Читать книгу The Irresistible Prince - Lisa Laurel Kaye - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Prince Lucas had started pacing again by the time the huge grandfather clock in the castle entry hall chimed quarter to eight. The relief he had felt when Annah Lane had told him that she would help him had faded in the few hours since he had left her house and come here to the castle at the tip of the Point. While he had slept off the worst of his jet lag, showered and dressed for dinner, a renewed sense of urgency had crept back in.

He had wanted to talk strategy immediately, but she had suggested that they do it over dinner. Even that slight delay in getting the process rolling was frustrating for him, but then, he had been hashing all this over for ten months. It made sense to give her a few hours to do the same.

The sound of his echoing footsteps received the sudden punctuation of a ring at the front doorbell. He swung open the heavy front door. “Good evening, Miss Lane,” he greeted her.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” she answered. She was carrying a large, two-handled pot, which she set down on an antique table in the entry hall.

“What’s that?” he asked, looking puzzled.

“Dinner,” she said succinctly. She disappeared out the door again, heading for the car that was parked in the front drive, and fished a couple of large paper bags out of the trunk.

“Did you make dinner?” he asked when she returned.

“Of course,” she said, sounding surprised at his surprise. “I told you I would.”

He had assumed that her offer to “take care of dinner” meant that she was going to order the meal from a restaurant and arrange for its delivery. “You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” she said, smiling as if that were true while she breezed past him. “Grab that pot for me, would you?” she called over her shoulder.

What could he do? He picked up the pot and carried it obediently into the kitchen.

“Just set it on one of the back burners,” she said as she put the bags on the counter. If her voice sounded breathy, she hoped he would think it was from lugging dinner up the stone steps out front. The truth was that she had once more been thrown off balance simply by being near him, although she wasn’t sure why. A woman who was nearly thirty ought to be able to be in the presence of a handsome prince without having her backbone begin to melt. That she had never felt this way around Prince Erik or Prince Whit must be because they were “hometown” princes. Their mother had been from Anders Point, and the two of them were no strangers to the town when they stayed here in their family’s castle.

If she felt differently around Prince Lucas, she would just have to get over it. She reminded herself of the deep bond she had felt between them before he had left her coffee shop. Making his dream come true was what mattered. And if she was going to help him, she couldn’t be walking on eggshells around him just because he was royalty. Not if her plan was going to work.

She was starting to struggle out of her jacket when his voice came from close behind her, soft and low. “Allow me.”

She kept her back to him while he helped her off with her jacket, chiding herself for her weak-kneed reaction to his performing this small courtesy for her. While he left the room with it, she busied herself getting dinner underway. “I have a few things to finish up,” she told him when he returned.

He had that slight frown that she was becoming familiar with. “What with preparing this meal, Miss Lane, have you had any time to think about my situation?”

He was direct, she had to give him that. She looked up from the pot she was stirring. “I do my best thinking when I’m cooking,” she told him with a smile.

“Then by all means, cook,” he said briskly. He stood next to her at the counter, which had the effect of totally disrupting her thinking. It was just the feel of his nearness, because she had to look out of the corner of her eye to see him—not that she was sure that was a great idea, either. He had been born a prince...did he have to be so darned attractive, too? The man was a walking woman-magnet even without a wedding deadline, and Annah could well imagine the world’s social climbers climbing all over each other to get at him. There weren’t women like that here in Anders Point, but even here they would act differently around him, less comfortably, knowing he was a prince. That was just human nature. Annah knew her plan was right on target. But she wasn’t about to just blurt it out. She had a feeling it would be better to get him used to the idea gradually.

“Nice castle, isn’t it?” she asked conversationally.

“Yes,” he answered. “It is not large, but it is beautifully sited up here on this bluff.”

“As a place used only for their stays in America, I suppose the Anders family didn’t need it to be large. And it will be plenty big enough for Whit and Drew to live in after they return from their honeymoon. Lexi is thrilled about moving in here.”

