The Royal & The Runaway Bride (Dynasties: The Connellys Book 7)

by Kathryn Jensen

  He smiled, pleased he’d been able to once more delay her restlessness.

  “Wait here. I’ll go get the tea.”

  When he returned, she had rearranged her thin white cotton robe worn over a sea-green bikini to bare her long legs. He drew a sharp breath at the tug in his loins. She was stunning—the contrast between her pale ivory skin and her cropped, black hair. Her emerald eyes flashed up at him. He gulped. Unable to say what was really on his mind, he blurted out, “Sunscreen. I forgot the sunscreen.”

  She shook her head at him. “Stop fussing over me. I’m fine.”

  She was a darn sight more than just fine, Phillip thought when he returned, drew up a chair beside hers, and watched her smooth lotion from her toes, over her ankles, then up her calves, thighs and hips. Lust curled up hot and ready inside of him. He didn’t think he could risk staying with her any longer.

  “If you’re comfy now,” he said, coughing to clear his suddenly tight throat, “I have some business I should attend to.”

  “You can’t stay and keep me company?” she asked.

  “If you want someone to talk to, I can send to the castle for someone.”

  “Most of the guests would have left by now,” she said. “Besides, I don’t like them.”

  “Any of them?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t like rich people.”

  He laughed. “I’m not exactly a pauper, woman, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “You’re different,” she said, smoothing another dollop of lotion across the flat of her stomach, then circling her fingertips around her belly button. He followed the sensuous motion of her fingers with fascination. “You don’t put on airs and spend money for the thrill of it.”

  “How do you know so much about me?”

  “I’m good at figuring out people.” With one tragic exception, she thought, then chased that sad part of her life from her mind. Robert was no longer a concern. She had put him out of her life. “It’s sort of a hobby of mine, studying people and, sometimes, pretending to be like them.”

  She tipped her head to one side and observed him, wondering if he’d take her hint. After all, sooner or later she’d have to tell him who she really was.

  “Why is that?” Phillip asked.

  “Whenever life gets boring you just step into someone else’s shoes.”

  “I suspect it might be more than that,” he said thoughtfully. “Some people experiment with different roles because they’re trying to find out who they really are.”

  She laughed, gave her head a shake and sipped her tea. Then she stared at him long and hard. “You think so?”

  “Could be in your case. Maybe being a horse trainer isn’t what you’d most like to be.”

  “But I love horses,” she objected, clinging to her role out of sheer stubbornness.

  “And you were doing great with Eros. But that doesn’t mean your heart doesn’t yearn for something more than coddling wealthy folks’ pets.” She pouted at him, and he wished he could figure out what she was thinking at that moment. He suspected she was more than a little embarrassed by having taken the fall. “Never mind. Eros is a troubled spirit. If he hadn’t wanted you on him, he would have lost you long before that jump, despite all your experience.”

  She considered that for a moment and felt a happy little thrill inside of her. She had done well, hadn’t she? Alex put down her teacup. “Do you know what I want more than anything?”

  “A blueberry scone instead of the raisin?”

  She waved him off. “No, silly. I mean, what I really, really want in life.”

  “Oh, now we’re into the heavy stuff.” He shook his head, mocking her, and sat back down on the edge of her chaise to listen.

  “I’m serious.” She straightened up, seized his hand and brought it into her lap. At once, he was conscious of the warmth of her flesh beneath the thin robe. “I want to be someone who makes a difference. I want to do something special and important with my life.”

  “I’d say you have every opportunity to do that,” he commented. “Just choose. There are plenty of charities out there.”

  “No!” she shouted, startling him with the emotion and strength in her voice. “That’s just it. I don’t want to chair committees or sponsor fund-raisers like rich women. I want to do things, not oversee others as they do them.”

  He nodded. The urge was all too familiar. Hadn’t he felt restless, hemmed in by his estate and people’s expectations of him? He didn’t have to work to keep a roof over his head. He could travel anywhere he pleased. Yet he felt discontent.

  “Do you know where Silverdorn is?” he asked her suddenly.

  “You mean, your kingdom, Prince?” She shook her head.

  “It no longer exists. At one time it was a small region on the border between France and Italy, a much-contested territory. My family lost it to other monarchs centuries ago, but we have retained our titles as tradition allows.”

  She giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded, offended that his family’s plight seemed humorous to her.

  “You’re…homeless?”

  He smiled slowly. “Not homeless…but country-less, yes. That does sound ridiculous, doesn’t it? Someone with as much wealth and property to be without a country.”

  She was laughing harder now. “The homeless prince. Oh, oh God— Ouch!”

  “Hurts, huh? Serves you right for making fun of the less fortunate,” he teased.

  She cradled her aching shoulder with her good arm. “Cut it out. You’ll make me laugh harder.”

  Tears formed in her pretty eyes, and Phillip perversely felt like doing something to make them shine even more. He reached out, making tickling motions with his fingers as he neared her stomach, and her eyes widened in panic.

  “Don’t you dare! No fair torturing the wounded.”

