Читать книгу The Blacksheep Prince's Bride - Martha Shields - Страница 11

Rowena Wilde hated this house.

The Dowager Cottage was a dismal place. Built three centuries ago of native granite, the three-story “cottage” sat on the edge of the cliff like an old woman hunkered down against the storms blowing off the North Sea.

It was where extraneous queens grieved for lost husbands, relived former glory and waited to die.

As she stood with one hand wrapped around a cold iron spoke on the front gate, Rowena recalled the times she’d accompanied Princess Isabel as she visited her grandmother, who’d died three years ago. They’d sipped tea in the gloomy parlor with heavy velvet curtains shutting out the light. Though central heat had been installed years ago, the house was never warm. Even with a blazing fire. Even in the middle of July.

Rowena had known she’d have to stay here when she and Isabel had concocted this plan. Which was one reason she’d been half-hoping Jake Stanbury would refuse to accept her as his son’s nanny.

The cottage was full of ghosts, and Rowena had never been comfortable around ghosts.

The other reason, of course, was Jake.

Jake and the Dowager Cottage. Alone, each was a daunting prospect. Together…

Rowena shivered despite the bright April afternoon sunlight.

Both Jake and the cottage got her blood pumping, but for vastly different reasons—all related to fear.

Which was ridiculous.

Taking a deep breath, Rowena marshaled her inner resolve.

There was nothing to be afraid of. The cottage was just a pile of stone. She could dissipate the gloom by tearing down curtains and turning on lamps. And Jake…

Well, she was here for a reason. As long as she kept her mind on her purpose, she wouldn’t get sidetracked by feelings she understood all too well…and dreaded.

Rowena forced her lips into her customary smile. Her mother had always said that the best way to conquer fear was to smile your way through it. She’d learned a long time ago that her mother was right. As long as she was smiling, she couldn’t scream.

Rowena released the gate latch…wishing she didn’t feel like Sleeping Beauty about to prick her finger.

“I’m going to get you.”

Jake Stanbury stopped dead, his hand still on the knob of the massive, intricately carved front door. He recognized the voice immediately.

So Rowena Wilde had moved in.

The new nanny’s heavily sinister tone seemed to prove the possibility that had occurred to him when his royal cousin, Princess Isabel, had suggested her lady-in-waiting as caregiver for his two-year-old son—the possibility that Rowena had been placed in his household as a spy.

What the hell was he going to do now? Leave her here to poke through his papers and roam the dreary old house he’d been assigned when Sammy’s noisy antics became too much for the guests—notably Edward, his own father—in the palace apartment where they’d been staying? What if she rifled through his things while Sammy was around? Would she blithely tell the boy that his father was suspected of kidnapping the King of Edenbourg?

“I’ll find you, Sammy-Jammy. You just wait.”

Muffled giggling followed her words.

Relief flooded through Jake. They were playing a game.

Shaking his head, he closed the door and placed his briefcase on the chest in the foyer.

This is what the strain of the past month had brought him to—suspecting a sweet, beautiful young woman of playing Mata Hari. Probably the biggest intrigue Rowena had been involved in was finding the laundress responsible for scorching the princess’s favorite gown.

Jake stripped off his suit coat and laid it across his briefcase, then followed the happy sounds to the door of the formal parlor, heavily furnished in some Gothic style. Whoever had decorated this house either had eclectic tastes or access to the palace attic, because every room was decorated with a different period of antiques.

Blindfolded, her arms outstretched, Rowena wandered around the large room. Sammy peeked out from under an antique side table on the other side of the couch, one hand over his mouth to stem the tide of his laughter.

Blind Man’s Bluff. Such a simple game, but Jake had never thought to play it with his son, who was having such a good time he relieved Jake of any lingering suspicions. Sammy’s happiness was all that mattered.

Ever since Sammy’s mother had deserted them, his son had panic attacks every time Jake had to leave him with a sitter. Which was the main reason Jake needed a nanny.

He was determined to give his son a stable home. He’d been forced to use baby-sitters—strangers to Sammy—when he was out of the house, and had rarely managed to get the same one twice. Since Jake couldn’t be with Sammy twenty-four hours a day, he hoped having a live-in nanny would add stability to his son’s life.

