Читать книгу The Prince's Bride - Lisa Laurel Kaye - Страница 9

Erik Anders turned his back on the hospital bed to look out the window, not that he noticed the view of Boston spread out before him. He was taking a moment to remind himself that the man lying in the bed behind him was King Ivar, ruler of Isle Anders, a man to whom deference was due even when he wasn’t lying in recovery from heart surgery.

He had to remind himself because, at that moment, His Majesty the king was acting like your basic, garden variety, stubbornly infuriating father. His father.

“I await your answer,” came the king’s commanding voice from behind him.

Prince Erik turned back and took his seat at his father’s bedside. On the other side of the bed sat his younger brother, Whit, who looked both amused and relieved that Erik had drawn their father’s fire this time.

“Your Majesty, perhaps this is not the best time to discuss this.” Erik’s voice kept its customary calm. The king’s doctor had made it clear to him and his brother that although their father was making progress in his recovery, they had to make every effort to keep him from feeling stress of any kind.

The king, who did not take to coddling, gave Erik a smoldering look. “You, my elder son, are the crown prince of Isle Anders. Destiny has chosen you to succeed me to the throne,” he said. “I place great trust in you, and never have you let me down. Never have you shirked a duty. Until now.”

Erik counted to ten in his native language and then in English before answering. “With all due respect, sire, I am not shirking this duty, either. I am well aware that the laws of tradition dictate that the crown prince of Isle Anders must take a bride before being crowned king, and I stand ready to uphold that requirement.”

“You are thirty years old. Just when do you plan to fulfill your duty?” the king demanded.

“Before my coronation, which I hope will not take place for a good many years.”

“I am getting older,” the king warned. “I just had major surgery.”

“From which your doctor expects you will make a fine recovery,” Erik stated calmly. “All you need to do is rest.”

“I can’t rest easy until I know the succession is secure.”

“It will be.” Erik reminded himself that his father was only thinking about the country they both loved. Isle Anders wasn’t big, but it was beautiful, a jewel of an island in the deep blue waters of the North Atlantic, not far from Iceland. During the short summer it glowed with the dark green fire of an emerald; in winter it sparkled with the icy brilliance of a diamond. It was icier than Greenland, greener than Iceland, and its people were as gutsy and strong as the Vikings who had first populated it. The Anders family, which had acquired its wealth independent of its position, had ruled the island with pride for countless years with the approval of the citizens they served. The way Erik looked at it, he had been born into the privilege of doing a job he loved, and he would do nothing to jeopardize that. Like his father, Erik Anders took his duty to Isle Anders very seriously.

“Without a marriage, there can be no heir to the throne,” the king pointed out.

“I assure you, sire—” Erik began.

“I am not assured!” Fire flashed from behind the king’s blue eyes. “I know that there is no shortage of admiring women around you, but I am also well aware that you don’t give any of them the slightest chance to win your affection. And as for him—” The king threw a glance of reproof at Whit, who had such a reputation as a ladies’ man that the press had dubbed him the Prince of Hearts. “Where does this leave me? With one son who refuses to fall in love and another who falls in love every other week!” he said, his voice echoing off the walls of the room.

Then, as quickly as it had arisen, the fire in the king’s eyes died. He sank back heavily against his pillows, his face ashen, just as his doctor entered the room.

“You two, out of here!” the doctor ordered sharply. Both princes jumped to the command. All three men knew that in the matter of the king’s health, the doctor’s status as a medical man outranked the princes’ royalty.

Out in the hallway Erik and his brother exchanged a worried look.

“Do you think he’s all right?” Whit finally asked.

Erik shrugged and propped a shoulder against the wall.

Whit dragged his fingers through his hair. “I hate to see him like this.”

Erik knew what he meant. The golden strands of the king’s thick hair and beard were well-laced with silver, and his recent illness and surgery had left him looking careworn and haggard. And the way he talked… For the first time, Erik feared his indomitable father might be giving up hope. The thought gave him a bone-deep chill.

He shook it off, refusing to think about the possibility of King Ivar’s not making it. Instead of dwelling on something he had no power over, he turned his thoughts to something he did: his father’s preoccupation with the idea of securing the succession. Erik had long known that it was his duty to his country to marry before his coronation. But maybe it was his duty to his father to do it sooner.

He had someone in mind, of course; someone he had known for a long time. She was exactly the kind of woman he had always expected to take as a wife: a woman who suited him perfectly, who surely shared his feeling that she was destined to be his bride.