  “I think you’re far less wounded than you pretend,” he accused. “In fact, you’re so used to acting out roles, you probably don’t know who you really are.”

  The look on her face stunned him to silence. Her laughter immediately ceased. Pushing herself up off the chaise with a flinch of pain, she walked away from him down the terrace steps toward the water.

  “Alex, what did I say?” he called after her. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  She tugged her robe closer around her body and moved stiffly down the steps as he chased after her. “Just leave me alone.”

  “No. Obviously I’ve hit on a sore spot. I’m sorry. I really am. Tell me why what I said offended you.”

  She shook her head and kept on walking. He caught up to her with no trouble, as she was slowed down by her shoulder.

  “Alex?” He stepped in front of her. There were tears again, but not happy ones. Her face was contorted in a secret agony. He carefully enfolded her in his arms, taking care not to put pressure on her injured shoulder. “Tell me. I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”

  She drew a shuddering breath and rested her cheek against his chest. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I don’t know who I am. Not really.”

  “But that was just a joke. You’re an excellent trainer, I’m sure. You just had a bad day. Besides, you’re too intelligent a woman not to know who you are.”

  She looked up at him, green fire in her eyes. “Do you, Phillip? Do you know who you are?

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” He was suddenly aware of the heat of her body, of the luscious curves, hollows and soft swells that were her breasts and hips. She was tucked into his body, and the scant clothing she wore seemed inconsequential protection. He was aroused.

  Rotten timing, Kinrowan, he thought ruefully.

  “You are a prince by title, without a kingdom. How else would you define yourself?” she demanded.

  He didn’t know. “Well, I’m a man who loves horses and competes by jumping them. And I’ve always been fascinated by sailing and I have several boats.”

  “I’m not talking about things you own
,” she said sharply. “I’m talking about who you are, deep in your soul.”

  He was at a loss. What was she talking about?

  She pulled away from him to pace the path between the grand house and the intoxicatingly blue ocean. “All right. I’ll give you an example. Say there’s this young woman who has been raised in a wealthy family. All of her life, she’s had everything she ever wanted. Money was no object. All of her friends were rich, too. Because that’s the way people are. They group themselves by financial status, always wanting to be with their own kind, never wanting to associate with anyone with less in their bank accounts or who go to less prestigious schools.”

  He wasn’t sure who she was talking about, but he didn’t interrupt her to ask.

  “And this young woman wants more than anything to be special, not because of her father’s money, but because of something she herself can do or be. Something that’s her very own and from her heart. Only she can’t be special because she doesn’t know what that something is.” Her voice was so tight, he feared it might snap like a fragile crystal goblet.

  She blinked up at him. “Or maybe she’s just someone who works in stables, but she still wants to be special. Then she thinks she finds it when she falls in love. And she begins to believe that she will be happy with the man she’s chosen, and they will have children together and live as anyone else in love does, regardless of how much or how little money they have. Because their love will transport them above the crudeness of the financial and social worlds they’ve been stuck in all of their lives.” She went dead silent, so suddenly it took him by surprise.

  “That’s a lovely dream,” he said quietly, not knowing what else to say. That last bit, he realized, she’d been talking about herself. “And does she find happiness with her true love?”

  “She does, for a while. In fact, she follows the dream perfectly—choosing her bridesmaids, selecting a beautiful gown, ordering the cake and designing a lovely summer wedding on the lakeside. She is in heaven, or so she thinks, and then…” Her voice trailed off and tears flowed down her cheeks. Phillip ached to hold her again, but he sensed she wouldn’t allow him to comfort her.

  “And then,” he guessed, “the creep did something unspeakably horrible to spoil her dream.”

  “The creep did indeed.” She angrily dashed the tears away with the heel of her hand. “I—she heard him talking to her maid of honor. Flirting. Bragging, really. He’d had too much to drink after the rehearsal party and he told the bride’s best friend that he was, in effect, marrying her for her—for her connection with the Connellys.”

  “I see.” He felt her pain as his own. The story was too close to his experience with marriage. He didn’t want to hear the rest, but there was no stopping Alex. She dropped the pretense of disguising the bride as if she were someone other than herself.

  “Of course, when I confronted him, he just laughed off my anger. He claimed he was just trying to shock Jessy. It was all a game, or so he said.”

  “But you knew it was true,” he put in.

  “Yes, it was all very clear suddenly. There were things he’d said and done while we were dating that I’d chosen to ignore or forgive. Suddenly they all made sense. He had even gone so far as to put off our honeymoon so that he could complete a project he was working on for Grant Connelly.”

  “I can’t imagine any man not wanting to honeymoon with you, Alex,” he murmured, then bit his lip. Where had that come from?

  She didn’t seem to have heard him. “There were other things. I knew he’d been using me, and I could see our future. I’d be just like so many of my girlfriends who married for what they thought was love, only to find they were assets. I couldn’t bear to be used that way.”

  “So you walked out on him.”

  “Yes. I did.” She looked down at her folded hands, her eyes dry now. “That phone message from several days ago. It was from him. From Robert.”

  He could feel how difficult it was for her to even mention his name. “He wants to reconcile?”

