Читать книгу The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12 - Кейт Хьюит, Шантель Шоу - Страница 22

A MONARCH’S death left behind a void that must be filled quickly for the safety and stability of the kingdom and its people.

At first, all was confusion.

Despite Aegeus’s illness, his death had been sudden. The king’s private physicians tried every possible means to revive him but to no avail. The Karedes family clustered around the king’s lifeless body; the palace, filled with guests for the queen’s birthday celebration, buzzed with rumors. Andreas comforted his sisters. Sebastian, who as eldest son would, within hours, be named the Prince Regent, was immediately surrounded by guards whose duty it was to protect him, especially in times of turmoil. Alex held his mother in his arms.

Through it all—the loss of his father, his mother’s tears, his sister’s sobs, the stunned reactions of his brothers and his own shock—through all that, Alex found himself looking over the heads of those who’d crowded into the room. Where was Maria? He needed her. And, surely, she needed him. She’d been alone with his father at the moment of his death.

She needed his comfort. His arms. And he, God, he needed her.

A reporter and a couple of photographers had somehow slipped into the room; two of the guards were hustling them out. Had those guards, in error, forced Maria aside?

He was desperate to find her but Tia was distraught. He couldn’t leave her, not until she was calmer. He told himself not to worry. His Maria was smart. She was resourceful. She’d find his car, have his driver take her home. Or she’d wait for him in a quiet corner of the palace.

Soon, he’d be alone with her. And he’d tell her what he now knew had been in his heart for weeks. He loved her. He adored her. He could not imagine life without her.

He didn’t just want her to stay here, on Aristo, as his lover.

He wanted her to become his wife.

One thing about death, he thought as he led his mother from the room. It had a profound way of making a man see what really mattered.

And what mattered, the only thing that mattered, was Maria.

In the face of a nation’s grief and loss, tradition became its solace.

Aegeus would lie in state for three days. The Accession Council would meet to formally name Sebastian the Prince Regent, though by tradition coupled with the decades-old decree of Christos, there could be no coronation of him as king until the missing half of the Stefani diamond was returned to the Aristan crown. The Privy Council would meet, too, so its members could certify the succession declaration.

Andreas took on the coordination of those meetings. Sebastian immersed himself in policy conferences. It fell to Alex to finalize plans for the royal funeral. And yet, as he raced home just before dawn, his thoughts were not on any of those things. He was consumed by worries over something far more important.

Maria.

She hadn’t been waiting for him in the palace, not in the public rooms or in the royal apartments. His driver was waiting, in the courtyard, and in response to Alex’s questions the man could only shake his head and say that he had not seen Ms. Santos.

Alex checked his cell phone. Again. He’d already done that a dozen times but maybe, now, she’d left a message… She hadn’t. He’d phoned her endlessly and been connected to her voice mail, where he’d gone from leaving messages telling her he would break away as soon as he possibly could to increasingly terse ones asking her to contact him.

By the time he reached the house on the bay, he was frantic.

“Maria?” he shouted as he burst through the door. “Maria?”

No answer. He ran up the stairs to his bedroom, flung open the door. The room was dark. Empty.

“Maria,” he said again, and flew down the stairs, almost stumbling over Athenia who stood at the bottom wearing a housecoat, her hair in curlers.

“Your Highness. Our hearts are filled with grief. We are all so sorry for you—”

“Yes. Thank you. Where is Ms. Santos?”

Athenia bit her lip. Shook her head. Alex cursed in frustration—and then breathed a sigh of relief. He knew where Maria would be. In the guesthouse. He knew her habits. She was probably losing herself in work.

But the guesthouse, Maria’s workshop, stood as silent and empty as his bedroom. Something about that silence made his heart rise in his throat. He ran back to the main house, took the steps two at a time, flung open the bedroom door, this time switched on the light…

And knew, instantly, that Maria was gone.

The room felt cold. Not just empty but barren, as if the very life had been stripped from it. He went to the dressing room, stepped inside. Her suitcase was gone. The beautiful clothes he’d bought her hung from the racks like mournful reminders of the past.

