Crowns & Courtships Compilation Volume 1

by Carol Moncado

  “A kayak?”

  Jordan turned to see Sofia walking down the last few steps to the sand. “I didn’t feel like wind surfing today.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could do some of the more adventurous things.” She sighed as she set her bag under the umbrella someone always placed there.

  “Why can’t you?”

  “My father would never allow it.”

  Jordan lowered himself to the blanket before leaning over to give her a quick kiss, one he wished could be longer. “You know, before I came here, my sister, my best friend, and I stayed in this little town in Missouri for a week or so. Somehow, we ended up next door to this guy from Europe and his wife.”

  He glanced up to see her raise a brow his direction.

  “I’m getting there,” he protested. “Turns out, this guy is Prince Richard of Montevaro. An actual prince. Like Your Royal Highness. His wife, Princess Ellie, was with him. I told you they came to my sister’s wedding, didn’t I?”

  She nodded.

  “This guy does all kinds of stuff. Hiking in the Andes. Everest Base Camp, though he’s never climbed the mountain. Dog sledding across Greenland. You name the extreme sport, he’s tried it. And he’s been either first or second in line for the throne his whole life. My sister says he’s always been that way.”

  “Your sister?”

  Jordan picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. “Yeah. She’s something of a royal watcher. Nothing creepy, just follows Facebook pages and stuff. They fascinate her. I can tell you about the Windsors, but that’s only because I’m Canadian.” He shrugged. “I know a little bit more, because I spent several hours with Prince Richard and his wife over the course of a few days, and because my sister blathers on all the time.”

  “I see.”

  He sat up. “My point is that if the heir to a European monarchy can do all this stuff, why can’t you do stuff that’s not nearly as dangerous?” Jordan pointed to the cove. “I’ve not seen the waves big enough to surf here, but you could paddleboard or kayak, or if you leave the cove even a little bit, windsurf. Jet ski. Any of that stuff. With a big enough storm off-shore, you could probably body surf.”

  Sofia just stared at the ocean. “Perhaps.”

  The conversation was clearly over. For all the time they’d spent together, there were certain things Sofia didn’t discuss. Her personal life was one of those things. Oh, she shared stories of attending a private, all girls boarding school as a child, mentioned that she didn’t want to send her children to boarding school someday, talked about her first boyfriend after she started co-ed school as a tween, but never anything truly personal.

  She did tell him she’d been in love once. She clearly still loved the guy, whoever it was, and it pained her to talk about him, even though she never mentioned his name.

  “Is kayaking hard?” Astrid stared at the water.

  “Not particularly. You learn your own best stroke and pace, but otherwise it’s mostly about endurance.”

  “I would like to try.”

  “Sure.” Jordan pushed to his feet and held out a hand to help her up.

  Once standing, she shed her cover-up. “I don’t suppose a long dress is best for kayaking.”

  Jordan grinned. “I’ve never tried it, but I’d imagine not.” As much as he wanted to, he didn’t let his eyes linger places they hadn’t been invited to go. He knew her figure would be the envy of women and the object of men’s admiration and fixation - even desire - but he didn’t want to be one of those men. He didn’t want to objectify her.

  Unless he was mistaken, she already had plenty of that.

  He moved the kayak to the water and turned to Sofia. “You don’t just climb in.” After demonstrating proper technique, he climbed back out. “I know it seems ridiculous, but it’s important to learn how to do it properly.”

  Sofia saluted smartly. “Yes, sir.”

  Jordan lifted an eyebrow. “I know this is kayaking in your cove and nothing more dangerous, but learning to do something right from the beginning is far easier than having to relearn it later.”

  “I know.” She took the paddle from him and positioned it across the back of the kayak, just behind the cockpit. “Like this?”

  “Like that.” Knee deep in the water, he held it steady for her as she carefully climbed in. Once she was situated, he pulled her out a bit farther until the water reached his waist.

