The Expectant Princess

“A call from the police came in less than an hour ago. They’re still trying to extricate the driver’s body from the car. Apparently the metal—at least what was left after the fire—was a mangled mess. And I’m sure they’re going slowly so as not to destroy any clues. Apparent or otherwise.”

Dominique sucked in a fearful breath. “What about my father? If the driver—”

Marcus lifted one hand to halt her tortured thoughts. “King Michael’s body has still not been found. The chief investigator believes he must have been tossed from the car, and from that point his body rolled down the cliff and into the sea. The next step is to bring in divers and search the waters just off the island.”

Dominique shuddered with imagined horror. “But wouldn’t the body have already washed up to the shoreline? The prevailing winds over the North Sea would push the tide toward us, not away.”

“That’s true, however—”

She darted a questioning frown at him. “But what? What are you not telling me?”

His gaze dropped to her slender fingers and the cup lightly clutched in their grasp. She was so soft and vulnerable. He wanted to shield her from the awful truth and the pain it was bound to bring her.

“Drink your coffee,” he suggested quietly.

Her frown deepened, drawing her delicate eyebrows together to create one thin slash above her eyes. “Don’t stall, Marcus. Tell me what else you’re thinking.”

His lips formed a grim line, then he sighed. “You don’t really want to think of all the hazards out in the sea.”

The stiffness went out of her shoulders and her whole upper body sagged forward with reluctant defeat.

“You mean sharks,” she said in a low, raw voice. “Well, you are right. A body wouldn’t last long once a scavenger found it. But Father might not have been dead. He might have been dazed and hurt.” Her tone suddenly took on a fresh burst of hope. “It’s possible he could have wandered off before anyone came upon the wreckage!”

Thoughtfully, Marcus rubbed a thumb along the slight cleft in his chin. “Possible. But not likely. Eventually he would have had to stagger onto someone. There isn’t a soul in this city who wouldn’t recognize King Michael and carry him to the hospital.”

Although the weather was sunny with only a gentle breeze to ruffle the earliest spring leaves, Dominique felt suddenly cold. Clutching the lapels of her robe tightly together, she said, “Unless he happened to stumble onto an enemy.”

Marcus stared at her in disbelief.

She asked, “Why are you looking at me like that? I realize Father was a beloved king, but one never knows about people anymore. There are some strange ones out there.”

Actually the same sort of thread had run through his own thoughts these past three days. But he’d not voiced it to anyone. Even the police. Not that they would have put any credence into his theory. He was a political adviser, not a detective. And anyway, it was a farfetched notion. Anyone who looked at the scene of the accident would think it incredible for anyone to survive.

“I’m sorry if I was staring, Dominique. Your thoughts just took me by surprise. I didn’t expect you to be thinking in such—sinister terms.”

With a shake of her head, she placed her cup back on its saucer. Her fingers trembled as she passed them over her forehead. “I’m not sure I’m thinking at all right now, Marcus. I keep telling myself I have to accept that my father is dead. But my heart refuses. I can’t let go of the hope that he still might be alive and out there somewhere—someplace where he can’t get back to us.”

Before Marcus realized what he was doing, he reached over and gathered her hand in his.

“You need to put this out of your mind as best you can, Dominique. Fretting about it won’t accomplish anything. And you’ve only just now come back home to the palace. Why don’t you see old friends and try to enjoy being with your family.”

The warm strength of his hand felt far too good. It was all she could do to keep from turning her palm upward and sliding her fingers intimately between his.

Oh my, you are a little fool, Dominique. You were supposed to have forgotten all about Marcus Kent. You were certain you had. But you come home and he gives you one kind look and you melt like sweet chocolate between warm lips.

Clearing her throat, she said, “I’m not going back to my studies anytime soon, Marcus. At least not until this thing with my father is cleared up.”

She couldn’t tell him that her father’s accident was only part of the reason she was delaying her return to university. He’d want a full explanation and she couldn’t give him one. The reason would come out all too soon anyway. And then he’d be looking at her with disgust. As no doubt her family would be, too.