“Maria,” Alex said, bewildered. What the hell had happened? Where was his Maria? He turned in a slow circle—and saw the envelope propped on the bed. “Alex,” it said, and that it didn’t say Alexandros was a statement in itself.

He picked it up. Opened it. Withdrew the note inside and read it. It was brief. She was, she said, terribly sorry for his loss. Though she’d only met his father a handful of times, she’d come to respect him. She’d wanted to tell him that herself but…

The “but” made Alex’s belly knot.

But, she wrote, she knew that the king’s death meant Alex would be immersed in the duties of a prince. She saw no reason to burden him with concern for her, especially since she was returning to New York anyway, now that her duties here were completed.

Her duties here.

He looked up, his face a mask of disbelief. Was that what it had been? Had sleeping with him been part of her duties? Was leaving him such a relief that she couldn’t have waited to say goodbye?

He read the note again. And again. Then he let out a roar of anguished rage from a place in his soul he’d never known existed, and tore the note into a dozen pieces.

A state funeral was not a simple thing.

Fortunately, plans for events like this had always existed. Except for the addition of a motorcade, those plans had not changed much since the time of the Crusades.

Aegeus lay in state for three days while his people, friends, relatives and foreign heads of state all paid their respects.

The Sheikh King Zakari Al’Farisi represented the island of Calista.

Zakari, a proud and ruthless man, made all the appropriate comments to the press; he offered Tia his polite condolences.

In private talks with the Karedes princes, however, Zakari’s words were probing as well as troubling.

He seemed to know that Aristo’s half of the Stefani diamond was missing.

Though Alex, Andreas and Sebastian had met with their council and agreed the mystery had to be kept secret until it was solved, that decision was—as Andreas wryly put it—pretty much the equivalent of shutting the stable door after the horse had been stolen.

Clearly, the news had reached Calista. And that was dangerous. Since Sebastian could not be crowned without the true diamond, Alex’s worry—that it might fall into the wrong hands and a Calistan prince could take the Aristan throne—seemed more and more plausible.

Added to concerns of state were those of family. Lissa and Kitty took their father’s death hard and clung to Andreas. Tia, shocked by her loss, claimed Alex for solace and support. Sebastian, now the Prince Regent, was, by custom, designated to lead them all through the necessary formalities.

Alex had no time to think, or told himself he had no time for it. But at night, when the hands of his watch seemed to slow to a crawl, he lay awake in his palace rooms, despising Maria, despising himself, telling himself what a fool he’d been to have imagined himself in love with her because he certainly had not loved her.

Of course, he hadn’t.

He counted down the days until the formalities of mourning would end. He had work to do, investors to meet with and reassure that nothing would change on Aristo. He was also fully involved in organizing the search for the missing diamond. Once the mourning period was behind him, he’d be far too busy to think about Maria Santos.

A lie.

Life slowly returned to normal. He was busy from early morning until late at night. And he thought about her all the time.

What he needed was closure, to tell her, to her face, that she had meant nothing more to him than he had obviously meant to her, but that would mean seeking her out and he wasn’t about to lower himself to that.

Strangely, no one in his family asked about Maria until one morning, when his mother phoned and invited him to breakfast. He was incredibly busy that day but he knew Tia’s grief was still new; nothing would have made him refuse her request.

They chatted briefly about nothing special—and then, without warning, Tia asked why Maria had gone.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Alex said, with a shrug. “She finished your necklace. Her work was over.”

“I’m not talking about her work,” Tia said. “I’m talking about the feelings you and she have for each other.”

“You’re wrong, Mother. We had no—”

“Alex. I’m your mother. I’m also a woman. I know love when I see it. Maria and you were in love. So, why did you let her go?”

Alex thought of half a dozen answers, all of which would have worked—and, instead, found himself speaking the truth.

