The Prince's Wedding

by Justine Davis

  "Because she has some crazy idea that Luke—" he began, then stopped. He had to be fair, he told himself. Jessie had valid concerns, and he wouldn't belittle them by speaking disparagingly of them to his parents.

  So with an effort, he explained to them in some detail. When he'd finished, his mother nodded in understanding, while his father looked bewildered.

  "But the boy will have every advantage!" he exclaimed.

  "She knows that. She just doesn't think it outweighs freedom of choice."

  "But he is the heir. How can she possibly—"

  He broke off when his wife gently touched his arm. "I understand perfectly," she said softly. "I'm British, and I've learned what happens when someone who doesn't want it is forced to take the crown."

  Lucas gave his mother a grateful look. But it turned into a frown as he realized she had just validated part of Jessie's argument. He'd have to tell her not to mention that view to Luke's mother, if she wanted her grandson here to continue to spoil.

  "But it's hardly like that here," Marcus protested.

  "How is she to know that?" Gwendolyn said soothingly.

  Grumbling somewhat, Marcus subsided. Lucas wasn't truly worried about his father. He might take affront at the implication anything in his beloved Montebello could ever be bad for his grandson, but once he was face-to-face with Jessie, his powerful sense of fairness would kick in and he would be just that with her, fair.

  But it was going to have to wait, Lucas thought later as he inched open her door after she didn't respond to his light knock. He saw the small shape under the covers of the bed and moved quietly into the room. She was sound asleep, looking so weary he didn't have the heart to wake her.

  He used the intercom—a system he had introduced when he'd grown tired of the ancient bell-pull system—to speak to the upstairs maid who handled the guest rooms, and asked her to please notify him when Jessie was awake and ready to go downstairs.

  Lunch came and went. She never called.

  Later, Lucas headed purposefully up the stairs from his office. He understood that Jessie had been tired and wary, and reluctant to face his parents under those conditions. But he'd let her rest for six hours now, and if she didn't get up for a while, he told himself, her sleep patterns were going to be hopelessly confused. So he headed for the guest wing to wake her up.

  When she didn't answer his knock, he became concerned; the maid said she'd peeked in twice to find their guest still sleeping. Perhaps the woman had mistaken the situation, maybe Jessie was ill, or something else was wrong. She'd been through a horrible ordeal, after all, and wasn't that long out of the hospital.

  Determined now, he reached for the ornate door handle. He let out a tiny breath of relief when he found she hadn't locked it; she didn't feel that threatened, apparently. He pushed it open and stepped inside, his mouth open to call her name when he spotted her out on the terrace.

  She was wrapped in the guest robe from the bathroom, and leaning on the stone balustrade. The slight breeze lifted strands of her hair, which gleamed gold in the afternoon sun. There was something about the sunlight here in his homeland that was unlike anywhere else, he thought.

  He crossed the room quietly, enjoying simply watching her as she looked out to the sea. She looked entranced, and he hoped she was. It was the first step toward falling in love with Montebello.

  "Jessie?" he said softly as he reached the French doors that led outside. He didn't want to startle her. She turned to look at him. She didn't seem surprised by his presence, and in fact looked almost as if she'd expected him.

  "I'm sorry," she said immediately. "I must have been more tired than I realized."

  "That's all right," he said, going to stand beside her. He noticed then that tendrils of hair around her neck were damp, and realized she must have showered and come out here before dressing.

  Before dressing.

  Which meant she was likely naked under that damnably thick robe.

  He swore silently. He'd tried not to pressure her. After that night on the ranch when she'd agreed to come back with him, he'd walked so carefully that whole eggs wouldn't have broken beneath his feet. He had never assumed he was welcome in her bed, and indeed had spent a couple of achingly lonely nights alone when she'd been so exhausted from pushing to get done everything she wanted to before they left.

  He'd been so careful then because he didn't want anything to interfere with getting her here, and he was desperately afraid he'd somehow say something to make her change her mind. It had been a very strange feeling for him. He was a man who hadn't spent much time worrying about how he dealt with people; as Prince Lucas Sebastiani, people worried about how they dealt with him. And never was he afraid that he might repel someone he didn't want to. People went out of their way to spend more time with him, not avoid him.

  He'd never thought much about his assumptions before, and how ingrained they were. And this added to the niggling uncertainty he now felt regarding things he'd always been positive about. Jessie Chambers, he thought, had truly rattled his cage, as his American FBI friend was wont to say.

  And never more than at moments like now, when all he could think about was how soft and sweet she was, how luscious she tasted, how her body could coax his to heights he'd never believed existed, again and again.

  Her expression slowly changed, telling him that his must have also.

  "Lucas," she began, and he didn't miss that she took the tiniest of steps backward.