Erik had waited for a number of reasons, but now he knew that he had put off the inevitable long enough. The time was finally right. Tonight’s ball would be the perfect forum for him to introduce his future bride to the world. The perfect setting for their rendezvous with destiny.

Julie Britton set down the receiver but hung on to the phone, as if that might stop the strange soaring feeling that the unexpected news had given her.

Of course she had known Prince Erik would be back in the States, now that his father was ill. But she never expected that he would make an appearance at the ball here in Anders Point tonight.

Not that it mattered to her, Julie told herself firmly. She was in charge of planning the charity ball for King Ivar. She had overseen everything, right down to the last detail. It couldn’t possibly matter to her which of the king’s sons was to perform the duties of host.

In the past it had always been Prince Whit who oversaw these glamorous high-publicity events, while Erik tended to shy away from the spotlight. She wondered now what could possibly be forcing the mysterious Prince Erik away from desk duty and out into the public.

Under her hand the phone rang again. Julie jumped, then answered.

“Hello?”

“Julie! What are you still doing there at the castle?”

It was her friend, Annah. “Not much,” Julie said dryly. “Just planning a royal ball.”

“Well, it’s ten hours to midnight, Cinderella. Are you going to come down here and pick out a gown, or were you planning on wearing your rags to the ball?”

“Ten hours to—omigosh! It’s two o’clock already? I’ll be right there, Annah. Bye!”

After a quick check with the head chef on the food preparation for the evening, Julie rushed from the castle, carefully securing the door behind her. Not that she was worried about a break-in. The tiny coastal town of Anders Point, Maine, was hardly a hotbed of criminal activity. But she took great pride in her job as castle caretaker, treating the stately mansion as if it were her home. Of course it wasn’t her castle; it belonged to King Ivar.

But it felt like it was hers, because Julie was the only one who had lived there for the past year, except for occasional visits by the king. He had asked her to take over as caretaker after the death of her grandfather, who had long held the position. The decision was a no-brainer for Julie, who had lived in New York City since the age of three, but had spent most summers at Anders Point with her grandfather. The king’s offer had given her the ideal setup. Her duties had allowed her to continue her career as a reading specialist—she had gotten a part-time position in the town school, which had let out the week before for summer vacation—and she had a place to live.

Not just any place. She paused to look up at the magnificent facade, pushing away wisps of hair that the breeze from the ocean had freed from her braid. The castle, perched on a rocky bluff at the tip of Anders Point, was magical. It was built more for function than form, but it had a raw, elemental beauty set off by the backdrop of the restless ocean. Inside, its stone walls and dark corridors oozed history and romance.

No wonder she had once fallen in love there.

But that incredible night seemed like a dream now. She hadn’t seen Erik since their moonlit dance, nine years ago. But even now, Julie still cringed at the memory. She had crashed, all right, but in time she’d picked herself up and gone on with her life.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, she walked slowly around the castle, smiling wistfully at her long-ago hopes for what might have been with Erik. It hadn’t worked out, but she didn’t regret her decision to take a chance. There had been no happy ending for her, but she still believed in love.

The castle brought out her romantic nature. Especially since it was here that King Ivar himself had fallen in love, when he was still a prince. It was his family’s get-away home, and he had been staying in it while on official business in America, when a girl from Anders Point had captured his heart. She had been similarly smitten, and their storybook romance and royal wedding had thrilled the world, and Julie, too. She herself hadn’t been born when it happened, of course, but she had begged her mother time and again to tell the story of how the girl her mother had once jumped rope with had grown up to become a princess; and then a queen when Ivar took the throne.

In the queen’s memory, the king held a huge ball every few years at the Anders Point castle where they had met, to raise money for her favorite charity. The sweetness of that gesture always touched Julie, who saw it as undeniable proof that even a man as powerful and demanding as King Ivar could be as romantic as she was on the inside—unlike his son. Naturally, the king himself had always hosted the ball. And although he wouldn’t be there this time, he had insisted that the ball go on as scheduled.

Tonight. It was hard to believe. It seemed like only a million details ago that the king had asked her to be in charge of coordinating the preparations for the ball. Julie, who had never so much as planned a wedding, had been flattered by the king’s trust in her, and was determined to prove that it had not been misplaced.

