Читать книгу The Royal and The Runaway Bride - Kathryn Jensen - Страница 10

Alex’s first awareness that anything had gone wrong was the sudden pressure of hard earth beneath her body, where a leather saddle had been moments earlier. She made herself lie absolutely still, not daring to move. It was a position she remembered with no fondness from her teenage years, the last time she’d seriously ridden. The last time she’d jumped.

She kept her eyes closed and, one body part at a time, assessed her condition. Her head—aside from a dull headache, it didn’t feel bad. Thank goodness she’d worn a helmet. Her back—she gently contracted the muscles and felt her spine respond, straightening just a fraction of an inch but enough to reassure her that all was in working order. Her legs—she wiggled her toes and tightened the muscles in her legs. Her arms—well, the fingers could flex. She tried to push herself up onto one elbow now that things appeared to be functioning. A flash of white-hot pain sliced through her left shoulder.

“Ow!” she moaned and fell back down to the ground.

“Don’t try to get up!” a masculine voice ordered. “Devon,” Phillip shouted to one of his stable boys, “call Doctor Elgado. Tell him we need him immediately.”

“What happened?” Alex asked foggily, honestly remembering nothing beyond the moment she’d come around the circle after taking Eros over the rails laid out on the ground.

“You missed a two footer.”

She scowled and felt Phillip’s hand slide gently beneath her head, pillowing it and raising it even with the line of her neck and spine. “Why’d I do a dumb thing like—” Then it came back to her. Her little deception. Horse trainer, indeed!

“I’m sorry, Alex. Dear God, I’m so sorry.” Phillip’s voice was choked with emotion. “I just assumed you knew best. I should never have let you try to jump him.”

“He was doing so well…” she murmured, lapsing into a spell of dizziness.

“And you looked magnificent up there. Don’t waste your strength trying to talk. Do you know where you’re injured? Is it your back?”

“No, I think I’m okay there. But my shoulder, the one closest to your hand—”

His fingers softly kneaded the area around her shoulder blade, then forward in the soft hollow between her armpit and breast. She felt the area warm and tingle to his touch. Then she winced at the sudden sharp pain.

“Yes, there,” she said tightly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I can’t tell if anything’s broken. My physician will be here soon.”

She nodded. The ring’s dusty surface felt as hard as the limestone cliff she’d climbed earlier that day. “Do you think we could wait somewhere more comfortable?”

“I don’t want to move you if there’s any chance of spinal injury.”

“I’m sure there’s not,” she said. “Everything moves. No numbness anywhere, no pain except in the shoulder.”

“You can’t walk,” he objected, “and if I try to carry you I might hurt you.”

“This isn’t exactly cozy down here,” she said dryly. “Besides, you owe me, Prince.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled.

She opened her eyes to peek up at him as he carefully positioned himself over her and slipped one arm beneath her, taking care to support the injured shoulder against his chest as he rolled her toward him. When he lifted her, she felt a flash of raw fire in her shoulder and she squeezed her eyes shut. But she knew he was doing his best not to hurt her anymore. Once she was fully enclosed in his arms and he was standing erect, the pain lessened.

He carried her past rows of concerned faces as stable boys and household staff looked on.

“Someone ought to teach that horse the difference between up and down,” she grumbled aloud. Relieved laughter from his staff rewarded her effort to lighten the atmosphere.

“Is there anything I can do, sir?” a woman in an apron asked worriedly.

“Have Juan wait at the gate for the doctor and bring him straight to the parlor. Mint tea might be nice,” he added vaguely.

“Brandy would be nicer,” said Alex. “In a very big glass.”

The woman chuckled. “Brave girl. Brandy she is.” She cast Phillip a chastising glare. “Why you not warn her?”

“I did—I did!” He let explanations go on a long sigh.

Alex said nothing more until he had laid her down on a long, soft settee arranging pillows beneath her head and neck to support her. Pulling up a leather hassock, he sat close beside her, holding her hand between his two and bringing her fingertips to his bowed forehead as he closed his eyes tightly and muttered something to himself.

“What was that?” Alex asked.