  Standing next to her as the waves - ones that barely deserved the name - rolled in, he explained the paddle. He reached around until she was trapped between his arms as he showed her the proper way to hold it and which side was up.

  “You’re right handed?” he asked. He’d never seen her write anything, but she did occasionally wear a watch on her left wrist.

  She nodded, the hair in her ponytail brushing against his cheek. He wanted to turn, to press a kiss into that hollow between her neck and shoulder. Though he wasn’t as innocent as his mother probably wished, he’d never kissed a woman there before, but he’d seen both his father and his new brother-in-law do so. He knew what kind of relationship that signified.

  Sofia turned her head, looking up at him and breaking the spell, just a bit.

  It signified the kind of relationship he’d never be able to have with this woman. No matter what he wished, this would never be more than an innocent summer romance.

  A week later, Astrid was getting far better at kayaking and paddleboarding, but she managed to knock Jordan in the head with her oar.

  “Are you all right?” she gasped as he collapsed into the waist high water.

  “I think I’ll live.” His grin, the one she loved, came easily to his face. “My scars have got scars far worse than that will leave.”

  She fingered her hairline, almost without realizing it. “You have scars?”

  He snorted. “I’ve got more scars than anyone you know.” A minute later, they were back on shore.

  Jordan twisted his elbow around to show her a thin line about four inches long. “This one is dumb. My best friend had this old car. Like a 1980s Datsun or something, but it was cheap, and he could afford it. The front of the glove box was missing but there were still screws sticking out of it with a bit of plastic still on them. I scraped it on one of those when I was getting out of the car once.”

  Astrid just shook her head. “I cannot imagine how painful your life has been. To have so many scars.”

  “And you don’t have any?” he challenged.

  She hesitated, then answered truthfully. “Just one, that I know of.” She brushed the hair back off her forehead with one hand and ran her finger along the scar with the other.

  Jordan snorted in response. “That’s barely a scratch.”

  “It bled profusely. It’s more than a scratch.” Plus the loss it represented. That hurt far worse. “It was the worst day of my life.” Would he ask to know more?

  Would she tell him?

  He lifted the side of his shirt, and pointed to another thin line on his side. She’d never seen so much of his torso. “Hockey skate.” Then he pointed to a smaller scar on his abdomen. “Same hockey skate, different pick-up game with no adult supervision. I got that one first and a huge lecture from Mom about only playing hockey with protective gear. After the one on my side, I was grounded until they took up the ice and there was no hockey for months.” He moaned. “My Bantam team took our Zones without me that season. And Mom lectured me daily about gear for a year. She was convinced I wouldn’t make it out of TimBits alive.”

  Astrid didn’t understand half of what he said, but understood his meaning. That one wasn’t what held her attention. Astrid reached out and ran her finger down the two inches of exposed scar right in the center of his chest. It was thicker, more pronounced than any of the others he’d shown her, though not overly so. What made it different? “What’s this one?” she finally asked.

  Jordan did something she’d never seen him do.

  Hesitate.

  “I don
’t like to talk about that one. It happened the last time I was in San Majoria, just over two years ago.”

  Astrid couldn’t explain why, but she couldn’t stop running her finger up and down the little bit of it she could see. “I’m sorry my country left you with such a wound. What did we do to give you such a scar?”

  He stepped back and stripped his shirt off completely. She saw it - and his chest - for the first time. Starting just under his clavicle, it was about ten inches long. Astrid reached out and ran her forefinger down the entire scar.

  Jordan didn’t flinch under her scrutiny. “It’s my second chance at life scar. It wasn’t anything San Majoria did. In fact, San Majoria saved my life.”

  “How so?” It didn’t bother her to be touching another man’s chest like this. The still coherent part of Astrid’s brain knew it should, but it didn’t.