“I didn’t,” he said in a low voice. “She left me. She enjoyed—she enjoyed our time together but—”

“Nonsense. She loves you. I saw it. Everyone saw it.”

“The hell she did!” Alex shot to his feet. “She left the night Father died. What was I supposed to do? Go after her? Walk out on my duties to try and convince her not to leave me?”

“Your duties,” Tia said softly. “Yes. Such things always get in the way.” She looked up at him. “Had you ever told her you loved her?”

His mouth thinned. “No.”

“Perhaps,” she said carefully, “perhaps you should have.”

Yes, Alex thought, he should have. He’d known the truth, in his heart. Why hadn’t he faced it sooner? Now it was too late.

“It’s never too late,” his mother said, and he realized he’d spoken aloud. “Alexandros. Love is a precious gift. Don’t throw it away.”

“How do you know that, Mother? I know you respected Father but I don’t believe you truly loved him.” Alex drew a ragged breath. “Hell,” he said softly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“You spoke the truth, my son. I didn’t truly love Aegeus, nor did he truly love me.” The queen’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “And that’s exactly the reason you must not let love slip through your fingers, Alexandros. Even a royal is entitled to happiness.”

The New York weather was harsh and uninviting.

Snow, slush, sleet and grey skies were daily companions. The sun seemed reluctant to put in even a cursory appearance. The weather was a reflection of Maria’s despair. She was lonely for Alexandros, for Aristo, for the happiness she had found with him there.

It was good that she was busy. Shops that had not wanted any part of her in the past clamored for her designs. L’Orangerie headed the list.

And, well, yes, there was one other good thing. A miraculous thing that had, at first, terrified her and now made her heart sing with joy.

A visit to her doctor had confirmed that she was pregnant. She was carrying Alex’s child. A little girl, Sela had said, smiling.

“Morning sickness at the beginning of your pregnancy. And look how high you’re carrying. Absolutely, a girl.”

Maria didn’t believe in the old superstitions but it didn’t matter. She would love her baby whatever the sex, and she would name it for Alexandros even though he was gone from her life.

He, and Aristo, were moving forward. Sebastian was the Prince Regent, though there was no mention of the missing diamond. She’d followed the funeral on TV. The royal family had looked saddened but composed. Alex had been his mother’s strong, handsome escort.

Just seeing him had made Maria’s throat constrict.

She would never stop loving him.

But she would have his daughter to love. It saddened her that her baby would never know her daddy but when Alexandra was old enough, she’d tell her what a fine man he was, what a loving man, what a good man—and never mind that he hadn’t called or written or tried to find out how she was, where she was…

“Maria? You okay?”

She looked up at Joaquin, working at the end of the bench. He and Sela had been wonderful. Though they knew about the baby, they hadn’t asked questions. A good thing, too, because if they had, she might have broken down and wept.

Tears filled her eyes and dripped onto the wax she was working.

“Maria?”

“Yes,” she said briskly, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes and flashing a smile, “I’m fine. I just—I think I got a bit of wax in my eye.”

“Want me to do that mold?”

“No. No, thanks. I’m almost finished. You know, it’s getting late. Why don’t we call it a day, hmm?”

“Well, if that’s okay… I promised Sela I’d pick up some stuff from the Chinese market on the way home.”

“Better get going, then, before the market closes.”

Joaquin nodded, cleaned up his end of the workbench, then put on his coat. He kissed her cheek and she managed to keep the tears from building again until the door closed behind him.

Why was she weeping? She’d wanted to end things cleanly. To keep Alex from contacting her. And she’d succeeded.

She just had to stop crying every five minutes. Sela said it was her hormones. It wasn’t. It was her inability to accept that she would never lie in her lover’s arms again, but she’d sooner have died than admit that to Sela or even to herself because it wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, she had a wonderful, fulfilling life now and—

Someone knocked at the loft door.

Maria grabbed the edge of her work-apron and wiped her eyes. Had Joaquin forgotten something? Why didn’t he use his key? Unless it was a reporter. They were still driving her crazy, hoping for an interview about life on Aristo and the death of its king.

