintained an apartment in New York and a playboy lifestyle. Having seen him often over the years, she found him charming at times and manipulative at others.

Thin frown lines puckered Easton’s forehead. “I have reason to believe my grandson may not be, well, quite right for the job. That’s all I care to say on the matter.”

Perhaps it was Markus’s occasional heavy drinking that bothered their grandfather, CeCe thought. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for her cousin, who’d mentioned several times how much he looked forward to assuming the throne.

“I think CeCe will make a wonderful queen,” Amelia said, fulfilling her accustomed role of peacekeeper.

“She’ll be terrific, if it’s what she really wants to do,” said Lucia.

Queen Cecelia of Korosol. CeCe was sophisticated enough to know how the world would trumpet the storybook elevation of a New York executive into such a romantic position.

Romantic to others, perhaps. She doubted Shane would be impressed. He’d made it clear he admired people for their accomplishments, not for what was simply handed to them.

That was one of the reasons that his respect meant so much to her. Until that embarrassing night they’d spent together, she’d secretly looked forward to their negotiations. The flare of approval on his face when she raised a point that he hadn’t considered, even when it came at his own expense, thrilled her.

She’d missed Shane these past few months. Even though he sometimes annoyed her, she came alive during their verbal battles.

Becoming queen meant CeCe would never again walk into her office and see him standing there. She would never be able to call him on the phone and ask his advice or outline her latest idea.

Of course, she wasn’t queen yet. Under the circumstances, she reminded herself, she probably never would be. Could she possibly have timed her pregnancy worse?

CeCe knew she ought to say something now, but she couldn’t bear to blurt out the truth and see the disgust on her grandfather’s face. Not to mention that Charlotte would squawk loud enough to set off car alarms for blocks.

Despite lacking a course of action, she still needed to give her grandfather a response. “It’s a tremendous opportunity,” she said. “One I’m not sure I’m ready to handle. Would it be all right if I think it over?”

“There’s nothing to think about!” snapped her mother. “If your father were here—”

“If Drake were here, he’d be pleased that she takes the matter so seriously,” said the king. “I’m glad you don’t grab at the chance to glorify yourself, Cecelia. You understand, as you should, that saying yes will change not only your life but the lives of thousands of people.”

It was a solemn responsibility to have all those people counting on her. CeCe had never shrunk from taking charge, and she wasn’t about to start now—if it turned out her grandfather still intended to give her the chance, once she figured out how to break her news to him.

“We’ll get to know each other over the next few days,” the king said. “That will give you a chance to weigh the matter, and me an opportunity to make sure you’re the right person to rule my land.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said.

The monarch rose stiffly to his feet. The four women jumped up also. “I want to make sure my room is arranged to my liking before Ellie leaves. I shall see you all at dinner.”

“Let me show you the way.” Charlotte accompanied him from the room.

The young women sat in stunned silence for a few minutes. Then Lucia said, “I’m glad he picked you and not me!”

“I can just imagine you turning the royal palace into an artists’ loft like the one you live in,” Amelia teased.

“Well, I am an artist, and I can’t live my life to please other people,” replied their younger sister.

“You’re the one who’d make a good queen, Amelia,” CeCe said. “You could still work with the International Children’s Foundation. I’m sure they’d love to have a queen as a figurehead.”

“I’m not a figurehead!” Amelia answered in a rare display of temper.

“Of course not. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Although CeCe didn’t know the details of her sister’s work, she couldn’t help noticing that Amelia vanished from the apartment for weeks at a time. Often, she suspected, to travel to war-torn lands.

The ICF, a nonprofit relief organization, rescued orphans overseas and found them good homes. Because of the risk of being kidnapped if anyone discovered her identity, Amelia worked and traveled under an assumed name.

“You shouldn’t feel obligated to take the job just because grandfather and mother want you to,” Lucia told CeCe. “Once you become a queen, you won’t have a moment to yourself. Forget about finding the right man, not that it’s so easy for the rest of us.”

Three years earlier, Lucia had been duped by a gold-digging fiancé. Ever since, she’d avoided entanglements to concentrate on her design business.

Charlotte sailed through the door. “Don’t you dare try to talk your sister out of this! Being offered the throne is a dream come true.”