  He captured her hand and held it to his chest. She could feel his heart beating under her palm. “Nope. Not until you tell me how that little scratch was the worst day of your life? Daddy’s little princess didn’t like the blood in her hair?” His teasing tone let her know everything she needed to. He still didn’t know who she was. And he still thought she was a spoiled snob, that she’d never known real pain.

  “It was a car accident, just over two years ago, like yours,” she told him, her eyes steadfastly focused on their two hands intertwined.

  “And you walked away with just that little scratch? I’d say that was a pretty good day.”

  “We were on our way home from a charity gala. I was wearing a sea foam green chiffon dress.”

  “I don’t even know what chiffon is.” His tone had softened to match hers. “I do know sea foam, though.”

  “A car ran a red light.” She was transported back. To the police escort. To the dark. To the screech of tires. The crunch of metal. The wet, sticky of blood.

  The screaming.

  Her own screams she barely recognized as she knelt over Andrei’s unmoving body.

  “He was on the side of the car with the impact. He’d insisted I sit against the other door and not in the middle next to him because the seatbelt wasn’t working properly.”

  Jordan didn’t say anything.

  The smell of blood and antiseptic. The sounds of sirens. Of yelling. The vision of his still body on the gurney being loaded into the helicopter.

  “There was nothing they could do. His body lived on for a short time, but he was brain dead at impact. Machines kept him alive until…” Astrid stopped. She wasn’t ready to share with Jordan, the gut-wrenching decision she’d made.

  “I was windsurfing.” He seemed to know she wasn’t ready to go on. To tell him the rest. “We’d come to San Majoria for spring break. Surf. Sand. Sun. Pretty girls. But I didn’t feel right. I couldn’t breathe very well and just felt off, so my buddies took me to Cabo Juan-Eduardo General Hospital. I didn’t leave for nearly three months. My heart was failing. I needed machines until a donor heart could be found. I wasn’t stable enough to return to Canada, so I waited here. This scar represents my second chance, but I’ll never forget it also represents someone else’s loss.”

  They stood there for an interminable period of time before Jordan spoke again. “Who was he? Who was in the car with you? Your father? Your brother?”

  She stared at their hands, resting against his surprisingly sun-bronzed chest. The lighter scar ran beneath their hands and reappeared below them. His tanned hand resting on top of her naturally light one. “No. He was my heart. The love of my life. We’d been married eighteen months.”

  His hand squeezed hers. “I’m so sorry, Sofia. I can’t imagine the loss.”

  “He was an organ donor. Even though I knew it was the right thing to do, what he wanted, the decision was the most difficult I’ve ever made.”

  Jordan reached out with his other hand and tilted her chin until their eyes met. “On behalf of those who received his gift, your gift, thank you.” He grinned, breaking the somber mood. “Remember the movie Return to Me?”

  She shook her head.

  “My sister made me watch it when I finally got home. It’s about this guy whose wife dies in a car accident. He donates her organs. A year or so later, he falls in love with this girl. But before she can tell him something important, she finds the letter she wrote to the family of her donor heart. She had his late wife’s heart. They argue and split up for a while, but eventually, they live happily ever after.”

  Astrid smiled, weak. “I could not do that. I could not marry a man who carried part of my soul, part of Andrei. I will have to remarry someday, but that would be asking too much.”

  Jordan moved back and pulled his shirt on before wrapping his arms around her waist. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t have Andrei’s heart, isn’t it?”

  And he kissed her.

  5

  Ten in the morning, but the umbrella was already set up on the beach along with a blanket. For the first time, Sofia had asked him to join her in the morning instead of early afternoon.

  Jordan wasn’t about to complain. He liked spending time with her.

  While he waited, he pulled his shirt off. The tan was close enough to even he wouldn't blind her like he would have when he first arrived in San Majoria, and the sun wasn’t quite high enough for him to be too worried about sunscreen just yet. He hadn’t even thought about his tan when he pulled his shirt off the day before. When Sofia arrived, he’d have her help him put sunscreen on. The thought made him grin the way the girl a couple weeks ago hadn’t.

