The Prince's Heir

“You’re late,” she snapped, irritated at herself, and taking it out on him. Why not? He was the cause of her problems, wasn’t he?

He glanced at his gold watch then arched a dark eyebrow. “One minute.”

“Oh. Well.” She shifted her shoulder bag.

“Would you join me in a cup of tea? As I mentioned, the restaurant is quite nice.”

“Yes, thank you. That would be...nice.”

He extended one hand in the direction she should go, then placed the other in the vicinity of her waist, almost but not quite touching. She sucked in a quick breath. He might as well be touching her. She could feel the pulsating, vibrant heat from his hand through her cotton dress, and it was all she could do to refrain from letting that heat pull her to him, to lean slightly backward and feel his hand on her body.

She was being ridiculous again, letting her hormones control her brain, take over her imagination.

She walked faster, marching past the huge columns and into the restaurant that would have made Julius Caesar and his cronies feel right at home. A glass wall on one side looked onto a pool surrounded by lush vegetation. Quite nice was a gross understatement

Mandy experienced a single, quick stab of anxiety that she was completely out of her element, in over her head. Without any overt effort, this man compelled her. He was a prince, born to rule. He had money and power. He was right at home in luxurious surroundings like this hotel. He was dangerous.

She sank into the chair the waiter held for her and gave herself a mental slap. She couldn’t afford to lose her perspective. This man had money and power, but she had family and love. He was in over his head.

She started to order a glass of iced tea, then changed it to a cup of hot, the same as Stephan requested.

“Hot sounds good,” she said after the waiter left. “It’s chilly in here.” She rubbed the goose bumps that covered her bare arms. The sleeveless summer dress she’d worn to church was not adequate for the frigid air of the hotel. Stephan, of course, wore a dark suit, white, long-sleeved shirt and a tie, just as he had the day before and probably the day before that. Maybe he even slept in them.

No....

Sitting across from him, surrounded by pompous elegance, she was again struck by the intense savagery that seemed to lie just beneath his cultured veneer. With a clarity she didn’t want, she knew this man slept in the nude.

She folded her hands on the white tablecloth, shoved aside that image and prepared to launch into battle. “Well, Mr. Reynard, or should I call you Your Highness or maybe just Prince?” She bit back a nervous giggle at that thought. Yo, Prince! Sit, Prince! Stay, Prince! Good boy!

He smiled. “Prince? The name you reserve for your dog? I’m flattered. But I insist you call me Stephan. Your country isn’t as formal as mine.”

“Oh, are we playing by my country’s rules?”

“I think that’s appropriate considering we’re in your country.”

“Good. My country doesn’t recognize royalty. Josh was born in this country, to an American citizen. That means he’s an American, and by our rules, he can’t be a prince. That should settle our differences.”

He smiled again and inclined his head in a slight bow. “Touchе. Legally speaking, I’m sure you’re correct. Nevertheless, Lawrence’s son is the heir to the throne of my country.”

“So? You never did answer my question. What do you want? Do you think I’m going to just turn him over to you, let you take my son...and he is my son under the laws of my country...let you take him thousands of miles away, raise him in a style his biological father hated? Ruin his life?”

“When I first scheduled this trip over here,” he said, his voice quiet and noncommittal, “I had planned to return with Lawrence’s son—”

“Stop calling him that,” she interrupted. “He’s not just your brother’s son. He’s a person. He has a name. Joshua.”

“Of course,” he acceded. “I had planned to return with Joshua so that he could be raised in the palace and trained for the duties he will one day undertake.”

“Your mom and dad anxious to meet their grandson, are they?” she asked sarcastically.

He stared at her blankly for a moment, his expression confused as if he were trying to comprehend a question couched in a foreign language, then a flash of something else swept across his features. He blinked and it was gone, but just for an instant Mandy could have sworn she glimpsed sadness in his winter eyes. “Of course the king and queen are anxious to meet Lawrence’s—to meet Joshua.”

“They don’t want to meet Joshua. They want to meet the heir. That’s all he is to any of you. Alena told me how Lawrence was raised. One nanny after another, practically having to request an audience to see his parents. How can you want to do that to a little boy?”

“He’s a prince. He has obligations and duties to his people.”

The waiter returned with their teas, and Mandy busied herself adding sugar and lemon, trying to keep her fingers from trembling visibly. She wasn’t going to get anywhere in a head-to-head battle with this man. All she was doing was letting her anger and fear spoil her judgment. She had to be as cool as he was, fight him at his own game...and win. For Joshua’s sake, she had to win.

“This is a beautiful hotel,” she said, searching for a neutral subject to give her a chance to regain her equilibrium. “Is it similar to the hotels in your country?”

Stephan looked around him. “The service, yes. But we are a small country and very steeped in tradition. Even our renovated hotels are about a hundred years behind yours. That was why the king sent Lawrence to America, so he could bring back progressive ideas. We’re badly in need of change.” He smiled wryly. “As the world heads into the twenty-first century, we’ve barely entered the twentieth.”

She didn’t miss the fact that he had, for the second time, referred to his father only as “the king.” After what Alena had told her about Lawrence’s childhood, she wasn’t surprised. Perhaps Stephan was more like his brother than he’d first appeared. Perhaps the fact that he had no real family had occasioned that brief glimpse of sadness she’d seen earlier when she’d mentioned his parents.

“So Lawrence came to America to study progress, and you went to Europe to study history.”

He nodded and sipped his tea.

“Don’t you have a sister? Alena mentioned a sister.

His taut features seemed to relax infinitesimally, and his long fingers curled around the small cup. He had a soft spot beneath that rigid exterior after all. “Yes, I have a younger sister, Schahara”

“And where did she go for her studies?”

“She’s a woman. The queen taught her all she needs to know at home.”

Mandy set her cup on the table so hard a bit of tea sloshed out onto the immaculate white linen. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled. “I told you we needed to learn about progress. In defiance of tradition, my sister has traveled extensively all around the world on her own accord. She’s really the one with the ideas on how to bring about the progress we so desperately need. She’s already computerized the household records and constantly monitors world happenings by using the Internee.”

“You have computers in your country? Computers aren’t nineteenth century.”

He laughed then, a delicious, low sound that traveled from her ears through her body like a curling, rhythmic wave. “We’re not completely primitive. We have electricity and indoor plumbing and even computers, though only the wealthy can afford the luxuries like televisions and computers, and many of our people still live without most or any of the modern conveniences.”

“That’s part of the changes you want to make?”

“A big part. As I said, Schahara has many plans already mapped out. The king wants to maintain the status quo and doesn’t give much heed to her ideas. However, she will be an excellent adviser to the present king’s successor.”

“And who will that be if Joshua doesn’t...um—”

“If he doesn’t return to Castile? Then I’ll succeed to the throne.”

That was the first encouraging bit of news she’d heard since yesterday. “Well, so, wouldn’t you like to be king?”

“It’s not a question of whether I’d like to be the king. It’s a question of who is the rightful heir to the throne.”

“But you would like to be king.”

“I neither like nor dislike the idea. It’s a duty. If I have to perform it, I will, of course. But Lawrence’s son is—”