Kathryn Jensen – I Married A Prince (страница 2)

A slender ribbon of peace stretched over his frustration and anger. His grip relaxed on the handrail. The tension knotting his neck slowly released. He breathed in the salty air.

The geography was so different here from landlocked Elbia. The tiny eastern European country had survived German aggression during two world wars and Russian intimidation in the cold war that followed. Elbia, like Monaco and Liechtenstein and only a handful of other modern countries, remained a monarchy, an anachronism in today’s high-tech world. As Thomas had so wisely stated, only his country’s traditions separated her from becoming absorbed by larger countries or falling into impoverishment. She offered little in the way of valuable resources. She had no oil, no diamonds, no major crops or industries. Her borders included neither a port on open water nor easy access to other rich lands. But she did possess spectacular lakes, breathtaking mountains and ancient castles of unparalleled magnificence. Tourism kept Elbia alive, but without the glamour of the royals and the glitter of the many annual events in her capital city to attract the thousands of visitors who came each year she would be ruined.

Jacob pressed his fingertips against his temples and closed his eyes. “The bottom line is, the king says I must return and take a bride. Immediately. That piece of paper listed his personal top ten choices.”

“And?” Thomas asked, an amused lilt in his voice.

“I want none of them.”

“If they are the same young ladies your father has mentioned before, each is quite agreeable. Of royal blood...well-moneyed families...socially flawless...Several are quite beautiful.”

“Then you marry them.” Jacob waved an impatient hand. He finished his coffee and tossed the mug down on a chaise that had been occupied by a New York actress with exceptionally long legs and a willing smile the night before. “They leave me cold.”

“Nevertheless, you’ve had...shall we say, relations with several of the ladies, I believe.”

“I’ve slept with dozens of women in nearly every country in the world,” Jacob stated flatly. “Having sex with a woman doesn’t make her someone I’d want to live with for the rest of my life.”

Thomas laid a hand on the prince’s shoulder. His calm tan-colored eyes observed him from above rotund cheeks and a tidily trimmed Henry VIII beard. “Other men have fulfilled far more distasteful obligations on their countries’ behalf,” he commented gently.

Jacob nodded. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve always understood my duty, and I intended to do it when the time came. But now that it’s here—damn it, I can’t! I don’t know why, but I can’t.” He hesitated. “There was one...once...but she—”

“One? A woman?” Thomas’s eyes brightened.

“Yes. She was special. She was...” What exactly had she been to him during that summer over two years ago? The American girl with the enormous blue-green eyes and hair that had flowed like pale champagne to her shoulders. She had been sweet, simple, loving—and he had found himself utterly charmed by her. No woman had affected him so deeply before or since.

But she was a commoner—and an American on top of that, which was even worse in his father’s eyes. Jacob had known, even as they’d lain in each others’ arms, he’d have to leave her. It had been the hardest single moment of his life, walking away from her bed that night. Just leaving. Without so much as a goodbye. Without explaining to her who he really was and why he couldn’t stay with her.

He’d been a physical and emotional mess for weeks after. But then he’d returned to school and forced himself to concentrate on his studies, which were grueling at the graduate level, and the months had passed. He’d survived.

The only problem was, his relationships with women had changed in a troubling way. More than two years after he’d left her, he still didn’t feel in another woman’s arms the sweet and total satisfaction he’d found in hers.

Jacob turned his gaze on the stony line of beach, glowing amber in the autumn sun. The water was still warm enough for swimming, but it wouldn’t be for long with winter approaching.

“This woman,” Thomas began cautiously. “Is she why we came here last night, when it would have been easier to dock in Greenwich?”

Jacob scowled. He dropped his head in a reluctant nod. “Her name was Allison,” he whispered. The sea breeze pulled the syllables from his lips, whisking them away. He hadn’t spoken her name since the night he’d left, but he’d thought of her often. Too often.

“Is she not a possible wife?” Thomas asked.

“No.” Jacob let out a raspy laugh. “She was as far from princess material as any woman could be. My father would never allow it.”

“I see.” Thomas drew a deep breath. “Do you intend to see her again?”

Jacob squinted at the row of beachfront cottages, so perfectly New England with their white clapboard fronts, breezy porches and dark green storm shutters. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I need to see her just once more. Then I’ll stop obsessing about her, comparing other women to her. She couldn’t be as...” He struggled to put his thoughts into words. “I don’t know what she was any more. She’s just clogging up my mind with ridiculous thoughts!” He lashed out angrily, bringing his fist down violently on the brass rail in front of them. “She’s unfinished business, Thomas. That’s all she is. I’ll find her—she lives in Nanticoke. One more time, just to get her out of my blood.”

“You mean, you’ll have another affair with her?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Jacob snapped. “Then I’ll return to Elbia and decide what must be done.”

It hadn’t been the worst day of her life, but it hadn’t been the best, either.

When Allison Collins had left for work that morning, little Cray was running a fever and crying fretfully, clinging to her as she tried to escape through the front door. Her sister, Diane, had her hands full with her own three kids—trying to get two of them off to catch their bus for school, while dressing the third. Within a few minutes her three day-care children would arrive, and she’d have a full house again. Tending a sick fifteen-month-old baby wouldn’t make her day any easier.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t leave Cray with you when he’s like this,” Allison apologized.

“Don’t start on the guilt trips again,” Diane said. “He’s just going through a clingy stage. I’ll give him some Tempra and he’ll be fine ten minutes after you leave.”

“I don’t know, maybe I should take the day off and keep him at home.” That sounded so good. More days than not, it was what Allison wanted to do anyway. Every time she left Cray, she felt as if a vital part of her were being torn from her body. She missed being with him, but what was a single mom to do? She was lucky Diane had been willing to add him to her houseful of little ones at half her usual fee. Day care was so expensive, and a librarian’s salary in a matchbox town like Nanticoke didn’t go far.

Their parents had moved to Florida, when they’d retired five years earlier, leaving the beach house to Allison. She felt grateful for being able to stay there. She still had to pay taxes on the property and manage utilities, food, clothing, medical bills and other necessities. Somehow, she squeezed out the pennies and stayed out of debt—but just barely. She wouldn’t have minded all that much. It seemed a lot of families had to struggle to make ends meet, these days. But she never felt as if she had enough time for Cray, and that she did mind.

At least they had a roof over their heads, she reflected. And Cray was a healthy, normal baby. Perhaps that was why leaving him when he wasn’t feeling well was so difficult for her. He didn’t seem himself. She felt like a heartless witch for deserting him when he needed her.

Finally, she extricated herself from Cray’s chubby fingers and made a dash through the kitchen. Before the storm door slammed shut, she could hear his wails of protest. Biting down on her lower lip, she threw herself into her little compact car and fled.

Her morning story-time group of elementary school children was waiting for her in a circle on the carpet when she arrived. She snatched up the two books she’d prepared the previous day and read with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, still exhausted from being up most of the night with Cray.

After the children left, she switched to her other job—cataloging new contributions to the library’s collection of first editions. A few hours later, she covered for other staff members during their lunch breaks. Afternoons, following school dismissal, were always busy. The children’s corner often turned into an informal baby-sitting service when parents dropped off their kids and left to do errands. It was a practice the staff was trying to stop, since youngsters left unattended sometimes got out of hand and required supervision from staff members who should have been helping patrons locate books or research materials.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Allison was barely able to see through the dense cloud of fatigue that enclosed her.

“You look beat,” Miriam, one of the senior volunteers, remarked as Allison passed her at the checkout desk.