Especially now, with him in the hospital. She had been fond of the king ever since she was a little girl. During the past year her regard had grown. Julie figured she would do just about anything to ease the king’s mind and speed his recovery.

With that thought, she hurried to her car and drove down the hill on the castle road. Julie made herself take deep breaths of the breeze coming in off the ocean. To her knowledge, no one had ever died of excitement, but she didn’t want to be the first, not today of all days. Not when she finally had a chance to get a glimpse of Prince. Erik again.

“Julie! Julie!” Six-year-old Lexi Davis sprinted out from the back room of the two-story house Annah lived and worked in. The little girl’s hands clamped an aluminum foil tiara, which had been knocked askew by her run, onto the top of her head.

“Princess Lexi! How was your morning?” Julie asked as she caught her up in a hug. Lexi’s mother, Julie’s childhood friend Drew, was sheriff of Anders Point. To the dismay of her practical mother, Lexi’s princess phase had far outlived that of most other little girls. Lexi didn’t just play princess; she lived it. Julie, who considered such imagination a priceless gift, happily indulged her.

“It was—” Lexi paused, frowning, no doubt thinking of a word with just the right amount of royal condescension. “Quite satisfactory,” she finished with a smile.

“I’m pleased to hear it, Your Highness.”

“Because this is the best place to play dress up,” Lexi added breathlessly. “I love when Annah watches me.

“Where’s your mommy?”

“Out on a call.”

That could mean anything, Julie knew. As the town’s only elected official, Drew was a combination sheriff, justice of the peace, animal control officer and settler of trivial disputes between neighbors.

Lexi was still chattering as they walked past Annah’s coffee counter and into her secondhand shop in back. “Can you make up another fairy tale with me, Julie? Like the one when the princess saved the kingdom from the dragon?”

“I don’t have time, honey. Tonight’s the ball.”

Lexi sighed. “You get to live in the castle, and you get to go to the ball. You’re the luckiest person in the world.”

Julie smiled at her. “I think I am,” she agreed.

They walked into a tiny room in back, which Annah used as her office. Annah, who was just hanging up the phone, smiled at Julie.

“You look like you just swallowed fireworks,” she said.

Julie shrugged happily, eyes sparkling. “I am going to a royal ball tonight.”

“Yes, I know,” Annah teased. “Maybe you’ll be swept off your feet by a movie star or a diplomat or a multibillionaire—”

“Or a prince,” Lexi suggested.

“In my dreams,” Julie said with a laugh. At least, in her dreams of long ago.

“Are you wearing anything in those dreams?” Annah asked dryly. “I don’t know how you could leave your dress for the last minute like this, but better late than never.”

“I have great faith in you. I knew you would find me something,” Julie said.

“Two somethings.” With a smile, Annah turned to a closet in the corner of the office and pulled out a short, strapless dress of brilliant blue. “Ta-da. What do you think?”

Julie looked at it. “Ah,” she said, noncommittally. “And the other something?”

Annah sighed, and rummaged another dress out of the closet. “This,” she said, holding up a black gown with sheer sleeves and a floor-length hem.

Julie looked at them both. “What do you think?”

“No contest. The blue,” Annah said. “It’s made for you, Julie. You’re the only woman I know who could do it justice.”

Julie looked at the dress doubtfully. “It is gorgeous, Annah. But I’ve heard you can never go wrong with basic black.”

“Black is all wrong for your coloring. No one has bluer eyes than you do, Julie, and this dress will make them shine more than the most exquisite jewels in that ballroom.”

Uh-oh. Annah was starting to wax poetic about the darn dress, which, Julie noticed, barely covered the hanger. “It doesn’t look my size,” she pointed out diplomatically.

Annah thrust the dress into her hands. “Trust me.”

Julie sighed. Annah knew her way around clothes. She had an instinct for knowing what looked good on all of her customers, which was why they kept coming back. And she herself always looked terrific. Annah had class.

She was smiling brightly at Julie. “Try it on,” she urged.

Minutes later, Julie emerged from the dressing room and looked at Annah, waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, Julie,” Annah said, her dark eyes wide. “Even I didn’t expect it was going to look this good.”

Lexi stared at Julie, openmouthed, before bestowing on her the highest compliment in her six-year-old world. “You look like a real princess,” she said.

“Now let’s try something out on your hair,” Annah said, starting in with a brush.