He seemed to smile slightly at the mention of his friend’s six-year-old daughter, but merely said, “I was glad of Whit’s offer to let me stay here while I am in town.”

That was the opening Annah was looking for. He wouldn’t be staying in the castle long, if she had her way. “By the way, no one else knows you’re here, do they?”

He seemed a bit surprised by her change of subject, but answered her question. “Besides the Anders family? No one except you...and my staff, of course.”

“But no one here in town,” she clarified. “I mean, it was dark when you left my place, and you drove away in a nondescript sedan.”

He nodded. His chauffeur, who was also his bodyguard, insisted on it, for security reasons. He only used a limo for public occasions.

“After that, did you come right here to the castle?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone walk by while you were on my porch?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “I didn’t notice anyone.”

“And I know the girls I was waiting on didn’t really get a good look at you,” she said positively. “So you see, I am the only one in town who knows that you—that Prince Lucas of the Constellation Isles is here.”

His frown deepened. “You think that’s important?”

“Of course,” she said. As an afterthought she added, “Don’t you?”

He didn’t. Wasn’t she aware that once other people saw him, they would recognize him? He expected that. It went with the territory.

Her question dangled intriguingly. He didn’t answer, and she didn’t elaborate, but turned her attention to the food. “The salad is all ready now, so I’ll just slice up the bread.”

Lucas stood aside, watching her. “When I asked you to dinner, I had no intention of your cooking and serving it,” he said.

“I enjoy cooking,” she said, putting the bread into a basket that she had pulled out of one of the upper cabinets. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking of expanding my coffee shop hours and serving lunch, also. It’s nice having a guinea pig to try out my new recipes.”

No one had ever had the cheek to refer to him as a guinea pig before, and oddly enough, Lucas found he didn’t mind. But it still felt awkward, having his guest prepare her own dinner. Standing out of her way as she bustled about, he observed, “You seem to be familiar with this kitchen.”

“Julie lived here as the caretaker for a year before she married Prince Erik,” she said, pulling a bunch of flowers out of one of the bags. “She and I are friends.”

Which apparently gave them intimate knowledge of each other’s kitchens. He was not wise in the ways of feminine friendships, but found himself admiring the feminine grace of her movements as she worked. Bending under one counter she picked out some sort of glass container and, with a few deft moves, began arranging the flowers in it. She placed the bloom-filled bowl in the center of the big wooden trestle table that stood in front of the fireplace. Lucas watched as the drawers and cabinets that were a dark mystery to him yielded placemats, utensils, crockery and glasses at her touch. She began setting them out on the table. It looked as if she meant for the two of them to eat dinner right there.

He cleared his throat. “It was my intention that we eat in the dining room, Miss Lane.”

“We don’t have to be so formal. Please, call me Annah.”

“And expect to dine with you here in the kitchen?” He hadn’t forgotten that she was his guest, despite the fact that she had come in and taken charge of the meal.

But that seemed to be her preference. “It’s cozier in here,” she said reasonably, stirring the pot on the stove again.

“Would be, if someone had built a fire in that hearth,” Lucas muttered, and then busied himself doing just that. Until now it had escaped his notice that the sweater she was wearing didn’t look anywhere near as warm as his—although she filled it out a lot better, a fact which hadn’t escaped his notice at all. He forced himself to concentrate on the work at hand, and soon a roaring blaze filled the big stone fireplace.

She paused in her work to look at his. “You’re quite good at that,” she remarked.

Lucas turned to her. “It’s a skill a man learns early, where I’m from.”

A hint of amusement played at the corners of her lips. “Even when you’re a prince?”