Chapter Two

“Do you think that’s a wise decision? Not going back to the university right away?” Marcus asked.

A wan smile tilted Dominique’s lips. “I’ve been known to make unwise choices before. You know me, I never had the level head my sister Isabel possesses. Nor Nicholas’s intelligence. But even if this thing with father wasn’t happening, I need some time off. To rest.”

His smile held a hint of both censure and understanding. “I suppose you’ll get to that degree soon enough. And then you’ll be out in the world of high-powered business.”

Because the pleasure was becoming too great, she slid her hand from his and reached for her coffee. After a thoughtful sip, she said, “I’ve changed the direction of my degree sometime back. I’m going into the field of education.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh. I had the impression you wanted to be a financial adviser.”

She grimaced. “I’ve decided it’s more important for a person to acquire an education. Without that, they won’t need a financial adviser.” Shrugging, she self-consciously glanced away from him. “Eventually I would like to form an education center here in Old Stan-bury. For needy students who can’t afford to attend private schools or expensive universities.”

“That’s a lofty goal,” he said.

Yes, she thought. And to achieve such a project she was going to need the backing of her family and country. But once her secret was out, Dominique wasn’t sure she would receive either. She would probably be lucky if her family didn’t choose to disown her completely. While she’d been away at her studies, she’d not behaved as a princess representing her country. But, dear heaven, she was only human, she reasoned with herself. She was a young woman with needs just like thousands of other women in Edenbourg.

Her fidgeting fingers on the cup handle didn’t go unnoticed by Marcus. In fact, it amazed him that everything about her caught his attention.

In the open light of the fresh morning, her skin looked like rich cream and pale roses. Her brown hair was threaded with streaks of gold and sunlight. This morning the mass was unconfined, the waves tumbling about her face and shoulders like a wild waterfall.

Before Marcus realized where his thinking was headed, he was suddenly wondering what it would be like to run his hands through the thick brown tresses, to skim the pads of his fingers over the smooth skin of her face, her throat and down the shadowy cleavage between her breasts.

Dear Lord, he must be drunk from lack of sleep and too much work, he reasoned with himself. There was no other reason for him to be thinking such lustful thoughts about his king’s daughter. Especially now that King Michael was missing and presumed dead.

Across the table Dominique was feeling a bit disturbed by Marcus’s close scrutiny. It wasn’t like him to look at her so intensely. And though she knew it was a crazy notion, she wondered if the man was finally seeing her as a woman. Not as the teenager he used to know.

The whole idea heated Dominique’s cheeks and forced her to rise to her feet and put a measurable space between them.

Walking to the edge of the balcony, she leaned against the thick balustrade. From this high point, Old Stanbury, the capital city of Edenbourg, lay far below. Its network of winding narrow streets were nestled against green hillsides and lined with shops, boutiques and quaint cottages built centuries before the ravages of World War II had threatened this small island country.

Far to the west, between a break in the mountains, was a sparkling glimpse of blue-gray sea, while directly below were the palace grounds, where slopes of grassy lawns were dotted with huge shade trees and patterned with hedgerows. In another month, tea roses would be blooming thickly in the carefully tended gardens. A beautiful time for a wedding. But that part of Dominique’s dreams were over.

She was trying to fight off those bitter thoughts when Marcus came to stand beside her. With a rueful smile, she looked over at him.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m not very good company this morning.”

The smile he cast her was regretful. “I’m not here to be entertained, Dominique. In fact, I think I should be the one apologizing for starting your day out on such a bad note.”

She drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “No. Please don’t apologize. I want you to keep me abreast of what’s happening with the investigation.”

He nodded soberly. “Perhaps we’ll hear something soon.”

As she studied his somber face, it suddenly dawned on her that her father’s disappearance was bound to be tearing at him just as much as it was her. Marcus had spent many years serving his country and, most of all, his king. He had become her father’s right-hand man, a close friend and confidant to Michael Stanbury.

The need to comfort him overshadowed her intentions to remain distant. She reached for his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “I know you must be hurting over all this, too, Marcus. You love Father very much.”

“Yes,” he said flatly. “It’s not the same without him.”