“Or a nightmare,” retorted Lucia.

“I don’t understand why you contradict me at every turn.” Charlotte’s tongue made a disapproving click. “Isn’t it bad enough that you live in SoHo and hang out with all those artsy types?”

CeCe was in no mood to hear old arguments rehashed. “I hope grandfather understands that I’m not going to be entirely at his beck and call these next few days.”

“His secretary mentioned he’s got some business at the embassy tomorrow morning, so you can keep your appointment with Shane,” Charlotte said. “Now, pipe down, all three of you. I have something to say.”

“Uh-oh,” muttered Lucia. Amelia shook her head at her sister.

CeCe perched on the arm of a sofa. The way her stomach felt, piping down was more difficult than her mother might guess. “Go ahead.”

Charlotte eyed the dessert cart longingly. “Before we start, there’s no point in letting these go to waste, I suppose.”

To keep her figure trim, she rarely indulged. Now she helped herself to a slice of mousse cake, taking dainty bites with a small silver fork. She must, CeCe mused, have expended a great deal of energy in worrying about the king’s arrival to have worked up such an appetite.

Her daughters needed no encouragement. Soon they were all sitting around, eating and waiting on their mother’s pronouncement.

At last the final bite of cake disappeared. It was typical of Charlotte not to begin speaking while she might have even a crumb of food left in her mouth.

“Now, listen closely,” she told her daughters. “I’m not sure when we’ll have another moment alone.”

“We’re listening,” Lucia said.

The dessert plate issued a refined pinging noise as Charlotte set it on the coffee table. “You know how hard I’ve worked all these years at the shipping company. It wasn’t entirely by choice, I assure you.”

“We know it was for our welfare,” Amelia said.

“After my husband and my father died, the business was in turmoil,” Charlotte said. “Twenty years ago, the world wasn’t as accepting of women executives as it is today.”

CeCe could sympathize with what her mother must have endured. She’d met with her share of patronizing remarks from competitors and potential clients, and found them infuriating.

“Although you were safe in Hester’s hands, I wish I could have spent more time with the three of you,” their mother continued. “I know I wasn’t always there for the moments when you needed someone to talk to.”

A break in her voice revealed a rare vulnerable side of Charlotte. However, despite the sacrifices, CeCe knew that her mother wouldn’t have had things any other way. Fierce pride had motivated her to seize the helm of the company when she might have sold it or looked to her father’s family for assistance.

“Most of all, I regret not raising you with a greater appreciation of your father’s heritage,” she said. “It isn’t entirely the king’s fault that we drifted apart. I take some of the blame on myself.”

“I’m not sure how much more we could appreciate it without living there full-time,” Lucia said. “We’re Americans, after all.”

“You have dual citizenship and don’t forget it!” said her mother. “If I’d had any inkling that this day would ever come…well, I can only hope that CeCe will rise to the occasion. If she doesn’t, you two other girls must keep yourselves available. I won’t tolerate excuses. Do I make myself clear?”

CeCe’s cheeks flamed at the suggestion that she might be found lacking. Despite her pregnancy, she couldn’t tolerate the thought of failing her family, especially her mother.

She’d always felt a duty to assist her mother, even if Charlotte rarely seemed to notice. As a teenager, CeCe had fussed with pretty dresses and social occasions only when her mother required it. Mostly, she’d devoted herself to her studies and to working part-time at the shipping company, learning the business from the ground up.

Now she was ready to take on the monarchy. The fact that she might not be allowed to, that she might bring disgrace on herself and her family just when everyone’s hopes were riding on her, made CeCe want to cry.

Well, she wouldn’t cry. She never cried, or hardly ever. Somehow, she was going to find a way to save face and pull this whole thing off.

SHANE WISHED HE COULD READ CeCe’s thoughts. Something must be buzzing through her mind, he’d concluded during brunch. Fortunately, the Chinese trade representative, Mr. Wong, hadn’t appeared to notice anything amiss.

To someone who knew her well, CeCe’s attention seemed scattered. At the same time, she’d changed in a subtle way that made her coloring more vivid and her manner less brisk. Shane couldn’t stop looking at her.