“Of course,” he said seriously, not sure what she was getting at. As the only child of royal parentage, he didn’t have much experience with being teased. Was that what she was doing, or did she really think that his being a prince meant that he was some kind of wimp? Despite that niggling question, he found that putting his hands to use had righted his perspective. This wasn’t a formal affair of state, after all, and having Annah prepare dinner seemed like much less of a big deal than the leap of faith he was taking by putting his future into her hands. Still, Lucas trusted his friends. And it was clear that he himself had no way, mysterious or otherwise, to tell whether a woman was right for him. What’s more, he was wise enough to know that he needed a partner, someone who lived in the town and knew its people. Someone who could weed out the unsuitables and make introductions. Had they known about it, the grandmothers who gathered to gossip in village stores on the Constellation Isles would say that their prince had hired himself a matchmaker—and about time, too! He himself was more comfortable thinking of Annah Lane in terms of a consultant

That thought renewed his sense of purpose and his curiosity about her qualifications. Weren’t matchmakers supposed to be older, more-experienced women? “If I may be so bold as to ask, how can you help others find suitable matches when you are not married yourself?” he asked her.

“Been there, done that,” she said offhandedly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m divorced,” she clarified.

He didn’t remember Erik or Whit mentioning that. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling badly that he’d asked.

She waved away his apology. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. And she sounded as if it didn’t.

That made him feel a little better, so he asked something that did matter. “Do you really think you’ll be able to help me find the kind of woman I’m looking for?”

She seemed to be thinking it over. “Let me make sure I understand exactly what you want,” she said. “First of all, why Anders Point?”

“Princes find brides here,” he said, making it sound, to Annah’s amusement, as if finding the right woman was a simple matter of geography. “And this seems like a pretty good place to find the kind of woman I am looking for. Someone like the women Erik and Whit found.”

“Sorry,” Annah said, unable to keep from smiling at that. “I’m fresh out of best friends, and even if I had one left, I don’t think I’d let you have her, anyway. It’s getting lonely around here, with princes swooping in and carrying them off to live happily ever after.”

She hoped she wasn’t imagining the slight smile she saw underneath his beard. If he had even a smidgen of a sense of humor behind that royal demeanor, maybe he would go for her plan after all. “What is it about them that you would want in a wife?” she prodded.

He thought about that. “I guess it’s that they’re so—” he paused, as if groping for the right word “—ordinary.”

“Oh, boy,” she said playfully, rolling her eyes. “You’d best keep that one under your crown, Your Highness. No woman likes to think of herself as ordinary.”

“You misunderstand me,” he said, frowning.

“Then make me understand,” she said, smiling at him encouragingly. “If you want me to find a bride for you, give me something to work with.” She placed her hand on his and jiggled it playfully, hoping to get him to lighten up a little. The casual touch had the opposite effect on her. Once again chills danced through her, and they didn’t stop at the point of contact, but radiated up her arm, warm and mysterious. Again she pulled back abruptly.

If he noticed anything, she couldn’t tell from his response. “When I say I want an ordinary woman, I mean a woman who’s not like—” He stopped cold.

“Not like the women you meet at diplomatic parties, state dinners and other official events?” she suggested.

“That’s right,” he said, as if marveling at her insight.

It was as she had expected, but she was still relieved to hear him admit it. “Good,” she said. “Because that’s the whole basis of my plan.”

“What plan?”

She took a deep breath and plunged right in. “It’s simple, really,” she said. “The best way to find an ordinary woman is to be an ordinary man.”

“No doubt,” he said dryly. “But the fact of the matter is, I am a prince.”

She held her gaze steady. “You know that, and I know that—but we’ve established the fact that no one else in Anders Point knows that.”

“That still doesn’t make me an ordinary man,” he said.

“Doesn’t it?”

“Miss Lane,” he began, the intensity in his gray eyes sending warmth her way.

“Annah,” she said, correcting him automatically. He was an ordinary man, she told herself, and she was going to treat him like one. Not like a prince. Not like a man who could make her insides cook at a glance. Just an ordinary man.

“Annah, what exactly are you getting at?”

She looked straight at him. “Okay, here it is. I think you should go undercover.”

He stared at her. “Undercover?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“You can’t be serious,” he said, frowning.