Though he no longer had to work for a living, Jake’s expertise in mergers and acquisitions was in high demand. And there were some offers he couldn’t refuse. Like the one presented last week—as a consultant to Edenbourg’s acting king, his cousin, Nicholas.

The work was just a way to keep him busy. He knew it, and everyone else knew it. The suggestion that his expertise was needed by Nicholas was simply a way to save the royal family the embarrassment of asking him to turn over his passport so he couldn’t leave the country and return to America while they investigated any involvement he might have had in the king’s disappearance. His uncle’s disappearance.

Recognizing the frustrating path his thoughts were traveling down, Jake forced his attention back to the playful pair in the parlor.

Sammy’s giggling should’ve led Rowena right to him, of course, but she flailed around comically, running into tables and upsetting lamps and antique knickknacks which she pretended to barely catch in time. Her antics sent Sammy into fresh peals of laughter.

Jake couldn’t suppress a smile, though the tenderness melting his heart was all for his son. It definitely wasn’t for the petite, auburn-haired beauty bungling around his living room.

The only thing he felt for Rowena was gratitude. He finally had someone he could leave Sammy with—and feel good about it. Someone who’d already proved she could coax his son out of his panic attacks and shyness.

Jake leaned against the doorjamb to watch their antics, but straightened abruptly a moment later. Something was out of place. The only item in the room made during the last century was a shiny steel step stool…directly in Rowena’s path.

He didn’t have time to wonder what it was doing there. Vaulting over the couch, he launched himself off the side table just in time to catch Rowena as she stumbled into it.

Their combined momentum took them down, but Jake grabbed her waist and twisted so his back hit the floor first, taking her slight weight.

Rowena didn’t scream as they fell, just emitted a quick, “Oh!”

She landed flat on top of him, her legs straddling one of his, her nose buried in his chest. “What in the…?”

Because of the antique oriental rug covering the centuries-old oak floor, Jake wasn’t in enough pain to keep his body from reacting—especially when Rowena started squirming to free her hands.

Though his mind denied the feelings every time they surfaced, his body knew that he’d been attracted to Rowena since the instant he’d seen her. And now his body reminded his mind of every moment he’d indulged in sensuous fantasies about what his body wanted to do to her small but oh-so-curvaceous body.

He couldn’t remember having such a strong reaction to a woman. Ever. Including his ex-wife.

“Daddy’s home!”

His son’s cry doused enough flames for Jake’s mind to regain control.

He grabbed Rowena’s hips to keep them still…but it didn’t help. Having his hands on her bottom incited his libido just as much. Her curves were soft and warm, as was the sweet scent of roses wafting through his brain.

He could only hope she was too confused to notice what was happening between them.

When Rowena freed a hand and peeled back her blindfold, the instant of surprise lighting her long-lashed, wonderfully expressive, golden hazel eyes held a hint of pleasure. “Mr. Stanbury.”

Or was it another trick of his mind?

He couldn’t tell, because the pleasure was quickly masked with concern. “Where did you come from? Are you all right?”

Having clambered out from under the table, Sammy threw himself onto the pile.

Jake emitted a soft “oof” with the added weight.

Rowena struggled to rise. “Oh, dear. Sammy, please get off. We’re crushing your father.”

Jake smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Rowena couldn’t free herself with Sammy half on top of her. “Allowing you to breathe is ridiculous?”

He chuckled. “The two of you together don’t weigh as much as one normal person.”

Her dark red-brown eyebrows drew together as if she couldn’t decide whether he was insulting or complimenting her. “And just how often do you have ‘normal’ people on top of you?”

“Often enough to tell,” he countered.

“Daddy, guess what?”

“What, Sammy?”

“Ena’s here.”

“I know.” Jake’s smile turned to a grin. “Her elbow is sticking into my ribs. Or is that your knee?”

“Why didn’t you say something?” She carefully extricated herself from between them.

“I did.” Jake sat up easily, bringing Sammy with him. He froze immediately.