When they left the restaurant, he was glad to find that the sun had come out. Despite the winter chill, across the street women were pushing baby carriages through Central Park while college-age skateboarders whizzed past.

“Let’s take a walk,” he said after Mr. Wong departed in a taxi.

CeCe regarded him suspiciously. “A walk?”

“I’ll escort you to your apartment building, if you like,” Shane said. “Or are you heading to the office?”

“The apartment.” She pushed a wing of blond hair off her temple and started to step off the curb against the light.

He grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong with you today?”

“I’m a little distracted,” CeCe said.

“Tell me it’s the effect of my boyish charm,” Shane teased.

“Sorry, but it isn’t.”

The light changed and they crossed in a swarm of people. For no logical reason, he found himself wanting to protect her against jostling passersby.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again. “Anything I can help you with?”

CeCe’s eyes widened. “You want to help me?”

“If I can.” He wondered if she was surprised by the idea that a woman in her lofty position might need anything from a man who’d had to claw his way up in the world. No, he thought, CeCe had never struck him as a snob. “What’s going on?”

“It’s…personal,” she said.

Personal. That might mean she was seeing another guy. Shane disliked that notion thoroughly.

They veered onto a park path. Most of the other strollers were elderly people or mothers with young children. A couple of students, book bags at their feet, sat on a park bench, smooching.

On the lake, a few brave souls were ice skating. One tiny ballerina spun around three times and then, losing her balance, plopped onto her rear end.

“So is he in the shipping business, too?” Shane asked.

“Is who in the shipping business?”

“This personal problem,” he said.

CeCe burst out laughing. “I don’t believe you said that!”

She thought he was jealous, Shane realized. Of course he wasn’t. “Not that I care,” he added.

“It’s my family,” CeCe said. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you any more than that. They’re very strict about privacy.”

Not having had a family since he was twelve, Shane had no idea what sort of matters families kept to themselves. He didn’t enjoy feeling like an outsider. “We’re practically partners. Your business is my business.”

“This isn’t business,” CeCe corrected him. The cold air stung her cheeks and brightened her eyes, or perhaps the sunlight merely highlighted the changes Shane had noticed in the restaurant.

He decided not to pursue the subject. Instead, he made conversation about Mr. Wong and how their meeting had gone.

CeCe relaxed. Any minute, he thought, she’d let slip whatever was bothering her and then he could help her fix it.

SHE OUGHT TO TELL SHANE about the pregnancy, CeCe thought. But if she did, she would have to mention the repercussions involving her grandfather’s visit and his offer to make her queen, both of which were state secrets.

It wasn’t as if Shane was eager to be a father, she reminded herself. He’d made it clear how much he disliked children.

Also, from working in a mostly male environment, CeCe knew that most men’s reaction to a problem was to leap in with an instant solution. That worked all right in business situations. When it came to personal matters, however, she would find it highhanded and infuriating.

She didn’t want to get irritated with Shane today. His presence comforted her, even though she couldn’t confide in him.

Central Park was a different place when she was with him. Usually, she walked through it mentally reviewing reports and formulating plans for DeLacey Shipping.

Today, she didn’t want to concentrate on anything but Shane. The pattern of light and shadow falling across his face fascinated her. So did the vulnerable twist of his mouth.

Despite his protestations, what kind of father would he make? CeCe watched a mittened toddler tossing a ball with his father and tried to picture Shane in the man’s stead. She couldn’t make the stretch.

At least his company was peaceful. So peaceful that it wasn’t quite normal.

“I know what’s missing,” she said.

“What?”

“Your cell phone’s not ringing.”

“Neither is yours,” he said.

“I turned it off during brunch. So did you, I guess.” When he nodded, CeCe said, “Maybe we should both turn them on.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t.”

He moved closer. Despite their coats, she could feel heat radiating from his body. It made her itch to slide her hands inside his clothing and stroke his chest.

If she became queen, she would have to choose a husband who could reign alongside her, presumably someone from European nobility. CeCe hoped it was possible for her to get this excited about being close to another man. If she couldn’t, well, she supposed that was the price a queen had to pay.

But right now, she had Shane to herself. There were so many details of his life that she wondered about, and it might be her last chance to ask him.