  With the sun warming his skin, he closed his eyes until a shadow crossed over his face.

  “You’re in my sun. Ruining my tan.” Jordan didn't try to hide his smile.

  “There’s someone I want you to meet.” Sofia sounded nervous.

  Jordan opened his eyes to see her standing a few feet away.

  In her arms, she held a little girl with curly brown hair.

  He sat up and rolled to his side until he could stand. “Who’s this?” Her niece? Little sister?

  “My daughter.”

  Or that. He struggled to keep his surprise under control.

  Jordan held out his hand for the little girl to give him five. “Hi. What’s your name?”

  “This is Sofia.”

  Little Sofia just stared at his hand. Jordan brushed the back of his knuckle against the soft skin of her forearm. “Hello, Sofia.”

  “She’s pretty shy around new people.”

  He grinned, hiding the terror he felt inside. “Then we’ll have to get to the point where I’m old people.”

  Before he knew what changed, Little Sofia leaned away from her mother and reached for Jordan. He reached out and took her from Grown-up Sofia. Little Sofia wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, all while not saying a word.

  Jordan leaned his head against the little girl’s. “Guess I’m old people already?”

  Grown-up Sofia tilted her head. “She’s never done that with anyone before. Usually it takes several meetings and quite a bit of time before she’ll let someone hold her.”

  “She must know how crazy I am about her mother.” Jordan leaned over and kissed Grown-up Sofia.

  “Maybe that’s it.” Grown-up Sofia brushed Little Sofia’s hair off her forehead. “Or maybe she knows her mother is crazy about you.”

  “I’ll take it, whichever way it goes.”

  For the next hour, the three of them played on the beach. Jordan helped Little Sofia build a sand castle - or at least a series of bucket towers.

  Clouds were starting to roll in when Grown-up Sofia told Little Sofia it was time for her to go back to the house. Grown-up Sofia carried Little Sofia up the walk and reappeared a few minutes later, just as the first sprinkles started.

  It didn’t bother Jordan, but he wasn’t sure about the more refined Sofia.

  “I don’t mind a little drizzle. We’ve got an umbrella,” she told him.

  Jordan eyed the sky. “I’m afraid
it’s going to be more than just a little drizzle.” He picked up a handful of sand and let it trickle back down to the beach. “So that answered a couple of my questions.”

  “What did?”

  “Little Sofia. She’s your favorite view and why we always meet for a couple hours in the afternoon. It’s during nap time.”

  The drizzle turned heavier. “I’d forgotten you asked what my favorite view was, but yes.” Sofia sat up. “Come on. You’re right about the rain.”

  Jordan grabbed the blanket and closed the umbrella, tucking both under his arm as he followed her up the beach to the sidewalk. It didn’t really surprise him, when she took an offshoot from the main path. She wouldn’t take him to the house. Not when she didn't trust him with her name.

  A minute later, they came to a gazebo. “This looks almost like the one from Sound of Music,” he told her. “I feel like we should break out in song.”

  Sofia smiled at him. “No singing here.”

  “Not your thing?”

  “Not particularly.”

  A wrought iron table sat in the middle of the gazebo. Jordan laid the blanket and umbrella on the bench connected to the wall around the interior.

  Sofia opened a basket already sitting on the table. “Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  She smirked. “If you’re anything like my brothers, you can always eat.”

  Jordan managed not to show his surprise. A piece of personal information? “How many brothers do you have?”

  She didn’t look at him, but began to empty the basket. “Two. And two sisters. I’m the oldest of five.”

  “I’m the oldest of two.”

  “Your sister who married your best friend.”

  “Exactly. Any of your brothers marry your best friend?”

  “No. None of them are married, or even dating. My father wishes we would all find someone to settle down with soon, though.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Don’t all parents want their children happy? They want us to find true love and begin our lives together.”