Rowena had rolled to her knees and her silk blouse had pulled away from her chest. Jake had a clear vision of two wonderfully ripe breasts falling into a black silk bra that would’ve done Victoria’s Secret proud.

As he swallowed the thick lump which suddenly stopped his air supply, Sammy scrambled over to Rowena, who sat back Indian-style and patted the full skirt that modestly covered her legs. She smiled fondly and settled Sammy in her lap.

Though Jake felt deserted, he was glad Rowena was covered up, and that she was unaware of how much he wanted to slowly unbutton every silk-covered button and—

“Thank you for rescuing me, Mr. Stanbury. Although there was no need.”

Jake’s attention swung back to reality with a hard blink. “No need? You were about to break your neck.”

“I doubt it would’ve broken.” Her smile turned impish. “As you pointed out, I’m not very tall. Which means my neck is much closer to the ground than yours.”

Beautiful, funny and she could turn a joke on herself as well. Jake had always admired people who could laugh at themselves. He’d found it an indication of intelligence and self-confidence beyond the norm.

Damn.

What the hell was he doing sitting on the floor with her? The last thing he needed was to let his libido lead him down the path to destruction. He’d been there, done that.

Annette had taken his heart and ripped it into shreds—which she threw in his face as she walked out the door for a man with more money and more ambition.

And Jake had a sneaking suspicion that Rowena had more than beauty in common with Annette.

His cousin’s lady-in-waiting didn’t top the list of the hot palace buzz. The gossip was low-key and inconsistent. Still, Jake had made enough firsthand observations and gleaned enough information to piece together an unflattering picture.

Rowena dated more than a few of the diplomats and officials who visited Edenbourg, never going out with the same man more than a few times. But what was more important, she never dated anyone who didn’t have a title.

He’d learned too late that Annette had only married him because of his royal blood. Annette had learned too late that she wouldn’t benefit from his connections to the royal family of Edenbourg.

He was American through and through, and didn’t give a damn about a country he’d never visited, or a family who’d never so much as sent him a birthday card.

Rowena also had a flirtatious nature in common with Annette, which he’d witnessed on the few occasions she’d attended royal functions. She flitted around the palace rooms like a butterfly, bestowing her devastatingly bright, sweetly impish smile on every man there…except him. Because he didn’t have a title.

Jake shoved aside the irritation that realization always brought. He was glad she didn’t come on to him. It made it easier to listen to his brain rather than his libido. He was definitely not interested in having a relationship with her.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

He’d all but panicked when Isabel had suggested Rowena as his nanny. But since the proposal came from his royal cousin, he knew it was yet another offer he couldn’t refuse.

He’d been able to avoid close contact with the lovely lady-in-waiting for the month he’d been forced to stay in Edenbourg. And because he knew he couldn’t avoid her altogether if they lived in the same house, he’d planned to stay clear of her as much as possible when he was home.

He certainly hadn’t planned to take a tumble with her on the parlor floor the minute he walked through the door. Or to be sitting here longing to drag her onto his lap. He would snake one arm around her tiny waist, then with the other he’d stroke back her thick, richly-hued auburn hair and kiss the soft skin of the small, curving neck—

Damn.

Jake dragged his eyes away from the lovely neck she joked about. What was wrong with him? Sammy was sitting right there on her lap.

This was not starting out well.

The smart thing would be to stand up—now—dust himself off and make some excuse about paperwork.

Instead, he said, “Jake.”

“Pardon me?”

If he could’ve kicked himself in his traitorous mouth, he would’ve. His insistence on her calling him Jake had come in a moment of weakness…right after he’d agreed to accept her as Sammy’s nanny.

He’d had to take Sammy along with him to the palace one day when the sitter didn’t show. Isabel had simply nodded to Rowena, who stepped forward and charmed Sammy so much he allowed her to lead him away, all smiles. And his son had returned the same way. Right then, he’d known Rowena was worth her weight in platinum and he’d offered her the nanny job on the spot.

That was his excuse at the time. What was it now?

But…he had to finish what his mouth started. Didn’t he?

“When you agreed to stay here with Sammy, you also agreed to call me Jake, not Mr. Stanbury. We shook hands on it, remember?”

