Читать книгу I Married A Prince - Kathryn Jensen - Страница 10

Two

Crown prince, indeed. “A college grad like you ought to be able to come up with a better line than that!” Allison huffed as she threw herself into her car and drove toward Diane’s house.

Maybe she’d hang around for an hour or two, help her sister with the day-care kids. She had been exhausted when she left the library, but her fury had energized her. If Cray was feeling better, she could give Diane a hand with the chores. Besides, delaying her return to the beach house might be wise. If Jay was feeling particularly pigheaded, he might try to intercept her again at her home. She didn’t think Jay...Jacob...whoever, would remember where her sister lived.

Allison pulled up in front of the tidy driftwood gray Cape Cod three blocks back of the water and halfway across town. She didn’t lock the car, but on second thought took the keys with her. Nanticoke was a small, peaceful town, but she didn’t believe in tempting fate or some teenager looking for a joyride. Just last week, two fifteen-year-olds too lazy to walk to school had “borrowed” her neighbor’s car. The police had found it parked in the high school parking lot. Dumb kids.

She let herself in through the kitchen door without knocking, plucked an apple from the red plastic bowl on the table and bounced down the cellar stairs to the finished rec room where Diane spent most of her days with her charges.

The children were clustered around her, sitting on a mat on the floor, while Diane read to them from a picture book with a comical bear on the cover. Allison crossed her ankles and lowered herself to the floor, munching on her apple, feeling her pulse slow to a calmer pace. Cray spotted her and pushed himself up from the floor. He toddled over, grinning and chattering unintelligibly, and trustingly dropped into her lap.

Allison wrapped her arms around her little boy and hugged him, rocking back and forth. “You make everything all right, you know that?” she whispered into the feathery tufts of dark hair above his ear.

He gurgled contentedly as she swept stray bangs off his forehead. His skin felt cool and the feverish glaze over his eyes was gone. She was relieved to see him looking better.

After the story was over, Diane deposited each child in a high chair. Allison helped her pour juice and pass out pretzels for a final snack of the day. She felt herself gear down another notch and chuckled softly. Times like this, she thought, a girl really has to keep her sense of humor.

“What’s so funny?” Diane asked.

“Hard to explain,” Allison replied, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“Try me.”

She drew a long breath. “I saw Cray’s father.”

Diane dropped the bag of pretzels. Crumbs scattered across the playroom floor. “Jay?” Her cheeks flushed red and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “That creep. The nerve of him crawling back now. What does he want?”

“I’m not sure,” Allison said, thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t trust him under the best of conditions. But he told me a weird story about his being a prince and living on a yacht.” She laughed out loud. “Prince of Elbia! You’d think he could come up with something more believable, if he wanted to impress a girl.”

Diane stooped to pick up the plastic bag that had split down one side. “Elbia? Isn’t that the postage-stamp-size country near Austria that’s been in the news lately?”

Allison shrugged. “Who knows. I don’t have time to keep up with international politics these days. Every spare moment I’ve either been cataloging the new books or taking care of Cray. Last Sunday, I even took him with me while I worked overtime.”

“Wait here,” Diane said. “Pass out another round of goodies, if there’s enough.” She shoved the bag into Allison’s hands.

A minute later she was back downstairs with a broom in one hand, a full pitcher of juice in the other and the New York Times tucked under one arm. She set down the pitcher and broom, and spread the paper on the table. “I know I heard something about a meeting at the United Nations, an Eastern European coalition...something like that.” She frantically flipped pages while Allison looked over her shoulder, wondering if her sister had gone mad. “The president was going to meet with delegates. One was this young...” She stopped flipping and pointed triumphantly at a photograph in the middle of the right-hand page. “There. Crown Prince Jacob von Austerand. Gee, I would never have connected him with some grad student from Connecticut but...” She wrinkled her nose, considering. “Alli, he does look a lot like Jay...with a couple of years under his belt.”

Allison snatched up the newspaper section. She stared at the black-and-white UPI photo of three men in expensive business suits. The tall wide-shouldered one shaking hands with the President of the United States was Jay, no doubt about it.

Her eyes dropped quickly to the caption, and she read it out loud. “Prince Jacob von Austerand of Elbia congratulates the president after his speech before the Eastern Unity Conference on Tuesday.”

“The creep,” Diane muttered, picking up the broom to sweep violently at the tile floor. “Egotistical playboy. People with money make me sick. They think they can do anything they want...doesn’t matter who gets hurt.”