While she was working, the bell on the front door jangled. Lexi flew out to see who had come into the store. “Mommy!” Julie heard her say. “Come see Princess Julie!"

“Drew, stay out there until I’m finished,” Annah called. “I want you to get the full effect.”

“She won’t let me look, either,” complained Julie. She was glad Drew had arrived in time to give her opinion. They had been friends forever, playing together all those summers she had visited her grandfather. They’d had the run of the castle grounds, a kid’s paradise, and had been joined by Prince Whit whenever he and the king stayed at the castle. Whit was Julie’s age, Drew just a year younger, and in those days the three had been as inseparable as the peanut butter and marshmallow goop sandwiches that had been their favorite lunch. But Julie hadn’t seen Whit since they were both sixteen, while she’d seen Drew every summer but one.

“How is everything going for the ball, Julie?” Drew asked her.

“So far, so good, keep your fingers crossed.”

More quietly, Drew said, “When does Whit arrive?”

“Not Whit. Erik.” As she said his name, Julie felt her stomach give a funny lurch to zero gravity.

“Prince Erik?” Drew sounded surprised. “I thought Whit was going to take the king’s place as host.”

“He was supposed to, but I just got a call from one of King Ivar’s men. It’ll be Erik.” It still seemed strange to think that Erik would be at the ball tonight. After all those years, she would see him again. She couldn’t help wondering what would happen. Maybe they would dance, and maybe the magic she remembered would be recaptured, and this time, maybe… Amazed at the rapidity of her chain of thought, Julie was forced to smile at her own expense. More likely he’d pat her on the head and send her away again.

“I’m surprised that Whit would pass up the chance to host a ball,” Drew said. “Talk about being in his element. Glitz, glamour, publicity, beautiful wom-en…”

“I wonder why Prince Erik hasn’t married yet,” Annah mused. “Do you think he’s looking for a bride, Julie?”

The king had made no secret to Julie of his great desire to have his older son marry, but Julie had no idea what Erik’s opinion on the matter was. “If he is, he should hire you as a consultant, Annah,” she told her friend warmly. Annah had an uncanny talent for spotting true love when she saw it. “Would you like me to suggest it to him tonight?”

Annah laughed. “Why don’t you go for him yourself, and avoid the middleman?”

“If the past is any indication, she doesn’t need any encouragement, Annah,” Drew said from the other room.

Julie ignored the hot blush that Drew’s teasing comment had called up and spoke to Annah. “Childhood friends remember the most inconvenient things.” Like an embarrassing crush on a friend’s older brother.

Annah put the brush down. “This sounds interesting,” she said. “Do tell.”

Julie gave a sheepish grin. “I kind of fell for Erik,” she explained.

“When?” asked Annah.

“Ages ago,” Julie said, secure in the knowledge that now she was neither so young nor so naive. At sixteen, she had thought she’d found the love of her life, but he had obviously not felt the same inexorable pull of destiny that she had. At twenty-five she hardly spent her days pining over him.

Still, to be honest, she had to admit that she seemed unable to erase him from her mind completely. She had always wondered what would happen if she got a grown-up chance to see whether her young intuition had been on target. The king’s change of plans had given her an excellent opportunity to satisfy her curiosity. Naturally she had no real expectations; but Julie was an incurable optimist, and optimism sometimes has very little to do with what is realistic. Somewhere inside her lived the battered, but still breathing, hope that someday, somehow, she might have another chance to try to win Erik’s heart. And she knew that seeing him tonight at the ball would either resuscitate that hope or give it the blow that would lay it to rest for good.

Uncannily Drew read her thoughts. “You aren’t really interested in him, are you, Julie?” She sounded concerned.

Julie didn’t answer.

“Everyone has things that they keep from even their best friends,” observed Annah as she put the finishing touches on Julie’s hair.

It was true, Julie knew. Annah herself avoided any reminders of the painful circumstances surrounding her divorce. And Drew never talked about Lexi’s father; had in fact kept his identity a secret, even from them. Close as the three were, they respected each other’s privacy.

“You can come in now, Drew,” Annah said at last.

Drew stopped in the doorway and stood there, star-ing, while Julie turned around in the middle of the room. Drew was the most down-to-earth person she knew. If Julie looked like a hooker on a holiday, Drew would have no qualms about telling her so.

“Well, Drew?” Julie said.