“I’m sorry. I’m so very— I know Eros better than you. I should never have let you take him past a simple canter. It’s just that you’d convinced me that you were on the right track. All that talk about Eros’s fears, starting at the beginning, building his confidence.”

“Well, it’s what a rider does after she takes a fall so I figured why shouldn’t it work with a horse?” He looked blankly at her. “I mean,” she added hastily, “it’s worked so well with other horses I’ve trained.”

“You’re a daring young woman.” He shook his head and kissed her knuckles, his eyes wandering as he became lost in thought. She wondered if he was even aware of the intimacy of their position—he bending over her, his large hands enclosing her small one, his warm mouth lingering against the flesh of her curled fingers.

They stayed like that for a while longer, and she didn’t move, didn’t pull her hand away. Didn’t even want to lose touch with him. She knew that it was guilt, keeping him here beside her. But she didn’t mind as long as he stayed.

At last Phillip looked down at her and rolled his amber eyes in dismay. “How can I show you how sorry I am for this?”

She followed the line of his strong jaw with a lingering gaze. “Maybe I’ll think of something,” she murmured. He was incredibly handsome. Reckless, impulsive thoughts came to mind. Visions of his wide hands touching her in more intimate places. She felt a steamy flush wash over her entire body.

There was a commotion in the hallway outside the parlor and an older man in tropical casuals burst through the door and hastily crossed the room. He was carrying a small leather case and he immediately pushed Phillip aside to get close to Alex. “Your boy tells me the young lady took a bad fall.”

“Yes, Doctor. She was on Eros.”

“Couldn’t you have found a more reliable mount for her?” he chided Phillip. “Last time you jumped him, it was a fiasco.” Alex got the impression that the doctor must also be involved with European jumping to be so aware of the horse’s problems.

“I’ll explain later. Just look to her, will you?” Phillip snapped irritably.

Alex smiled, amused by his impatience. It was clear he was going to suffer through the disapproval of a lot of people for a long time because of her accident.

The doctor made everyone including Phillip leave the room while he opened her blouse and examined her shoulder, then he listened to her heart and checked her reflexes.

“Well?” she asked when he was done.

“You are in amazingly good shape for the spill you took, miss. But that shoulder is sprained. You’ll need to wear a sling to rest it until it heals.”

“How long will that take?” she asked.

He frowned, looking uncertain. “I’d give it a few weeks.” He took supplies from his bag. “This might hurt a bit while I adjust the tension of the sling. Do you want Phillip back in the room to hold your hand?”

She thought for a moment. “No. A little more of this fine brandy will do.” She took four very long swallows, draining the snifter. Immediately, a heady stream of warmth flowed through her throat, filling her chest and rushing out to the tips of her toes and fingers. She shut her eyes and braced herself. “Go for it, doc.”

Phillip paced the vestibule while his housekeeper looked on worriedly. “Are you sure, sir, there is nothing I can—”

“Nothing, Maria. Thank you. Just go on with—” He waved a dismissing hand. “Whatever.” No doubt she had been preparing their luncheon, which would never be eaten now.

Alone again, he stared helplessly at the closed door to the parlor. A single sharp cry of pain made him jump. He took three hasty steps toward the door, his hand reaching out for the knob. Then he stopped himself. The doctor had sent him out for good reason. He must respect Alex’s right to privacy.

Phillip bit down on his lower lip so hard he tasted the salt of his own blood. The outside door opened.

It was Paulus. “I was taking a walk through your fine garden while I waited, and heard there had been an accident.”

“Alex, yes. But she’s all right. The doctor says it’s a sprain.” Phillip had been listening at the door, unable to wait for an official announcement.

“I’ll call the palace and inform them.”

“Yes,” Phillip said, realizing that was probably something he should have been doing instead of all this useless pacing. “Thank you.”

A moment later, the door still hadn’t opened and Paulus returned. “King Daniel says I’m to bring her back with me as soon as the doctor says she is able to be moved.”

“Oh.” A shadow of dull, gray disappointment fell over Phillip. Why had he assumed Alex would remain here with him? “No,” he said hastily.