Allison frowned at her sister, trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle, for which she seemed to have only half the pieces. Now that she focused on the scraps of news she’d heard over the radio or glimpsed on TV, she remembered hearing things about a playboy prince. He’d been linked romantically with Hollywood actresses, wealthy socialites, even one female rock singer. Was that Jay...Jacob? If so, how had she fit in with all those glamorous women?

“I—I can’t believe he’s who he says he is,” she stammered, her voice rising in panic. “Diane? How could I not have known? The man’s a public figure...a celebrity!”

Diane stopped sweeping and patted her arm. “Why would you know? Even if someone recognized him, he could easily pretend he just looked like the prince. Apparently, he likes playing games with women. He has a pretty wild reputation, you know.”

“I know...of course, I know. He’s right up there with the Kennedys and the British royals.” Allison suddenly felt deflated, hollow inside. She shook her head. “So I was just another amusing affair for him....”

“Apparently,” Diane said, using a wet cloth to wipe crumbs from a toddler’s chubby cheeks. “Hey, consider yourself lucky. Now that you know the truth, it should be that much easier to put the jerk out of your mind.”

“He was out of my mind, until he showed up at the library today.”

“Was he? Out of your mind, that is.” Diane cast her a skeptical look. “It’s not like you’ve been dating anyone else in the two-plus years since he disappeared.”

“That’s not because I’m hung up on him,” Allison insisted. “I just have to be more careful who I see, now that Cray’s around.”

“Right.” Diane rolled her eyes. “So, are you going to see him? Jacob?”

“Are you crazy? Of course, I’m not going to see him. There’s nothing that could make me set foot on that yacht or anywhere else he happens to be.”

The doorbell rang at precisely 7:00 p.m. that evening. When Allison answered it, a man in a brown deliveryservice uniform was standing on her front step, holding a large box in front of his face.

“Yes?” she asked, certain there had been a mistake. She hadn’t ordered anything by mail recently.

“Miss Allison Collins?”

She frowned, for the first few seconds unable to place the voice. “Jacob?”

He lowered the box and rested his chin on it, to gaze at her with a wicked smile.

“What are you doing here?”

“Delivering a package,” he said simply. “It’s pretty heavy. I’d better bring it inside for you.”

He pushed past her into the living room, stopping to look around when he reached the middle of the room. “Cozy. I remember your colonial decor—not bad reproductions.”

Allison trailed after him, sputtering her exasperation. “Get out of here this minute! Take whatever’s in that box with you.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want me to do that,” he responded and set the package down on her mother’s rock maple coffee table. “You wouldn’t have anything to wear to the party tomorrow night, if I took it away.”

She planted her feet at shoulders’ width, folded her arms across her chest, and glared at him. “What party?”

“The one I’m throwing on the Queen Elise tomorrow night. You’re invited.” He removed the stiff-brimmed uniform cap and combed his fingers through thick black waves. “Aren’t you going to open it?” He nudged his chin toward the box.

Allison lost her last strand of self-control. “No!” she shouted, rushing at him. “I want you out of my house...out of my life...out, out, out...now!”

He fell back a step, observing her as if she were a rare animal, recently captured but not yet identified...and certainly not tamed.

“Out!” she screamed.

A piercing wail rose above her voice.

Oh, no, she thought. Not now, Cray. Why hadn’t she been more careful to keep her voice down?

Jacob turned toward the hallway, his eyebrows arched, questioning. “What’s that?”

Allison thought of a half dozen lies on the spot. It’s my sister’s child; I’m baby-sitting. That’s the neighbor’s baby. The TV is on in the bedroom. None of them worked.

“That’s my son,” she said finally. “Now, if you’ll leave, I’ll go and take care of him.”

Jacob scowled. “Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”

“I’m not.”

“I see.” He took a step back. Somewhere among the planes of his face, a hardness grew and solidified. “I should have known a pretty woman like you wouldn’t be alone for long.” His eyes wandered toward the hallway. “That doesn’t sound like an infant’s cry.”

“Cray is fifteen months old, if you must know,” she said without thinking. Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. The man wasn’t stupid.

“Fifteen months?”

She followed the tiny motions of his eyes, which grew faster by the second.

“I’d like you to leave now,” she said stiffly, desperate to get him out of the house, away from her son. She was having trouble breathing. “I have to get Cray settled down for the night. He hasn’t been feeling well.”

“Who is the father?” Jacob asked, his voice taut with emotion.

Allison leveled her sternest look at him. “That is none of your business. Go. Leave!”