  She nodded. “Predictable. He’s not one to give up easily.”

  “How has your family taken all of this?”

  She shrugged. “They want me to be happy. The thing is, I haven’t told them yet what my reasons were for walking out on the wedding. When and if I do, I know they’ll support my decision.”

  Phillip reached out, touched her arm, and she didn’t draw away. “We have a lot in common.”

  She looked at him sideways then let a strained smile lift her lips. “You left your bride at the altar?”

  “Would that had been the case,” he said bitterly. “Come.” He took her hand. “Let’s walk.”

  He led her down the stone path to the beach, white sand and shells. She was barefoot. He kicked off his sandals and they walked in the water’s edge until he found the words he’d never spoken to another person. They seemed necessary now, since she’d shared so much of herself with him.

  “My wife was a very beautiful woman. She was the sort of woman who walked into a room and every male head turned. Blond, a figure like a goddess, a taste for clothes that was flawless. She was clever and flattering and knew how to please a man.”

  She was listening intently to him as he continued.

  “I was beyond proud when she agreed to marry me. I believed we would make the most amazing couple. Forever. You see, I’m a traditionalist at heart. I believe marriage should happen once in a lifetime, if it’s done right. And that’s the only way I wanted to do it—right.”

  Alex stopped walking and faced him, her eyes bright. “Yes. That’s how it should be. So what spoiled it for you?”

  “Almost a year after our wedding, I suggested we start planning a family. She didn’t say no, but she put off further discussion, making excuses. Then, when I suggested we take a month-long cruise, just the two of us since we had so little time together because of our social obligations, she said she couldn’t do it.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t remember. There were so many excuses that involved her hobbies, her clubs, her friends. I realized that the real problem was we’d never been alone together for more than a few hours at a time. There was always a party or a Grand Prix or an invitation from friends. We’d never really gotten to know each other.”

  “But that was the way she liked it,” Alex whispered.

  He was amazed by her insight. “Yes, I’m convinced of that now. She liked sex well enough, but she didn’t want the true intimacy of marriage—the melding of souls. She liked the lifestyle, having unlimited money to spend, always having a party or a tea to rush off to.”

  “It was what she was used to.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “She hadn’t come from money. In fact, I later did some investigating and found out she had been a secretary to a CEO of an international firm. There’d been a scandal when his wife discovered their affair, and Tanya had been dismissed, but not without a beautiful condo on Corsica and a bank account to see her through a year or more. After that she’d been the mistress of a sheik, had an affair with a Texas oilman, and lived with a famous actor twice her age.”

  “And every time she ended the relationship in better shape than she’d entered it,” Alex guessed. “Trading up.”

  “It seemed. But apparently what she really wanted was marriage and a long-term guarantee of the lifestyle she’d come to love. That’s where I came in.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex murmured. If she had felt betrayed and used, here was a man who had suffered at least as much.

  “Believe me,” he said as if reading her thoughts, “you’re far better off to have learned the truth before the vows.”

  “She took you for a ton of alimony?”

  “More than that. Far, far more.” His eyes were incredibly sad. The lines around his mouth were drawn tightly, in defense against an overwhelming wave of emotion that she could see he was struggling against.

  Alex looked up at him, feeling a compassion that came from shared t
ragedy. No one had died, but a part of each of them had perished at the hands of people who had seen their wealth and status as a prize. She knew too well how disappointing it was to learn the person you loved and trusted with your future cared nothing for you, only for what you owned and could give them.

  Impulsively, she raised up on tiptoe and kissed Phillip lightly on the cheek. “Will we survive?” she whispered.

  “I suppose so.” He looked down at her, and in that moment his expression changed from one of recalled pain to interest. Interest of the male-female variety.

  “Oh, no,” she murmured shaking her head and starting to pull away from him. His arms closed around her, bringing her back to him.

  “Why not?” he asked, a twinkle in his eyes that let her know he was healing perhaps faster than she. “In many ways we’re perfect for each other. Neither of us cares a whit about money. And social climbing? You don’t seem the type. Unless—” he glared at her in mock concern “—unless you’re after my title.”

  “Like I care,” she snorted in a very unladylike way.

  “See?”

  She wriggled in his arms but didn’t dare exert too much force with her shoulder still being so tender. “There’s the issue of physical attraction,” she pointed out. “I don’t make a habit of sleeping with just anyone. There has to be that spark, that something special. It doesn’t happen very often.”

  “True,” he admitted. He made a show of looking her up and down as much as their close position allowed. “You’re not really my type, after all.”

  “And I don’t need another man in my life after Robert. I’d be just as happy to stay on my own for the next decade or so.”

  “You’re not attracted to me at all, are you?” he asked casually.

  “Not a bit,” she lied.

  “Just what I thought.” But his eyes twinkled, and she doubted he believed her. “So, in effect, we’d be safe together. I mean, for the purposes of social engagements.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “If people assumed we were a couple, I wouldn’t be stalked by other women who were out to take me for my money or title. And you’d have companionship without having to worry about a commitment you don’t want.”