“Why not?” she said. “Remember, no one knows you’re here.”

“So you want me to change my identity?”

“Not change it—hide it,” she corrected. “Your princely identity, that is.”

“That’s crazy!”

“On the contrary, it’s perfectly logical, Your Highness,” she countered calmly. “I’m not asking you to renounce the throne or anything. Just to do without your title for a while. Tell me, do you have a surname? I’ve only ever heard you referred to as Prince Lucas.”

He was still looking at her as if she had taken leave of her good sense. “It’s Hansson. By custom it is not used.”

“Good,” she said. “You can be here as Luke Hansson, ordinary man, instead of as Prince Lucas, ruler of the Constellation Isles and wife hunter.”

“But being a prince is who I am,” he pointed out.

“A part of who you are. You’re also a man, a man who says he’s looking for an ordinary, small-town woman. I say she’ll be easier to find if you get rid of the trappings of royalty.”

“But—”

“Trust me, your odds of success will greatly increase. It will scare off the prince groupies, and it will ensure that women act like themselves around you.”

He thought about that. Bizarre as it seemed, what she was saying made sense. Personal experience confirmed that when it came to marrying a prince, a woman would say or do or promise or pretend just about anything.

“Doing it this way will also save time,” she added. “It will allow us to dispense with a lot of formalities. That deadline of yours is awfully tight.”

Didn’t he know it. That was the kicker. “I’ll have to think about it,” he heard himself say.

He went down the steps to the wine cellar. What was he saying? Think about it! His intellect told him he’d have to be insane even to consider it. But the lesson he’d learned the hard way told him otherwise.

He was still thinking when he returned to the kitchen with the bottle he had chosen. Glad to have something to do with his hands, he opened it up and filled two glasses. Annah turned around from the stove as he carried them over, her cheeks flushed from cooking, and for a moment he felt an odd thrill of warmth that he couldn’t quite attribute to the fire.

“Dinner is—”

“Something smells—”

They both stopped and smiled at each other. Even that slight stretching of his cheeks under his beard felt unfamiliar, making him realize how little he had done that lately.

“Delicious,” he finished.

“Want to see whether it tastes as good as it smells?” she asked, holding up a spoonful of some kind of stew to his lips. He was genuinely taken aback. None of the chefs on his staff would ever dream of taking such an outrageous liberty with him, even if he had given them the opportunity by being in the kitchen. When he opened his mouth to demur, she popped the spoon inside.

He had commanded his own utensils since he had first been able. The last time anyone had spoon-fed him anything was far beyond his memory. He was her captive, standing there with a wineglass in each hand. A sensual shiver ran through him as she pulled the spoon back out, slowly, as if the better to let him savor the taste of the food. It tasted like a spoonful of heaven—with a generous helping of the fires of hell thrown in.

With a forbearance that was second nature to him, he handed her a glass of wine and lifted his own in salute. While she returned the gesture and took a sip, he took a healthy swig of his.

She noticed. “Uh-oh. Is the chili too spicy?” she asked.

“Not at all,” he said, which would have been the polite response that a formal dinner guest who had the audacity to ask such a question would have gotten from him. But to her he added, “Not if one had been forewarned that it was chili.”

Her eyes and mouth went round. “I’m so sorry! I thought you knew. No wonder you looked...taken by surprise.”

Too much about this woman surprised him, Lucas decided as they took their seats at the big table. He had met people the world over, from all walks of life, but he had never met anyone quite like her before.

“Want some shredded cheese to go with that chili?” she asked him, interrupting his thoughts.

He looked down at the steaming bowl that she had placed on the table in front of him. “Yes, thank you,” he said. She passed the cheese to him and started in on her salad, looking as if enjoying this meal was the only thing she had on her mind.

His mind was on other things, but he did notice when her glass was empty. Remembering that he was the host, he poured for her and asked, “Is there anything else you want?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I want to know how you like the chili,” she said, gesturing toward the food that he had forgotten. In the flickering light of the fire, he saw that a teasing smile played across those luscious lips of hers. “I really do. It’s a new recipe.”