The levels of emotion that crossed Jacob’s face were more frightening than any words he might have spoken. Instead of turning toward the door, he lurched forward, stopping inches from where she stood. His hands shot forward, vised her shoulders. He glared down at her, his eyes hot, bright chips of obsidian—blacker than black.

“I’ll leave after you tell me the name of the father.”

“Maybe I just don’t know.” She couldn’t help baiting him. He deserved it, didn’t he?

“I’m supposed to believe that around the time we were together, you were sleeping with a handful of other men, too?”

“Why not?” she challenged him. “I could have been.”

His hands tightened painfully on her shoulders. “You’re not that kind of woman.”

Cray was still crying from the back room, but no longer urgently.

“How would you know?” she said, her eyes falling away from his, despite her determination to give as good as she got. “You didn’t hang around long enough to get to know me.”

“I knew you well enough, Alli.” Jacob bent over her, capturing her eyes once more with his. “I knew you inside and out—every inch of your body, every corner of your sweet, generous soul.”

In one quick move, he released her shoulders but enclosed her in his arms. She could feel the heat of his body through their clothing. His lean, hard strength met her soft curves. He pressed her to him, and she could feel that he was aroused. Knowing that embarrassed her.

But not enough to make her struggle to be released. Some secret need or inner force kept her from fighting him. It had been so long, so very long since a man had held her. There had been a few dinners or group movie dates, arranged by Diane or one of her girlfriends. But she hadn’t encouraged a second meeting or allowed herself to be alone with a man. Now she realized how much she’d missed the intoxicating sensations that were rushing through her body.

Cray’s cries had turned to sleepy whimpers. She wished he’d let out a long, hearty scream to give her an excuse for breaking out of Jacob’s arms. She wished she had more willpower than she seemed to have at the moment. She wished...wished that Jacob would stop doing whatever it was he was doing.

His thumb stroked the side of her breast through her cotton sweater. Fiery tongues licked through her, making her knees feel weak. “Don’t do that,” she whispered.

“Tell me the name of the baby’s father?” Jacob said, his voice rumbling in his chest, vibrating against hers.

“I—I can’t.”

“You can’t. That’s different from you don’t know.”

Allison felt incapable of accomplishing anything more demanding than continuing to breathe in and out. And she wasn’t too sure she could keep that up for much longer. She was powerless to mold her thoughts into words.

“I can’t, Jay...Jacob...don’t make me...”

“Make you what?” His lips were less than an inch from hers. She could taste the spicy tang of his breath passing between them, smell subtle traces of male perspiration, feel a tension within his body that seemed to radiate through his skin and slip beneath hers.

She closed her eyes, steeling herself with a moment of darkness and silence, shutting herself off from him visually, although she felt him all around her.

“Jacob, he’s all I have. You left. Please stay away. I can’t deal with this.”

She felt all the strength rush out of the man. His hands dropped away from her and he stepped back. “My God,” he breathed. “He is my child.”

Her eyes flew open in sudden terror. “No! He’s mine, just mine and no one else’s.”

Jacob stared at her as if he still didn’t believe what he knew in his soul must be true. “Someone is that child’s father. Let me see him. I’ll know.”

“No!” she shouted. “Get out. Get out or I’ll call the police. I swear I will!”

He reached out for her, but she dodged away. A terror unlike any she’d ever experienced raced through her, blinding her to all thoughts but one. If Jacob was who he claimed to be—the man whose picture Diane had showed her in the newspaper—he had power and money enough to do anything he wished. Anything.

That included taking her child away from her, if he could prove he was Cray’s father. Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that she might be in real danger of losing Cray. She’d believed all she had to fear was another bruising to her heart and pride.

This was worse, far worse.

“Listen to me, Alli,” Jacob begged in a hoarse whisper. “No one is going to hurt you or that baby. You have my word.”

Maybe it was because she heard a subtle undercurrent of fear in his voice that she felt comforted. She kept her distance but turned toward him. His dark eyes looked sad, confused. This was all new to him. As he stood there, he must have been absorbing the various concepts attached to fatherhood, one at a time, but very rapidly. She’d had fifteen months to become comfortable with being a mother.

Jacob spoke to her again, his voice uneven. “I’m not going to hurt you again. I’m sorry. I didn’t know...didn’t realize—” He let the unfinished thought go. He turned his head away as if uneasy with meeting her gaze. He blinked at the wall and held himself rigid in the middle of her living room unsure of which way to move, or whether he should move at all.

Allison reached out one hand and touched the arm of her couch. Slowly, she let herself down onto a lumpy cushion, then dropped her head into her hands. “If you mean what you say about not hurting me, you’ll leave now,” she whispered dully.