“No?”

“It was my fault, the accident. I didn’t warn her strongly enough. She should remain under my roof to recuperate.”

The man hesitated. “I…well, that’s not the king’s wish. It isn’t for me to say whether—”

“She’ll stay here,” Phillip stated, his mind made up. “I’ll speak with King Daniel. She shouldn’t be moved any more than is necessary.” He didn’t know that to be a fact, but it sounded a good enough reason. “I’m responsible for her condition, and I should see to her recovery.”

Paulus looked puzzled but didn’t argue further. “I will return to the palace with your message.”

“I’ll call as soon as I have my physician’s report.”

Phillip turned back toward the parlor door. It was quiet now inside. He hoped that was good news.

Alex was barely aware of the doctor leaving the room. The brandy had numbed her, and the pain in her shoulder had retreated to a dull ache as soon as the doctor finished messing with the sling. She nestled into the soft cushions of Phillip’s settee and drifted off to sleep.

She floated.

For the first time in weeks Alex felt detached from the terrible disappointment that had chased her halfway around the world to her brother’s new home, Altaria. She hadn’t planned to attend the ball in his honor, but it had provided a welcome escape from her troubles.

She remembered Robert’s words as he spoke to her friend Jessy and the cruel sound of his laughter, slurred by too much alcohol. “Love Alex? You’ve got to be kidding. But marrying her is well worth the sacrifice of my freedom in exchange for all I’ll gain from Connelly Corporation.”

She remembered every word as clearly as if he stood before her now, speaking them anew. Oh how she wished she’d listened to Justin’s words of warning. He knew that Robert was a womanizer, that Robert was just using her. Why hadn’t she seen the man for what he was? Tears filled her eyes as she slept.

A hand brushed the dampness from cheek. She blinked her eyes open.

Phillip bent over her, his honey-colored eyes concerned. “Is the pain bad?”

“No,” she whispered.

“It hurts enough to cry.”

She shook her head. “That’s something else. I’m being silly. Never mind.”

He frowned, obviously confused, but she wasn’t about to explain her aborted wedding to him.

“I’ve arranged for you to stay here,” he said.

“What?” She looked up at him, astonished. “Why would I want to do that?”

“You were injured on my property, so I’m responsible for your recovery. I intend to see to your care.”

“I see. And that will soothe your conscience?”

“Conscience aside, it’s only right.”

“I don’t know…” She tried to pull herself into a sitting position, but a sudden tightness in her shoulder promised pain she didn’t want to feel and she settled back down against the pillows. “The doctor said I’ll be fine walking around as long as I don’t move this.” She glanced sideways at her shoulder, resting in the white cotton sling. “He expects I’ll be pretty much back to normal in a couple of weeks.”

“I suppose you’d be more comfortable back in Chicago, in your own home.”

Back at Lake Shore Manor, she thought dismally, her parents’ home. Not in the house she had planned to share with Robert, before her dreams had shattered.

“I suppose,” she murmured.

“Oh, I almost forgot. The palace aide left a note for you.” He held out a folded piece of paper.

It was a telephone message taken by one of the palace secretaries in a pointy European-style script. It was from Robert. As she read it, ice crystals formed in her heart.

“Not bad news, I hope?” he asked.

Very bad news. Robert wanted her to come home. Robert wanted to explain his flirtation with Kimberly Lindgren and his disturbing comments to Jessy, to make things right, to try again and set a new date for the wedding.

Fat chance, buddy, she thought, tears nearly coming to her eyes again. She hadn’t known him as well as she’d thought she did. Just well enough to realize that the words he’d spoken to her maid of honor the night before their wedding were from the heart and true to his character.

Robert didn’t love her. Perhaps she’d sensed that from the start but refused to admit it to herself. She had so desperately wanted love, marriage, a family of her own, and there he was offering her these things in his oh-so-charming way. But he loved only what she could bring him—wealth, her father’s power and influence, a future of success that depended little on his own effort or ingenuity.