“And I’m your guinea pig,” he said dryly. He took a spoonful of chili, ready for the bite this time. He took his time chewing and swallowing, aware that she was looking at him expectantly. It was good—rich and flavorful. “I like it,” he said.

She seemed pleased. “So the recipe’s a keeper?” she asked.

He nodded.

“I think so, too. Chili is bound to be a big seller at lunchtime, especially this time of year.”

He turned his attention back to his chili. It really did have just the right amount of oomph. He preferred it to most of the dainty delicacies that the palace chefs served. It was hot and hearty, a real man’s dish. If Annah served this up along with her sweet smile at lunchtime, her tiny little coffee shop would be packed.

As if on cue, she took his empty bowl away, ladled it full and set it down in front of him again. He looked down at it, then back at her. “I didn’t ask for a refill.”

“I know,” she said with a smile. “But you wanted one, didn’t you?”

“How did you know?” he asked, starting to dig in. “Do all of us ordinary guys want seconds?”

Annah laughed. She toyed with the stern of her wineglass while he finished eating. “It’s nice to know you have a sense of humor, Your Highness,” she said. “It will come in handy for my plan.”

“I haven’t agreed to it yet.”

“Well, while you’re thinking about it, why don’t you give me a little better idea of what you’re looking for in a bride?”

Fair enough. And very simple. “I’m looking for compatibility,” he said. “I want a woman I have enough in common with to share my life with, someone who wants what I want.”

“Go on,” Annah said encouragingly, pleased at how he was opening up. As he talked, the bond that she had first felt that afternoon seemed to strengthen. “Is there anything specific that is important to you?”

He answered without hesitation. “Above all, she has to love children and want to have them.”

Annah felt each word fall on her heart like a hammer stroke. Reminding herself that she had asked for this by getting involved didn’t soften the blows.

At her silence he went on to clarify. “I’m not talking about procreating to fulfill the duty of providing heirs for the succession to the throne. What I really want is a woman who will be a good and loving mother to our children,” he said softly. “That’s the most important thing of all.”

Lucas looked away abruptly, this unaccustomed confession leaving him feeling as if he had just run a marathon. He took a sip of wine and steeled himself for more, but surprisingly she didn’t follow up with another question. He looked over, only to see her gazing into the fire, looking stricken. He wondered what was wrong with his answer.

Trying not to sound defensive, he said, “I don’t see why this should be a problem.” Again, he thought, frowning. “I thought women were supposed to want to have children.”

She pulled her gaze back to him, but her smile looked forced. “Most do,” she said, her voice oddly strained.

Something about the way she said it made him ask, “Don’t you?”

“Me? I...uh—” She shrugged. “Babies aren’t my thing.”

That explained her strange reaction. But it surprised him, given what he had seen of her. A small-town, matchmaking girl with a warm smile and a talent for dispensing cheer, hope and nourishment seemed like the maternal type to him. But then again, why should he be surprised that he had misread her so thoroughly? If he had been good at spotting that sort of thing he wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Not every woman wanted babies; that concept had long been a fact of his life. The ones that didn’t had their reasons. He didn’t care to ask what hers were, but he supposed Annah was more interested in her businesses. As strong as the issue was for him, he was fairminded enough to see that she could still help him, despite her personal preferences on that matter. He just wanted to be sure that she understood his. He leaned his hands on the kitchen table. “The woman I’m looking for, babies will most definitely be her ‘thing,”’ he said flatly.

She nodded.

“And if I have to go undercover to find her...”

She looked up at him. “You’ll go along with my plan, then?”

“First tell me precisely what you have in mind.”

“Okay,” she said briskly. “First of all we’d have to get you out of this castle, the sooner the better. An ordinary guy would have no reason to live here.”

“True. Are there any hotels in town?”

