Searching For Her Prince

Being held in his arms and feeling his strength, hers seemed to return. Looking up into very green, mesmerizing eyes, she insisted, “I’m fine. Please don’t call a doctor.”

“You’re so fine, you collapsed,” he noted wryly. His dark brown hair had a rakishly styled look. His charcoal suit sported a red-and-gray silk tie settled intimately against his gray silk shirt. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone more handsome.

“I didn’t have very much to eat today,” she hurried to tell him, not wanting to cause a fuss.

“Then we’re going to remedy that.” He was already moving with her in his arms. As he strode through the dining room past deep forest-green leather booths, black lacquered tables, and lithographs on the wall, Amira only quickly glimpsed it all.

“Put me down,” she murmured, totally embarrassed. “You can’t just carry me off.”

“I’m not abducting you. I’m taking you to a private dining room. Believe me, you’ll get something to eat a lot quicker in there than waiting your turn out front.”

“But…” she started. How could she explain about her very proper upbringing and the chaperone who usually accompanied her whenever she was with a man, even though she was twenty years old.

“No buts about it. I’ve got a porterhouse steak big enough for two on order. You can have my salad to get started. I’m sure there are rolls already on the table.”

The idea of immediately having food in front of her made her but a thing of the past. This chivalrous gentleman looked totally civilized. Since she’d landed in Chicago, her Penwyck world seemed very far away.

“Well?” he asked, not slowing down one wit. “Are you going to let me treat you to dinner?”

She’d always wanted an adventure. Instinctively she knew sharing dinner with this man could be that. Forgetting propriety for the moment, putting aside everything her mother, the queen’s lady-in-waiting, had taught her over the years, she gazed into his eyes and smiled. “Yes. I’ll let you treat me to dinner. Are all the men in Chicago as chivalrous as you?”

He gave her an irresistible smile. “Not even close.”

Captivated by the beauty of the young woman in his arms, Marcus Cordello could hardly keep his gaze from hers. Her eyes were a rare shade of violet, her hair golden-blond. It looked natural, and from the rich shade of her finely arched brows, he suspected it was. Her oval face was enhanced by the severity of her hair style and softened by her fluffy bangs. As he carried her to the supple green couch in his private dining room, he decided her skin was as flawless as the rest of her, though she did look a bit pale. That concerned him as much as her fainting had.

He asked a question he should have asked three years ago of another woman, a woman who had died because he hadn’t been observant…because he’d been too selfishly absorbed in the empire he’d been building. “Do you have a medical condition I should know about?” he asked huskily. “Are you sure I shouldn’t call a doctor?”

“No medical condition,” she assured him. “I’ve been a bit anxious the past few days and haven’t eaten properly. I only had two crackers and tea this morning.”

Gently he lowered her to the couch. “What could a beautiful young woman like you be anxious about?”

“It’s a long story,” she said with a sigh.

He could see she really was anxious about something, but a good meal would go a long way to making her feel better. “You’ll have plenty of time to tell me all about it over dinner.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I should…”

Just then a waiter came through the door bearing a huge tray. “Goodness, sir. I didn’t know you were having company for dinner.”

Marcus smiled. “I didn’t know I was having company, either, but I am.” He glanced at the tray. “That steak’s large enough to share, but I’d appreciate it if you could bring an extra helping of the garlic potatoes and the broccoli. More rolls, too.”

As the waiter arranged the food on the table, Marcus took the woman’s hand. “Are you still dizzy?”

“Not dizzy. Just a little…airy.”

He helped her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get some of that food into you. If you aren’t feeling better by the time we’re finished, I will call a doctor.”

Marcus seated the elegant young woman at the table and watched, amused, as she quickly cut her steak and ate half of it along with the potatoes and a roll. By then her cheeks had taken on a healthier pink tint, and he found himself intrigued by her as well as her accent. “Now about that long story you were going to tell me,” he reminded her after the waiter returned with the extra portions and exited again.

He saw her debate with herself. Then she delicately wiped her lips with her napkin and gave him a smile. “This is going to sound far-fetched and not something you Americans are at all used to.”

“I take it you’re not an American?” Her accent sounded English, yet not quite English.

“No, I’m not. This is my first trip here. I’m from Penwyck, an island off the coast of Wales.” She smiled shyly. “I’m Lady Amira Sierra Corbin. My mother is lady-in-waiting to the Queen of Penwyck.”

If Marcus hadn’t already been entranced by this young woman, he might have laughed out loud. She had to be pulling his leg.

His thoughts must have shown in the arch of his brows or the quirk of his mouth because she squared her shoulders and sat up straighter. “I suppose royalty isn’t something Americans understand very well.”

“You’re right about that. But I’m intrigued. Continue with your story.”