“Oh. That’s right.” The faintest blush touched her cheek, and she forced a smile. “I’m sorry…Jake. I just…I guess I didn’t want to seem forward.”

Her blush caught and held Jake’s attention. He’d never seen Annette blush. His ex-wife was so calculating that she was no longer capable of blushing.

Damn. Why did Rowena have to go and do that?

There’d been enough of these seemingly insignificant clues to keep him guessing. To keep him from believing—deep down—the conclusions he’d come to about Rowena. To keep him thinking that there was more to her than she wanted anyone to see.

Jake wanted to peel back the layers and search for the real woman beneath.

Unsettled by the revealing realization, Jake didn’t even try to keep sarcasm from his voice. “And you’re never forward, are you, Miss Wilde?”

Her face registered mild shock at his rude comment. She started to say something, then pressed her lips together and used them to place a kiss on Sammy’s head. From that position, she said softly, “If I have to call you Jake, then you should call me Rowena.”

Jake was too much a lawyer to be dragged from the subject so easily. “I—”

Suddenly a bright ray of light struck Jake’s eye, catching his attention. Glancing around, he saw afternoon sunlight streaming into the west-facing bank of windows, lighting up the room.

Then he saw why. The heavy velvet curtains had been taken down, though one at each window had been draped on the curtain rod as a swag. Not enough to get in the way, just enough to add a decorative touch.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, a bit defensively. “I couldn’t bear to live here in all the gloom.”

“Gwoom?” Sammy lifted his head to look straight up at her. “Whatsat?”

She peered down at him. “Remember how dark the room was before you helped me? Gloomy is just another word for that.”

“We do all rooms, right? You said?”

Rowena smoothed Sammy’s hair off his face, then glanced up at Jake. “If your father doesn’t mind.”

Jake let go of his pique. Rowena’s ambitions were no concern of his. “I guess that explains what the step stool is doing here. Yes, please take down as many curtains as you like. This is much better. I didn’t like it being so dark, either, but I didn’t realize I could do anything about it.”

She lifted a slender shoulder. “No one has lived here for three years. Every dowager queen redecorates when she moves in, anyway. I’m just saving Queen Josephine the trouble of—”

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked when she broke off suddenly.

Her eyes were wide as they met his. “I’m talking as if she’d be moving in soon. Which means I must think, deep down, that…”

“That my uncle is dead.”

She nodded fearfully.

Jake was touched by the tears in her eyes. Her emotion was sincere. He’d bet his next consulting fee on it. She really loved his uncle.

He wanted to lean forward and place a comforting hand on the arm wrapped around his son, but didn’t. “It’s frustrating to everyone, not knowing. I never met my uncle, but from what I’ve heard, he’s a good man.”

She searched his eyes, then asked, “You think he’s alive?”

Jake didn’t look away. “I don’t know. If he wasn’t, I think they would’ve found…some evidence.”

“You mean his—” Her gaze dropped to Sammy, then she sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“He’s okay,” Jake said. “I know you’re worried. I’m worried, too. Everyone’s worried.”

Their gazes met again, and held. Hers asked questions her lips wouldn’t.

Had he kidnapped…and killed…King Michael?

It was the first intimation that she might think so, and once again the possibility flitted across his mind that Rowena had been placed in his house to spy.

Jake wasn’t the only suspect, of course. His cousin, Nicholas, Jake’s father, Edward, and his older brother, Luke, were also considered to have motivation since they were first, second and third in line for the throne, respectively.

Jake was fourth in line, but because he’d been the first to see the smashed railing where the King’s car had skidded off a cliff and plummeted to the rocky beach below, he was at the top of the list of suspects. He’d called the police, which made him the first on the scene, and automatically made the odds on him rise considerably. At least in the eyes of the authorities.

He supposed he should be flattered that they considered him capable of such a momentous crime—which required significant finesse and forethought—all with a two-year-old in tow after barely having stepped off the plane.

But somehow, he wasn’t.

He believed the fabled Chamber of Riches—reputed to hold a king’s ransom in royal jewels—was just that…a fable. Obtaining the key to the Chamber was supposedly his motive.