“Is that really what you want?”

“Haven’t I said so a dozen times?” she moaned. “Just go away...and don’t come back.”

She heard him pacing the carpet, cursing beneath this breath. She sensed him standing over her, studying her...and she kept her eyes closed, her palms pressed over her eyes, blocking him out as best she could, as she prayed he’d do what she asked.

But when the door closed with a faint, irrevocable click, Allison felt something fragile shatter inside of her.

“Jacob?” she whispered, dropping her hands and staring at the door. “Jacob?”

The rental car was a shiny white Lincoln Continental—plush, smelling new-car pungent, richly upholstered in buff-colored butter-soft leather. Its luxurious interior contrasted sharply with the simple, homey furnishings of Alli’s beach house.

Jacob had stood helplessly over her as she collapsed onto the cheap plaid upholstered couch, which looked like something older people might have bought decades earlier and left with the house. Or maybe it was one of Alli’s yardsale treasures. He actually didn’t remember it from the summer they’d spent together.

But now he was unable to get the damn colors of the room out of his head. Shades of rust and gold matched the mustard-colored carpet that looked carefully maintained to last another twenty years. Nothing he’d seen in the house was of any real worth, except for a few pieces of antique porcelain displayed on a sideboard. The whole lot would have brought a couple hundred dollars on the auction block—less than the cost of the hand-tailored silk shirt he wore.

Back when they’d been together, she hadn’t seemed so different from him. They both loved books. They talked endlessly about their favorite kinds of music, art, literature. She daydreamed about traveling to foreign lands. He’d played along, promising to take her wherever she wanted—Rome, Vienna, Paris, Madrid—not letting on he’d already been to all the places she dreamed of visiting. And she’d laughed at him, never suspecting that he had the power to do all that he said.

Today, she seemed to him to come from another world—one where people proudly pinched pennies to afford new slipcovers, one where a two-bedroom single-bath cottage was large enough to raise a family with three or four kids. One where a young woman’s pride and love were worth more than any amount of money.

On top of all that—the existence of the child was a total shock. He had always been so careful. Hadn’t his father’s closest adviser, Frederik, constantly stressed to a young prince the dangers of unprotected contact with young women? He must have been no more than twelve years old the first time he’d suffered through the lord counselor’s tedious lecture. But soon it had come to make more sense to him. Not only was health an issue, there were vast financial and dynastic considerations.

If a young woman appeared on the castle’s doorstep with a baby, claiming it had been sired by the crown prince...at the very least, the world press corps would have a field day. But if she could actually prove the child was Prince Jacob’s bastard, all hell would break loose in Elbia. She’d have to be paid off, and handsomely. A million dollars to silence her and support the child wouldn’t be too much.

Jacob understood that his father, his cabinet and royal advisers wouldn’t object to his sowing his proverbial oats as long as he did so discreetly, with no embarrassing repercussions. During his late teen years and throughout his twenties, he’d had frequent opportunities to practice discretion. He quickly learned that money and fame were powerful aphrodisiacs. Women were more than willing to share their bodies with him, just to say they’d slept with a real prince. And he was generous during his brief affairs. He bought his lovers expensive gifts—jewelry, cars, expensive clothing. One charming lady had even merited a profitable boutique on the Rue de la Seine in Paris, in return for a few months’ companionship. If they were at all disappointed when he left them, they didn’t complain. His parting gifts had a consoling effect.

Alli had been different.

The day in June when he’d met her on the beach, he’d somehow sensed she wasn’t the kind of girl to be impressed by a title or seeing a lot of cash thrown her way. There was a quality about her that transcended the world he’d come to know. She smiled, and his heart warmed. She laughed, and he felt life was simple and free of the stifling obligations that awaited him back home in Elbia.

Alli loved books and worked in a library. Books had been his only friends as he’d grown up in a cold, friendless castle overlooking the valley of his homeland. He felt good around her. He felt like a normal man—not someone whose destiny was determined at birth, who had no choice in career or home or mate.

He had chosen her for a few weeks of love and friendship and he’d been so happy living in her world, if only for that short time.

Unlike all the other times, he had not told his mistress who he was. He was sure that if he had, Alli wouldn’t have become involved with him or allowed him to stay. For then she’d understand he couldn’t remain with her, even if he’d wanted to. That was where he’d most cruelly deceived her. He’d known she was falling in love with him. He’d known he was going to have to hurt her. But he hadn’t been man enough to stay and see her tears when he said goodbye.