After a few moments hesitation, she leaned back in her chair and relaxed again. “As I said, my mother is lady-in-waiting to the queen. She would do anything for Queen Marissa and so would I. That’s why I’m here. Actually my mother might have come herself, but she’s on her honeymoon in the Greek Isles and this is a matter that had to be taken care of immediately.”

Marcus’s amusement faded because of the expression on Lady Amira’s face. She was completely serious. Either she was totally deluded or she did have a story to tell. “And what is this serious matter?”

“The queen sent me to meet with Marcus Cordello, the man who owns this hotel and goodness knows how many other businesses. I have something to tell him that could change his life. He might be a prince.”

Marcus practically choked on his steak. Finally he set down his fork and managed, “A prince?” How could he not know he might be a prince?

“It’s quite complicated. Everything has to do with twins. King Morgan is a twin, you see. But he’s taken ill and is in a coma. For now, his twin, Broderick, is running Penwyck. He’s always envied his brother, and he did something terrible that he just admitted recently. Long ago he conspired against King Morgan and Queen Marissa and switched the newborn royal twins for a set of American fraternal twins who were going to be adopted by a couple in Illinois. King Morgan and Queen Marissa raised them as their own. At least that’s what Broderick says. I’m here to speak to Marcus Cordello because he and his twin might be the true heirs to the throne!”

“You were right about the story sounding far-fetched.” Marcus tried to keep his tone even.

“Oh, it’s even more complicated than that. The queen found out about Broderick’s plans before he was able to execute them—at least that’s what she believes—and she thinks Dylan and Owen, the sons she raised, are truly the royal heirs. But she also knows that she and the king have been betrayed by enemies more than once, and her plan to foil Broderick might have gone awry. The head of the Royal Intelligence Institute is investigating all of it, but the bottom line is—Owen and Dylan, who have been raised to be the true heirs of Penwyck, might not be the true heirs. I need to speak with Mr. Cordello and convince him to tell me where his brother is. DNA tests could settle this whole matter.”

Shocked by Amira’s story—it sounded like an implausible plot from a soap opera—Marcus took a few moments to think about it while he continued eating. Was Miss Corbin truly acting as an emissary for a royal family? Or was this whole story some ploy to get to him and his money or connections? Was Lady Amira Sierra Corbin for real? And if she was…

The last thing in this world he wanted was to be a prince! He liked his life just the way it was. He didn’t want to be involved in some royal family’s intrigue. Besides, although he and his brother Shane were twins, they weren’t adopted. His parents might have had their problems, but they never would have kept something like that a secret.

He studied Amira once more. She was beautiful and entertaining, and he hadn’t been truly interested in a woman since Rhonda had died. Every time he looked at Amira, his whole body quickened. For the first time in a long while, he was interested in more than the Dow Jones Industrial Average or whether a company was ripe for a takeover. He wanted to check into this woman’s background, get to know her a little better, possibly even take her to bed. But he couldn’t do any of that if she knew he was Marcus Cordello.

“How long do you intend to stay in the United States?” he asked.

“Until I can meet with this man.” She bit her lower lip and said almost to herself, “I can’t fail the queen.” Meeting his gaze again, she went on, “Mr. Cordello’s secretary tells me he has meetings out of his office until this weekend and then he’ll be gone for a week. I might have to wait until he returns. I have to figure out if it’s worthwhile sitting outside his office door any longer, hoping I might catch him. I must think of a better way to get to him.”

After taking a sip of water, she set down her glass. “Thank you so much for sharing your dinner with me. I don’t even know your name.”

The wheels in Marcus’s head spun. When he was a boy away at school, he used his middle name, Brent, since there was another boy in his class named Marcus. “My name is Brent,” he responded now. Then choosing a last name from thin air, he added, “It’s Brent Carpenter.”

She held out her hand to him. “It’s good to meet you, Brent.”

When he enfolded her hand in his, it felt delicate and fragile. Yet he sensed a strength about Amira that intrigued him as much as everything else. The softness of her skin under his made his blood rush faster, and he told himself to slow down. He told himself this was a woman like none he’d ever met. He had the urge to bring her hand to his lips…to do much more than that.

Before he could analyze his attraction to her, the waiter came in, carrying two apple tarts topped with whipped cream. Amira pulled her gaze from his, glanced at the tart and smiled. “Oh, that looks good.”

He laughed.

The waiter left as unobtrusively as he’d come in and Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. The staff usually addressed him as “sir” and when he had a guest, they didn’t converse with him at all. But there was always a chance someone would call him by name. He found himself liking the idea of becoming Brent Carpenter more and more. He needed a vacation, not only from the city, but from who he was and what he did and everyone’s expectations of him. From now on when he was with Amira, he would think of himself as Brent.