“You’re absolutely stunning, kid. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“That makes two of us,” Julie said, staring at her reflection in the floor-length mirror Annah steered her over to. She hardly recognized herself, with her hair up like this. Annah had been right about what the color of the dress would do for her eyes, too. As for the dress itself, it was a bit of shapely, shimmering magic, hugging curves that Julie hadn’t realized she had. She swallowed. “But isn’t it a little on the—”

“Sexy side?” Drew supplied.

“Omigosh. Too sexy?”

“Not too sexy,” Annah assured her quickly. “Classy sexy. Understated sexy.”

Drew rolled her eyes. “Understated? When she walks through that ballroom, testosterone levels will hit the danger zone.”

Julie knew that Drew, who never exaggerated, must be doing it now—even though it was a heady thought.

“Every woman needs a night like that in her life,” Annah said.

“I’m not really a guest at the ball,” Julie reminded them and herself. “I’m the hired help. Maybe I’d better try on the black one.”

She did, and wondered who ever had come up with the idea that black was sexy and sophisticated. On her, basic black was basic boring. Worse. She looked like a cadaver.

Lexi was the first to speak. “Before you looked like a princess,” she said, looking up at Julie. “Now you look like a lady-in-waiting.”

“What do you two think?” Julie asked her friends.

“The blue.” Annah gave her vote firmly.

“The blue,” Drew agreed.

Julie looked in the mirror and decided that she was tired of being a lady-in-waiting. “All right, all right,” she said laughingly. “I’ll be a princess.”

Julie walked into the castle kitchen and helped herself to a sample from a tray of hors d’oeuvres on the counter.

“Mmm,” she said, smiling up into the frown of the head chef. “Is the rest of the food this good, Gustave?”

“How would I know?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. “I have spent the afternoon doing your job, mademoiselle.”

“Oh, then you took care of things while I was gone?”

“Of course. And right now half of the tradesmen in America are in the ballroom awaiting your instructions.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Julie said, giving him an impetuous kiss on the cheek.

The phone rang. “And that’s another thing,” he pointed out. "Mademoiselle, surely even in this godforsaken corner of America you have heard of answering machines.”

“I didn’t think of turning it on, since you were here,” Julie said, adding impishly, “Did the phone ring while I was gone?”

“Incessantly,” he said with a sniff. “I managed to ignore it, until the last time.”

“Who was it?”

“His Highness, the crown prince.”

Julie spun around. Erik called? “What did he say?”

Gustave was busy tasting a sauce that an underling held out to him on a spoon. He gave a few curt instructions, while Julie thought she would burst out of her skin, waiting.

“He said he needed to speak with you privately on an urgent matter and would call back.” He nodded toward the ringing phone. “That would be he, I suppose.”

Julie ran into the library and grabbed the phone. It was indeed Erik.

“Hello, Julie,” he said, his deep voice setting something inside her vibrating.

Her answer was barely a whisper. “Prince Erik.”

He seemed to hesitate before speaking again, and when he did, there was a new warmth in his voice. “It’s…been a while.”

“Yes. It has.” Her stomach gave another one of those weightless lurches, as if she had swallowed a helium balloon. Ignoring it, she warned herself against reading any sentimentality into his end of the conversation. He was no doubt calling on business, now that he was hosting the ball. In a voice that she optimistically told herself sounded perfectly calm, she added, “If you’re calling about tonight, the arrangements are nearly all in place.”

“I imagine so. This is probably not the best time to spring a surprise on you.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes,” he said. “And my plans depend on you, Julie.”

Something in his voice told her that he was talking about a matter of far more consequence than rearranging the seating at the ball, but she refused to allow herself to indulge in any wild speculations. “Your father places great trust in me,” she assured him professionally.

“He has made no secret of that fact.”

His response warmed her. “I understand you saw the king this morning,” she said. “How is he?”

“Not good,” he said soberly.

Julie couldn’t disguise the worry in her voice. “Your Highness, what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing that I can’t rectify,” he said. “Medically, the king’s progress has been fair, but it is being impeded by his preoccupation with the succession. Given how closely you work with him, I assume he has shared with you his great desire that I choose a bride.”

“He has mentioned his—ah, concern,” Julie admitted.

Erik seemed amused. “His Majesty will have no reason to question my devotion to duty, after tonight. Everything has been arranged, except for the announcement itself.”

Julie frowned, puzzled. “I—I beg your pardon?"

“My father’s worries will end at midnight,” Erik explained. “When I announce my engagement.”