Living here, Rowena would have ample opportunity to find any evidence linking him to his uncle’s disappearance, which had happened on the day Jake had landed in Edenbourg.

There wasn’t any evidence to find, of course, but they didn’t know that…yet.

The thought of Rowena going through his things while he was away made him want to open the front door and toss her straight out into the royal rose bushes.

Then he realized that wasn’t what he wanted to do at all. What he really wanted to do was convince her of his innocence. He wanted her to believe in him, to believe he wasn’t capable of killing anyone, much less his uncle. Even one he’d never met.

Damn. This definitely was not starting out well.

Rowena was the first to look away. “What time would you like dinner?”

Her question startled him. “You’re going to cook?”

She nodded. “Mrs. Hanson left as soon as I arrived this afternoon. I think she was a bit miffed that you left Sammy with her.”

A spy who cooked? That was unique…unless she was planning to poison him. But he didn’t think she was here to do away with him, just to see what he knew about the king’s disappearance.

“I know she was upset with me, but I didn’t arrange for yet another baby-sitter because I thought you’d be moved in by noon.”

“I’m sorry. Something came up with Isabel.”

“I understand.”

Jake pressed a thumb into his temple. The strain really was getting to him. Rowena was no spy. She was a lady-in-waiting, a glorified maid who happened to be very good with children. She was here as a nanny, not a spy.

That was why they had him up at the palace the best part of every day. So the ones who were qualified could watch him in the comfort of their own home.

“You don’t have to cook. Why don’t you go get yours and Sammy’s things and we’ll go to a restaurant. Know a good one?”

She stared at him as if he’d turned blue. “You want me to come with you?”

“You don’t want to?”

“It’s not that. It’s just…Why?”

Her amazement surprised him. Surely she’d gone to fancy restaurants on all her high-powered dates. “I don’t know. Because you’re hungry?”

She cocked her face and peered at him sideways. “I’d rather cook, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Fine. I just wanted to save you the trouble. You’ve been with Sammy all afternoon, and I know how exhausting that can be.” He butted Sammy’s knee with a fist. “No offense, little guy.”

Sammy giggled.

“I’m fine,” Rowena insisted. “And don’t worry. I won’t poison you. I cooked all my father’s meals after my mother died when I was twelve. I’m quite a good cook.”

“I didn’t think…” He glanced away guilty. The thought had occurred to him. “Never mind.”

Her words relieved the last vestiges of suspicion, and Jake’s stomach chose that moment to grumble about not eating since breakfast.

Rowena chuckled, and finally relaxed. “It’s not your mind that’s complaining.”

“You really don’t have to cook, you know.”

“Tell that to your stomach.” With a hand on Sammy’s bottom, she pushed him to his feet. “Sammy and I laid out everything in the kitchen. It will only take half an hour.”

Since she was determined, Jake rose and held out a hand.

She paused with both hands on the floor, glanced at his hand, then up at him.

“It won’t poison you,” he said softly.

She didn’t retort, or even smile. After a noticeable hesitation, she gingerly placed her hand in his.

Jake wrapped his long fingers around her slender hand and pulled her to her feet. Her weight was so slight and he was feeling so unnerved, he miscalculated and pulled with enough force to yank her against him.

“Oh,” they said in unison.

She lifted her head, then they both went still.

Her startled golden gaze mesmerized him, narrowing his awareness to the space around them. Her lips could be featured in an ad for collagen injections. They were lusciously moist and slightly parted in surprise. Her breathing was shallow and rapid.

She trembled ever so slightly in his arms. With fear? Desire? Both?

Jake could feel her left fist digging into his chest. Her right hand was still captured in his left. Her slight weight leaned into him, one leg braced between his.

He wanted to do far more than kiss her, and the feeling jarred him back to reality.

He couldn’t touch her. She was too much like Annette.

She stepped back a second before he let her go.

Without glancing up, she murmured, “Sorry. I’ll…I’ll…Oh yes. I’ll go prepare dinner.”

He watched as she fled the room.

Her discomfiture told him two things. She was attracted to him as well, and she was fighting it just as hard.

The only reason for that he could come up with was that he didn’t have a title.