As he thought about these things, Jacob started the car and began driving. He didn’t pay much attention to where the road was taking him until he steered into the marina’s parking lot. He left the car for the valet to park, waved down the launch and climbed aboard. He pointed at the Queen Elise, then stood in the bow, ignoring the pleasant chatter of the young man who piloted the water taxi to the larger ships anchored offshore. All the while, Jacob kicked himself for looking up Alli again.

Before today, he’d been haunted by her in ways he couldn’t have explained to himself and wouldn’t have even tried to rationalize for Thomas, Frederik or his father. There had been women after Alli, but they hadn’t excited him as she had. Thoughts of her had unexpectedly come to him at the worst possible moments—interfering with his ability to enjoy intimacy or make important decisions that would affect his future.

By seeing her again, he’d hoped to put his head right. Get her out of his system, as he’d told Thomas. She’d be fifty pounds heavier and totally out of shape. She’d have married a brute of a trucker with a pierced nose...be saddled with two whiny brats who, sadly, resembled their beerguzzling dad.

But she wasn’t any of those things. She was as sweet and innocent and perfect as when they’d been together. And she turned him on something fierce whenever they touched, even more so when they’d kissed. He wasn’t over her, he thought dismally. Not by a long shot.

But far worse, he’d learned he had a son. And that was a problem he couldn’t walk away from.

Alli might swear to him that she’d never make the paternity of her child public knowledge, and she probably would keep that promise. But what if some snoopy reporter got hold of the information despite her vow of silence? What if someone close to Alli decided there was money to be made by selling her secret?

All of that aside, Jacob didn’t know if he could be low enough to turn his back on a child he’d created. Just the thought of having a son drew emotions from him he didn’t know he had. Pride...concern...responsibility...The others were far too confusing to even begin to analyze.

He slumped against a crate being ferried to one of the boats in the cove as the sleek launch zipped between expensive pleasure boats, heading for the one that dwarfed all the rest, the Queen Elise. He remembered he hadn’t taken Alli’s package with him, then shrugged. What did it matter now? Whether or not she accepted his gift or came to his party was the least of his worries.

Alli stood over Cray’s crib, looking tenderly down at her son as he napped. A wave of such intense emotion washed over her, its force nearly knocked her off of her feet. She loved the little boy, as any mother loved her child. But now she feared for him, as she feared for herself.

Jacob.

Why had he come back?

He had acted surprised when Cray started crying in his bedroom. Had that reaction been an honest one? Or had he known all along that she had given birth to his child?

An icy shiver curled through her. Of course, a man like Jacob had all sorts of ways of keeping track of people. What if he’d been informed of Cray’s existence many months ago? What if he was only now getting around to coming to Connecticut to claim his son?

The possibility terrified her.

But there was something wrong with that reasoning, she told herself. If having a son meant anything to him, why had he waited so long? Why hadn’t he shown up while she’d been pregnant? During those trying emotional months, she’d been at her weakest. She’d been so very afraid she wouldn’t know how to take care of a child, and wouldn’t be capable of supporting herself and Cray on her meager pay. If Jacob had known she was about to have his baby, why hadn’t he shown up then?

Maybe he was up to something far worse than she’d imagined. He wanted something from her, or he wouldn’t have come back. Until she knew exactly what that was, she wouldn’t be able to protect herself or her son from him.

After draping a light blanket over Cray and touching his fuzzy little head one last time, Allison slowly made her way out to the kitchen at the back of the house. She brewed herself a cup of hot tea and took it into the living room. There, on the floor, sat the large dark mauve box Jacob had brought earlier.

Allison sat on the couch, staring speculatively at the unmarked package while she sipped her tea. I don’t care what’s in there, she thought. It’s going back.

But how? she asked herself. She could pay someone to take the thing back to him on his stupid boat. But why should she go to the expense when money was already tight? What she should do was shove the unopened box in the trash. That would show him!

But the thrifty New Englander in Allison wouldn’t allow her to throw away a perfectly good...perfectly good what? What would she be throwing away?

She glared at the box, imagining something evil and threatening lurking inside the innocent-looking but interestingly colored cardboard. Pandora’s box—the classic tease. Why was he doing this to her? Had he intentionally left the thing to torment her, knowing she couldn’t stop herself from opening it?

Acting on impulse, Allison set her mug on the coffee table and stood up. She approached the box warily, from the side, as if afraid something alive might leap out of it at any moment, baring its fangs at her. Reaching down, she slipped her fingers inside one flap and tore the box open.