“A couple of bed-and-breakfasts, but they’re closed this time of year. Besides, if you want a hometown girl, you have to be a hometown guy. You can stay at my house,” she offered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I think you should move in with me.”

She sounded so casual about it! He knew what an invitation like that meant in his homeland—if he slept one night under the same roof as a single woman, they’d be married by morning! He knew what an invitation like that meant from a jaded veteran of the ultrachic international circles, too. But he had no idea in the world it meant from a woman like her, in a place like Anders Point. “Move in with you?” he repeated.

“It’s perfectly logical. It will make it easier for us to work together, and I’ve got a spare bedroom you can have all to yourself.”

Sleeping arrangements aside, he couldn’t imagine two people living in that little dollhouse of hers—in the space that wasn’t taken up by her two businesses. Even this castle seemed small compared to his palace in the Constellation Isles. “I couldn’t possibly impose like that,” he said.

“Nonsense,” she said. “I want you to.”

Strange as it sounded, he believed her, and realized that he had just found out for himself what people meant when they talked about American hospitality.

“Your staying with me would also give us a reason for you to be in town,” she went on. “We’ll pass you off as Luke Hansson, an old friend of mine, while I get you together with women around here.”

He still wasn’t convinced it would be that easy. “Even with a different name, won’t I be recognizable?”

She had an answer for that, too. “You would be, if we didn’t change your appearance.”

“Change my appearance? How?”

“There’s only one way that a face that appears with such regularity on newsstands the world over is going to gain any kind of anonymity, even in a place like Anders Point,” she said seriously. “And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Neither did he, whatever it was. “What is it?” he asked cautiously.

“Well, the way I see it, the one thing that would work is if you get rid of your most recognizable feature. Your trademark.”

He leaned his forearms on the table. “Miss Lane—”

“Annah.”

“Are you suggesting that I shave my beard?”

“Oh no, I’m more than suggesting. I’m insisting.”

He pushed his chair back from the table. “Unthinkable,” he said with finality.

She crossed her arms. “If you don’t, you’ll never get away with this. Especially around women.”

“No.”

The word hung in the air between them for several minutes, while they faced off. “Then you’ll just have to come up with another plan on your own,” she said finally. “This is the only plan I have, and the only way it will work.”

Getting up from the table, he put another log on the fire and watched as the flames engulfed it. He lingered there long after he needed to for the sake of fire building, thinking about what she had said.

Annah watched the flickering light play across his brooding features while she cleared the table and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. She was tempted to break the silence, but there was really nothing more to say. It was up to him now.

When she was finished, she could see that he was still weighing her plan in his mind. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’m going home now, so you can finish thinking this over. But you need to make a decision tonight.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the castle is supposed to be empty.” Whit and Drew were honeymooning, and the caretaker was on vacation. “I can explain away the lights here this evening, because I’ve got a set of keys and a strong need to borrow an industrial-size coffeepot,” she said. “But if you’re here in the morning, the jig is up. You’ll be Prince Lucas, princess hunting in Anders Point.”

He registered that without a word, then disappeared while she was packing up her bags. A few minutes later, he came back with her jacket. He helped her put it on, then carried the big coffee urn for her.

Outside, her car was running. She looked at him.

“I thought I’d get it warmed up for you,” he said.

She found herself speechless at his thoughtfulness. He must have noticed her putting the keys in her jacket pocket when she arrived.

He opened the door for her. “Get in,” he said gruffly. “You must be freezing out here.”

No one was ever that concerned with her comfort. Obediently she slid behind the wheel, and he closed the door behind her. When he was halfway up the steps again, she rolled down the window. “Luke,” she called out softly. He stopped for a moment before turning around and coming back to the car.

“What is it?”

He was leaning over, his face right next to hers. Another wave of warmth washed over her, in defiance of the weather. “I really think this will work,” she said. “I’ll keep the back door unlocked for you. Your bedroom is the one at the top of the stairs.”