“Daddy, play with me.”

Jake turned his attention to his son, convinced he’d done the right thing.

Rowena knocked softly, then pushed open the door between the dining room and the parlor with the intention of telling Jake and Sammy their dinner was ready.

Instead, she hesitated.

Father and son were sitting together in a burgundy damask wingback chair by a window open to let in a soft spring breeze and the sound of the surf below. The last rays of the sun caught the side of Jake’s face, making the strong lines seem even more angular.

Jake’s long legs were stretched out on an ottoman as he concentrated on a stack of papers in his lap. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves and tucked his son into the crook of his left arm.

Sammy’s little legs barely reached the end of the chair cushion. His attention was riveted on a book laid open across his own lap. He turned the pages slowly and carefully.

Rowena’s face relaxed into a smile. What a heartwarming picture they made. A loving father and an adoring son.

How could such a man have kidnapped the king? His very own uncle? Family seemed important to Jake. She’d never seen a father as attentive as he was to Sammy. And though his overtures were hesitant, he took every opportunity to spend time with his newfound cousins.

Was that all for show?

Rowena shook away the tender feelings.

Jake was a suspect in the king’s disappearance. That’s what she had to concentrate on—trying to find evidence that would incriminate him, which would exonerate Isabel’s brother, Nicholas.

Rowena had promised Isabel she’d search high and low for evidence…but now that she was here, she found it difficult to believe Jake capable of such a crime—which meant she had to concentrate doubly hard on her purpose in being here.

Even if she hadn’t already known, the incident earlier had proven she was strongly attracted to Jake. She’d almost pushed up on her toes and kissed the man…right there in front of Sammy.

Her stupid attraction was the reason she didn’t believe he was guilty. She didn’t want to believe it. That, and the unhappy realization that finding Jake guilty—a man who loved his son so much—would leave Sammy fatherless.

Concentrating wasn’t going to be easy. When she’d felt his obvious reaction to her lying on top of him, all she could think of was wiggling her way up his body and planting her lips on his. Thank God he’d held her in place. Though she’d enjoyed the intimacy of his hands on her derriere, the caress had distracted her long enough for her to pull her wits together and stop.

Who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t?

He wanted her. That was plain enough. After he’d pulled her to her feet, he’d almost kissed her. She was as certain of that as she was of her name.

But he didn’t want to want her—and his sarcastic question had told her why.

You’re never forward, are you, Miss Wilde?

He didn’t trust her because of her reputation.

Rowena’s nails dug into her palms.

How long would Prince Heinrich’s duplicity haunt her?

She’d given her heart to the royal rake from Leuvendan five years ago. He’d visited often back then, wooing her passionately. But when she wouldn’t sleep with him, he became angry and told everyone that she had anyway, giving them ugly, nasty details from his sick imagination.

That incident, it seemed, had branded her for life. Edenbourg—especially the palace—was a small place. Everyone knew everyone else’s secrets…and never forgot.

Many men who came to Edenbourg wanted to date her—either despite her reputation or because of it. She went out with some of them, mostly to keep Isabel happy. But she never slept with a single one—partly to prove she was not the wanton everyone thought her, partly because she just didn’t want to.

However, her celibacy didn’t help. A few of the men were too honorable to talk about their relationship, but most were too egocentric to let everyone think the woman who slept with everyone else wouldn’t sleep with them.

She couldn’t win.

Although…

In this situation, perhaps her undeserved reputation would protect her. She was far too attracted to Jake. Though good fathers weren’t often rakes, he was still royal. At least, close enough to count.

She’d promised herself that she’d never fall in love again…but especially not with a royal, or any man with a title. They were too self-absorbed, too accustomed to getting their own way.

So, let him believe she was “forward.”

As for her, she had to focus on the task she had to perform for her country, for Isabel.

It didn’t matter that the task came with shoulders as wide as the horizon, sky-blue eyes capable of peering all the way into her soul, and chiseled lips that demanded, “Kiss me.”

Those lips might also be capable of saying, “Kill him,” to some thug as he looked a king straight in the eye.

Rowena shivered.

She hated this house. It was always cold.