And if she didn’t return to Chicago, what then? He would come after her. She was certain of that much because he was a determined man. Without her, without their marriage, he had nothing but a midmanagement position with her father’s company. That is, if Grant didn’t fire him outright once she explained to her parents her sudden disappearance from Chicago. She hadn’t yet found the strength to talk about her reasons for walking out on Robert on the eve of their wedding. Nor had she found the nerve to face Robert again. But she could at least make it difficult for him to find her until she was ready to face him.

“I’ll stay,” she said quickly.

“Really?” Phillip looked surprised after her earlier refusal.

“Yes,” she said and slid him a playful smile. “If only to milk your guilt.”

He grimaced. “It wasn’t my intention that you fall!”

“I know that,” she said, settling back against a fluffy pillow. “Still, if you should feel a teensy bit responsible you could bring me a cup of that wonderful smelling bouillabaisse you promised.”

He grinned. “It’s as good as done.”

Phillip didn’t know how long he could keep Alex in resting mode. She was like a little kid, constantly trying to find excuses to leave the couch when she was supposed to be quiet and not stress her shoulder. Although he could easily have asked his housekeeper or any one of the others on his staff to fetch things for her, he felt obligated to wait on her, personally. His employees found this highly entertaining, but he didn’t care. He’d make sure she gave her shoulder a chance to heal if it killed him.

By the time he returned to the parlor on the third day of her stay, carrying a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and a plump raisin scone, she was sitting on the edge of the settee.

“The doctor said you should rest. Lie down and I’ll pour for you,” he offered.

“I’m uncomfortable,” she complained, pouting at him. “Too much of this lying around must be bad for the circulation. I want to go outside.” She peered out the window. “It looks beautiful out there.”

“Rest,” he said.

“I could rest just as well on the chaise lounge on the terrace, I’ll bet my shoulder would warm up in the sunshine and heal faster.” She started to stand up.

He set the tray down with a sigh. “Very well, the terrace it is.”

She laughed at him as he scooped her up in his arms and strode out the open French doors into the Mediterranean sunshine. He deposited her on a cushioned chaise and looked down at her. “Better?”

“Much,” she said. “Thank you.”

He smiled, pleased he’d been able to once more delay her restlessness.

“Wait here. I’ll go get the tea.”

When he returned, she had rearranged her thin white cotton robe worn over a sea-green bikini to bare her long legs. He drew a sharp breath at the tug in his loins. She was stunning—the contrast between her pale ivory skin and her cropped, black hair. Her emerald eyes flashed up at him. He gulped. Unable to say what was really on his mind, he blurted out, “Sunscreen. I forgot the sunscreen.”

She shook her head at him. “Stop fussing over me. I’m fine.”

She was a darn sight more than just fine, Phillip thought when he returned, drew up a chair beside hers, and watched her smooth lotion from her toes, over her ankles, then up her calves, thighs and hips. Lust curled up hot and ready inside of him. He didn’t think he could risk staying with her any longer.

“If you’re comfy now,” he said, coughing to clear his suddenly tight throat, “I have some business I should attend to.”

“You can’t stay and keep me company?” she asked.

“If you want someone to talk to, I can send to the castle for someone.”

“Most of the guests would have left by now,” she said. “Besides, I don’t like them.”

“Any of them?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like rich people.”

He laughed. “I’m not exactly a pauper, woman, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re different,” she said, smoothing another dollop of lotion across the flat of her stomach, then circling her fingertips around her belly button. He followed the sensuous motion of her fingers with fascination. “You don’t put on airs and spend money for the thrill of it.”

“How do you know so much about me?”

“I’m good at figuring out people.” With one tragic exception, she thought, then chased that sad part of her life from her mind. Robert was no longer a concern. She had put him out of her life. “It’s sort of a hobby of mine, studying people and, sometimes, pretending to be like them.”

She tipped her head to one side and observed him, wondering if he’d take her hint. After all, sooner or later she’d have to tell him who she really was.

“Why is that?” Phillip asked.

“Whenever life gets boring you just step into someone else’s shoes.”

“I suspect it might be more than that,” he said thoughtfully. “Some people experiment with different roles because they’re trying to find out who they really are.”