“Do you mind if I ask you something personal?” she said.

“Go ahead.”

“I’ve heard the stories about your being an orphan.” Seeing nothing in his expression to indicate she was trespassing on forbidden territory, she continued, “I’ve read that you built a struggling air-freight company into a major contender by carving out your own niche in the package-delivery business.”

“You left out the part about my dogged work ethic and brilliant flashes of insight,” Shane joked. “Otherwise, you got it right.”

“What I never understood was how you got your hands on an air-freight company in the first place,” CeCe said.

“CPR,” he replied cryptically.

She tried to place the initials. “Is that a venture capitalist firm?”

“It stands for cardiopulmonary resuscitation.”

“Oh, that kind of CPR,” CeCe said.

“They taught it to us at the group home. Part of our health-and-safety training.” Shane moved her gently aside as a messenger’s bicycle whizzed past, its bell ringing. “Probably they figured we ruffians might give the counselor a heart attack.”

“What’s the connection to air freight?” she asked as they strode with their long legs in sync.

“While I was in high school, I got a part-time job at an air-freight company at Long Beach Airport,” Shane said. “The owner, Morris O’Day, suffered a heart attack my third day on the job. While everyone else was waiting for the paramedics, I administered CPR.”

“You saved his life?” CeCe asked.

“So Morris believed,” Shane said. “Once he recovered, he took me under his wing and taught me the business.”

“You must have impressed him in a lot of ways. He wouldn’t have wasted his time on you otherwise.” The teenage Shane, although no doubt slighter of build and less polished, must still have been a force to reckon with.

“We became friends,” he said quietly. “Morris took the place of the father I’d scarcely known. My mentor, that’s how I describe him to people, but he meant much more to me than that.”

“You’re speaking in the past tense,” CeCe said. “Did he die?”

“Five years later, when I was twenty-two, he suffered another heart attack.” Shane’s pace slowed. “That time, I couldn’t save him. Later, I was astonished to learn that he’d willed me the company. The assets were mortgaged and the planes were outdated, but it gave me a start.”

“He didn’t have any family?” CeCe couldn’t imagine such isolation. “How sad that he didn’t have a wife or a child. He worked so hard and then he had no heir.”

“He did have an heir—me,” Shane said crisply.

CeCe saw that she’d offended him. “Of course. You meant a lot to him.”

“I’ve had to blaze my own trail. So did Morris,” Shane snapped. “I guess that’s hard for you to understand.”

“What do you mean? I’ve had to…” She stopped herself in midsentence.

She’d intended to say that she’d had to work hard, but so what? There was no denying that her path had been paved. Much as CeCe hated to admit it, she would never have become executive veep at twenty-nine if she weren’t the owner’s daughter.

She knew that, with her drive and organizational abilities, she’d have made a success of herself one way or another. Not on the scale that Shane had, however, or at least not as rapidly. For one thing, she couldn’t get by on five hours’ sleep a night, as he was reputed to do.

They reached the west side of the park and headed for her apartment building a block away. CeCe wished she could undo the offense she’d given by her thoughtless remark about Morris.

Making truces came so easily to her sister Amelia. If only CeCe could borrow a pinch of her kind nature before it was too late.

“I didn’t put things very well,” she said, by way of preamble.

“You said what you meant. There’s no need to apologize for the fact that you and I look at the world from very different perspectives.” Shane spoke in an even, impersonal tone. “We’re about as different as two people can be. I don’t hold that against you, and I hope you don’t hold it against me, either.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re leaving much room for us to meet in the middle,” CeCe said.

“Was there ever any hope of that?”

She had to be honest with him, and herself. “I guess not.”

In front of her building, they shook hands formally. “I’ll keep in touch about the negotiations with Wuhan Novelty,” Shane said, and walked away.

CeCe drank in the sight of his broad shoulders as he cut through the slow-moving tide of pedestrians. Her palm tingled where it had touched his moments before.

If her grandfather still wanted her to be queen after he learned of her pregnancy, she might not be handling the Wuhan negotiations, CeCe realized with a start. That meant there was a scary chance that she might never see Shane O’Connell again.

When she glanced back at the street, he’d disappeared.