The knock came again. She sighed, smoothed down her apron, fixed a polite smile to her lips and marched to the door.

“Yes?” No answer. Maria rolled her eyes. “Look, I’ve said I won’t do interviews so whoever you are—”

“Open the door, Maria.”

Her heart leaped. No. It couldn’t be.

“Maria. Did you hear me? Open this door.”

She shook her head, as if Alex could see her. “Go away,” she said in a shaky voice.

“I’m not going anywhere. Either you open this door or I’ll break it down.”

He would, too. He was angry—she could hear it in his voice, and she remembered what his anger had been like that night he’d first come here.

Bam! The door, heavy as a chunk of steel, shuddered under the blow.

“I don’t want to see you.” Maria licked her lips. “Joaquin is here. He says—”

“He says I’ve been a fool. And he’s right.”

Maria stared at the door. “You talked to Joaquin?”

“Just now. On the stairs.” Alex’s voice softened; she had to put her ear to the door to hear him. “He’s been a good friend to you. You’re lucky to have him to turn to. Maria, glyka mou, let me in.”

She swallowed hard. Then she undid the bolt and opened the door.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she started to say, but the sight of her Alexandros, so tall, so powerful, so much the lover she remembered, stole the words away. To her horror, her eyes flooded with the tears she’d fought only minutes before. She couldn’t let him see her cry, she couldn’t, she told herself, and she slapped her hands against the door and started to push it closed.

Alex was too quick. He jammed his shoulder between the door and its frame and pushed. Maria staggered back, the door swung open and he stepped into the loft.

He’d had plenty of time to consider how he would handle this meeting. The flight from Aristo had taken longer than usual. Bad weather had meant putting down at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris for a few hours. Just as well, he’d thought. The delay had given him extra time to decide what to say.

He’d come up with a list of questions. A little speech, though he tried not to call it that, in which he’d let Maria know that a woman did not simply walk out on him without explanation.

He would be cautious in expressing his feelings, never mind his mother’s insistence that Maria and he were in love. The sad truth, as Tia had admitted, was that his mother didn’t know a damned thing about love. If Maria loved him, why had she left him?

A woman who loved a man didn’t walk out on him without so much as a handshake.

He wasn’t so sure about loving her, either. Why would a man love a woman who’d abandoned him? Who was so independent? Why would he want her back in his life?

Logical, all of it. The trouble was, the closer he’d come to her street, the harder his heart had beaten. All his hours of planning and doubt had dissolved like cotton candy in the rain. And when he’d bumped into a man on the stairs, he’d known instinctively it was Joaquin—and known, just as instinctively, that the guy knew who he was, too, and wanted nothing more than to flatten him.

He could hardly blame him.

Hell, it was what he’d have done if the situation were reversed.

The men had taken a long look at each other.

“Are you the prince?” Joaquin had finally growled. At Alex’s nod, the other man’s mouth had thinned. “She loves you, you jerk. And you don’t deserve her.”

Alex had grinned. Then he’d put his hand out.

“You’re right,” he’d said, and after a few seconds Joaquin had smiled. They’d shaken hands. Then Joaquin had stepped aside and Alex had continued up the stairs to Maria’s door when terror had stopped him cold. Certain of everything, sure of nothing, he had resorted to anger…

And then he’d come to his senses.

He would do whatever it took to win his Maria’s heart… and, looking into her eyes, he knew, with a rush of fierce joy, that her heart had always been his for the taking.

Maria loved him. He loved her. And he’d be damned if he’d lose her again.

So, in the end, there were no questions, no speeches, no doubts. There was only a man, baring his soul by stepping forward and opening his arms to a woman. And—thank you, God—there was the woman, his Maria, giving a little cry and throwing herself into his embrace.

He kissed her. Kissed her for a very long time. Her mouth. Her eyes. Her hair.

“Why did you leave me?” he said.

“Because I have no place in your life,” she said, returning each kiss, each caress, each sigh.