She laughed, gave her head a shake and sipped her tea. Then she stared at him long and hard. “You think so?”

“Could be in your case. Maybe being a horse trainer isn’t what you’d most like to be.”

“But I love horses,” she objected, clinging to her role out of sheer stubbornness.

“And you were doing great with Eros. But that doesn’t mean your heart doesn’t yearn for something more than coddling wealthy folks’ pets.” She pouted at him, and he wished he could figure out what she was thinking at that moment. He suspected she was more than a little embarrassed by having taken the fall. “Never mind. Eros is a troubled spirit. If he hadn’t wanted you on him, he would have lost you long before that jump, despite all your experience.”

She considered that for a moment and felt a happy little thrill inside of her. She had done well, hadn’t she? Alex put down her teacup. “Do you know what I want more than anything?”

“A blueberry scone instead of the raisin?”

She waved him off. “No, silly. I mean, what I really, really want in life.”

“Oh, now we’re into the heavy stuff.” He shook his head, mocking her, and sat back down on the edge of her chaise to listen.

“I’m serious.” She straightened up, seized his hand and brought it into her lap. At once, he was conscious of the warmth of her flesh beneath the thin robe. “I want to be someone who makes a difference. I want to do something special and important with my life.”

“I’d say you have every opportunity to do that,” he commented. “Just choose. There are plenty of charities out there.”

“No!” she shouted, startling him with the emotion and strength in her voice. “That’s just it. I don’t want to chair committees or sponsor fund-raisers like rich women. I want to do things, not oversee others as they do them.”

He nodded. The urge was all too familiar. Hadn’t he felt restless, hemmed in by his estate and people’s expectations of him? He didn’t have to work to keep a roof over his head. He could travel anywhere he pleased. Yet he felt discontent.

“Do you know where Silverdorn is?” he asked her suddenly.

“You mean, your kingdom, Prince?” She shook her head.

“It no longer exists. At one time it was a small region on the border between France and Italy, a much-contested territory. My family lost it to other monarchs centuries ago, but we have retained our titles as tradition allows.”

She giggled.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded, offended that his family’s plight seemed humorous to her.

“You’re…homeless?”

He smiled slowly. “Not homeless…but country-less, yes. That does sound ridiculous, doesn’t it? Someone with as much wealth and property to be without a country.”

She was laughing harder now. “The homeless prince. Oh, oh God— Ouch!”

“Hurts, huh? Serves you right for making fun of the less fortunate,” he teased.

She cradled her aching shoulder with her good arm. “Cut it out. You’ll make me laugh harder.”

Tears formed in her pretty eyes, and Phillip perversely felt like doing something to make them shine even more. He reached out, making tickling motions with his fingers as he neared her stomach, and her eyes widened in panic.

“Don’t you dare! No fair torturing the wounded.”

“I think you’re far less wounded than you pretend,” he accused. “In fact, you’re so used to acting out roles, you probably don’t know who you really are.”

The look on her face stunned him to silence. Her laughter immediately ceased. Pushing herself up off the chaise with a flinch of pain, she walked away from him down the terrace steps toward the water.

“Alex, what did I say?” he called after her. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

She tugged her robe closer around her body and moved stiffly down the steps as he chased after her. “Just leave me alone.”

“No. Obviously I’ve hit on a sore spot. I’m sorry. I really am. Tell me why what I said offended you.”

She shook her head and kept on walking. He caught up to her with no trouble, as she was slowed down by her shoulder.

“Alex?” He stepped in front of her. There were tears again, but not happy ones. Her face was contorted in a secret agony. He carefully enfolded her in his arms, taking care not to put pressure on her injured shoulder. “Tell me. I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

She drew a shuddering breath and rested her cheek against his chest. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t know who I am. Not really.”

“But that was just a joke. You’re an excellent trainer, I’m sure. You just had a bad day. Besides, you’re too intelligent a woman not to know who you are.”

She looked up at him, green fire in her eyes. “Do you, Phillip? Do you know who you are?

“I’m not sure what you mean.” He was suddenly aware of the heat of her body, of the luscious curves, hollows and soft swells that were her breasts and hips. She was tucked into his body, and the scant clothing she wore seemed inconsequential protection. He was aroused.

Rotten timing, Kinrowan, he thought ruefully.

“You are a prince by title, without a kingdom. How else would you define yourself?” she demanded.

He didn’t know. “Well, I’m a man who loves horses and competes by jumping them. And I’ve always been fascinated by sailing and I have several boats.”

“I’m not talking about things you own,” she said sharply. “I’m talking about who you are, deep in your soul.”

He was at a loss. What was she talking about?

She pulled away from him to pace the path between the grand house and the intoxicatingly blue ocean. “All right. I’ll give you an example. Say there’s this young woman who has been raised in a wealthy family. All of her life, she’s had everything she ever wanted. Money was no object. All of her friends were rich, too. Because that’s the way people are. They group themselves by financial status, always wanting to be with their own kind, never wanting to associate with anyone with less in their bank accounts or who go to less prestigious schools.”

He wasn’t sure who she was talking about, but he didn’t interrupt her to ask.

“And this young woman wants more than anything to be special, not because of her father’s money, but because of something she herself can do or be. Something that’s her very own and from her heart. Only she can’t be special because she doesn’t know what that something is.” Her voice was so tight, he feared it might snap like a fragile crystal goblet.

She blinked up at him. “Or maybe she’s just someone who works in stables, but she still wants to be special. Then she thinks she finds it when she falls in love. And she begins to believe that she will be happy with the man she’s chosen, and they will have children together and live as anyone else in love does, regardless of how much or how little money they have. Because their love will transport them above the crudeness of the financial and social worlds they’ve been stuck in all of their lives.” She went dead silent, so suddenly it took him by surprise.

“That’s a lovely dream,” he said quietly, not knowing what else to say. That last bit, he realized, she’d been talking about herself. “And does she find happiness with her true love?”

“She does, for a while. In fact, she follows the dream perfectly—choosing her bridesmaids, selecting a beautiful gown, ordering the cake and designing a lovely summer wedding on the lakeside. She is in heaven, or so she thinks, and then…” Her voice trailed off and tears flowed down her cheeks. Phillip ached to hold her again, but he sensed she wouldn’t allow him to comfort her.

“And then,” he guessed, “the creep did something unspeakably horrible to spoil her dream.”

“The creep did indeed.” She angrily dashed the tears away with the heel of her hand. “I—she heard him talking to her maid of honor. Flirting. Bragging, really. He’d had too much to drink after the rehearsal party and he told the bride’s best friend that he was, in effect, marrying her for her—for her connection with the Connellys.”

“I see.” He felt her pain as his own. The story was too close to his experience with marriage. He didn’t want to hear the rest, but there was no stopping Alex. She dropped the pretense of disguising the bride as if she were someone other than herself.

“Of course, when I confronted him, he just laughed off my anger. He claimed he was just trying to shock Jessy. It was all a game, or so he said.”

“But you knew it was true,” he put in.

“Yes, it was all very clear suddenly. There were things he’d said and done while we were dating that I’d chosen to ignore or forgive. Suddenly they all made sense. He had even gone so far as to put off our honeymoon so that he could complete a project he was working on for Grant Connelly.”

“I can’t imagine any man not wanting to honeymoon with you, Alex,” he murmured, then bit his lip. Where had that come from?

She didn’t seem to have heard him. “There were other things. I knew he’d been using me, and I could see our future. I’d be just like so many of my girlfriends who married for what they thought was love, only to find they were assets. I couldn’t bear to be used that way.”

“So you walked out on him.”

“Yes. I did.” She looked down at her folded hands, her eyes dry now. “That phone message from several days ago. It was from him. From Robert.”

He could feel how difficult it was for her to even mention his name. “He wants to reconcile?”

She nodded. “Predictable. He’s not one to give up easily.”

“How has your family taken all of this?”

She shrugged. “They want me to be happy. The thing is, I haven’t told them yet what my reasons were for walking out on the wedding. When and if I do, I know they’ll support my decision.”