“I love you. You are my life.”

Her heart soared, but she shook her head. “I can’t be.”

“Do you love me?”

How could she lie to him? How could she deny what burned in her heart?

“Yes,” she said softly, “I love you. I adore you, Alexandros. But I can’t be part of your life. I—I’m not cut out to be a mistress.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Alex said, in that imperious way that she’d learned to love. “You’re going to marry me and be my wife.”

His words were more precious than any of the diamonds in the Aristan crown. She knew she would cherish them forever, even if what he’d just told her could never happen.

“I can’t marry you,” she whispered.

“Because?”

“Because you’re a prince. You have obligations. Duties.”

“I have nothing, unless I have you, glyka mou. You are my heart. My joy. My love.”

Oh, how easy it would be to give in. To say, ‘Yes, I’ll marry you…’ But she couldn’t. She loved her Alexandros too much to ruin his life.

“Alexandros, listen to me. Your father’s words to me were true.”

Alex’s eyes darkened. “What are you talking about?”

“The night he died—Aegeus said—he said I was wrong for you. That if I loved you, I had to leave you. He said—”

“Was that why he wanted to see you?” Alex’s tone was harsh. “To tell you to go away?”

“No. Yes. It was more than that. He said he wanted the best for you.”

“You are the best for me, glyka mou.”

“Also—also, I think he knew something about the diamond. I think—I think he had something to do with switching the fake for the real one.”

“I don’t care about that diamond right now,” Alex said fiercely. “All that matters is us. What we feel for each other, the life we’ll create together… What?”

Maria was laughing. Or maybe she was crying. He couldn’t tell; he only knew that something in what he’d just said had affected her.

And then, he knew.

Slowly, he clasped her shoulders. Held her just far enough away so he could look at her from head to toe. She looked different. Her face was fuller. So were her breasts. And, under her denim work-apron, he could see the delicate but clear convexity of her belly.

It all came together. Her nausea. Her exhaustion. And now, these physical changes that made her even more beautiful.

“Maria.” He could feel the smile starting to stretch across his lips. “Maria, my heart, my soul, are you pregnant?”

She stared at him. She could lie. She could say, no, of course not…

“Yes,” she said softly.

Alex grinned. Then he gathered her in his arms and rained kisses on her face.

“Pregnant,” he said, as if he were the first man in the world ever to hear such news. “My God, sweetheart, we’re pregnant!” He held her inches from him, his eyes searching hers. “Say the words, Maria. Tell me that you love me as I love you, and that you will do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

Maria thought of how far they had come, of a time her Alexandros would have demanded to know if he was really the father of the baby in her womb. She thought of how he had crossed the ocean to claim her. She thought of King Aegeus’s warning, and how cold and empty the life he’d foreseen for his son now seemed.

“Alexandros,” she said, because if life wasn’t worth risks, what was the point? “Alexandros. I love you. And it is you who do me honor, my beloved, by asking me to marry you.”

Alex gave her a solemn look. “Is that,” he said carefully, “a yes?”

Maria laughed, though she was crying again, this time tears of joy that streamed down her face.

“Yes,” she said, “yes, yes, yes!”

Her Alexandros kissed her. Then he kicked the door shut, swept her into his arms, and carried her to the bed.

We chatted to Sandra Marton about the world of THE ROYAL HOUSE OF KAREDES. Here are her insights!

Would you prefer to live on Aristo or Calista? What appeals to you most about either island?

The two islands are both fascinating, but I would much prefer to live on Aristo. I love the contrast between the sophistication of Ellos and the wildly beautiful cliffs that wind above the Bay of Appollonia, the gentle climate, the white sand beaches kissed by the sea. My husband and I took a wonderful trip to Greece a few months ago; all the time we were on the island of Santorini, I kept thinking how easily beautiful Santorini could be Aristo.

What did you enjoy about writing about THE ROYAL HOUSE OF KAREDES?

I was very fortunate to write the launch book for the series. That gave me the chance to give substance to Aristo and to the Karedes family. Breathing life into Aegeus and Tia, the princes and princesses was great fun. I especially loved creating my hero, Alexandros. I’ve always thought the lives of royals must be hard, all that balancing of personal needs with public demands, and here I had the chance to show some of the inner conflicts that are part of a royal’s existence. I loved creating Maria, too. Because I was born and raised in New York, I was able to give her a background with at least some similarities to mine. Like Maria, I attended its schools. I went to university there. My first job was in the part of Manhattan where I put Maria’s loft and, believe me, her feelings on riding a crowded subway car were a mirror of my own.

How did you find writing as part of a continuity?

It was great fun but also a challenge. I had to be sure to introduce my secondary characters in ways that wouldn’t be a problem for the other authors, and to describe places (the palace, for example) so that the other authors could “see” it as clearly as I did. I’ve always loved writing my own miniseries because I love the scope and depth a writer gets from dealing with ongoing characters and intertwining plots. Writing BILLIONAIRE PRINCE, PREGNANT MISTRESS gave me that same feeling.

When you are writing, what is your typical day?

Hmm. Let’s see. The maid draws my bath, brings me my morning coffee… Oh, if only! Seriously, my working day isn’t a glamorous one. I get up anywhere from six to seven-thirty, shower, put on what I think of as my summer outfit (shorts, T-shirt, thong sandals) or my winter garb (jeans, T-shirt, sneakers), head down to the kitchen where my husband, bless him, is generally already brewing the coffee. Breakfast is toast and coffee with the morning news playing in the background. Then I give my husband a kiss, head for my office, turn on my computer, play a few rounds of Spider Solitaire—it’s addictive—and settle in to work. I take a break somewhere between noon and one o’clock. My husband’s office is upstairs and he comes down and joins me for lunch. Then it’s back to work until he calls me on the intercom and reminds me—by then, I’m lost in what I’m writing—that it’s time for a glass of wine. Depending on my mood, I’ll either put together an easy meal—not much cooking goes on when I’m working!—or he’ll grill something on the deck, or we’ll go out somewhere local for supper. After that, I generally curl up beside him on the sofa to read, catch the eleven o’clock news, and then stagger off to bed.

Where do you get your inspiration for the characters that you write?

I’m an inveterate people-watcher. Plop me down in a café in New York or San Francisco, Paris or Athens, and I’m content. I’m very aware of people’s body language and facial expressions. Those things communicate a lot to me. Many of my characters have come to life through my observations of complete strangers who have no idea I’m taking mental notes! Friends sometimes think I’ve based my characters on them. I never do. If I know someone well, I can’t see them as anything but themselves, if that makes sense.

What did you like most about your hero and heroine in this continuity?

I love creating Presents heroes, men who are strong and loving, protective and powerful, and maybe just a little bit arrogant. Alexandros is all those things. He’s also a man accustomed to not showing his feelings. I find that, always, a special challenge for a heroine. And my Maria is, I think, the perfect woman for Alexandros. She’s independent, spirited and tough in the best possible meaning of the word. She, too, has learned to keep her emotions in check. That’s why the passion they discover in each other’s arms is so exciting. It changes them, forces them to examine their own true needs, their own true desires. Fate has created Alex and Maria for each other. For me, that fierce sense of destiny is what Presents, passion and enduring love are all about.

What would be the best—and worst—thing about being part of a royal dynasty?

The best would probably be the good one can do as a royal. The worst would surely be the public exposure demanded of royals. I tried to convey some of that in Alexandros’s story.

Are diamonds really a girl’s best friend?

It depends on the girl. A serious answer? No, absolutely not. When you get down to basics, what women—all women—want is happiness. And happiness comes from much more precious things than diamonds. Good friends. Good health. A loving family… Above all, the love of one special man. Those are the qualities that make a woman’s life full and rich. The glow of diamonds is lovely but the glow in your lover’s eyes when he sees you means far, far more.