  "I see," he said tightly.

  Jessie looked suddenly flustered. "I know this is a huge place, but it is your parents' home."

  "Yes, it is. And I would never do anything they wouldn't approve of here."

  "You do that elsewhere?" she asked, and he supposed he'd asked for that one.

  "The Playboy Prince did," he admitted. "But I gave up my 'elsewhere' the day I came home from America, because I knew I could never be that man again."

  For a long moment Jessica just looked at him, and he wished he knew what was going on in that quick mind of hers. Did she not believe him, not believe he'd truly changed? Or was she thinking about the way he'd walked out on her?

  He had the fleeting thought that she might have seen, or someone had told her about, the tabloid stories, but he didn't know when that could have happened. And certainly none of his staff or the palace staff would have been foolish enough to say anything. Most of them had been with the Sebastiani family for years, and were utterly loyal. Treating people well was a philosophy his father carried through down to the lowliest of employees.

  He opened his mouth to plead with her to believe him, that he was no longer that kind of man. But he knew Jessie wasn't a woman who believed in talk, she believed in actions. He couldn't tell her, he would have to show her.

  But at least she was here, so he had a chance.

  Somehow he doubted that ignoring her reservations about being in his parents' home and jumping her here and now, as he so much wanted to do, would convince her. The allure of her naked, still damp body was nearly overwhelming, but the thought of driving her away by proving he thought of nothing but pleasure gave him the tiny edge he needed to tamp down the fire that threatened to break loose.

  He made himself back up a step. "My mother has ordered dinner served in the breakfast room." Jessie looked puzzled, and he explained. "It's where we eat on informal occasions, or when it's just family. It's much more relaxed, and she thought you might be more comfortable there."

  "Oh. Thank you." Then her brow furrowed. "What should I wear? Not that I have a lot of choice," she said rather ruefully. "Not much call for dressing for dinner on the ranch."

  He resisted the temptation to tell her just the robe, and said evenly, "Informal means casual. I admit jeans aren't my mother's first choice for attire, but she's had to surrender since all her children wear them."

  Jessie looked suddenly panicked. "Are they here? Your sisters?"

  "Not at the moment. But even if they were, I promise you they
don't bite. Julia is quite regal these days, since marrying Rashid, but she's still her generous self. Christina is brilliant, but Jack keeps her in line. And Anna is still adorable, and leading her new husband a merry dance. Both she and Christina are expecting."

  "Sounds.. .active." Jessie looked a bit overwhelmed.

  "It is, but it's also fun. They've all found a happiness that practically glows."

  He didn't add that he wanted to see that glow on her face; he knew she wasn't ready to hear it. But he did want it, and the only thing he wanted more than that was to be the one that put it there.

  Chapter 12

  Jessie was starting to feel smothered with kindness as she walked along the terrace outside the first floor of the palace. It wasn't oppressive, not really, but definitely unrelenting. It made her feel as if everyone was under orders to make her welcome, which took some of the spontaneity out of it all.

  On the other hand, she couldn't deny that the imposing King Marcus and the lovely, charming Queen Gwendolyn positively doted on Luke. And the baby already responded to them with happy familiarity, so she knew this was not simply a show put on for her benefit. They also made it clear they would welcome her into the Sebastiani family graciously, but, Jessie suspected, it would be as much because she was Luke's mother as anything else. More, probably.

  Of course, once the king and queen made it clear she was accepted, the rest of the family—and probably the country, if what she'd heard about the high regard the populace had for the royals was true—would follow their lead. Were she crazy enough to accept this loveless bargain, her life would not be difficult in that regard, at least. In the beginning, anyway. She seemed to recall a couple of British royals who had married into The Firm and had been welcomed at first....

  But as determined as everyone was to make her feel welcome, she couldn't miss the fact that everyone here apparently considered her marriage to Lucas all but accomplished, nothing left but the paperwork.

  Jessie stopped to peer through a tall window into the huge grand ballroom, remembering then how she had even been asked by a cheerful woman who identified herself as the queen's junior secretary where she thought she might like to have the ceremony, inside in the grand ballroom, or perhaps out in the royal gardens, since the weather was always lovely in Montebello. Jessie had honestly blanked for a moment before realizing the woman meant wedding ceremony, which earned her a very startled look.

  The fact that they all seemed to think that her marriage to Lucas was a sure thing made her feel even more determined to make her own decision, in her own sweet time. And if her choice turned out to be no—as, of course, it would—wouldn't they all just feel a bit silly, for thinking their precious prince was irresistible?

  The problem was, Lucas darn near was irresistible. She'd proved that a time or two, she thought ruefully. He had only to touch her, kiss her, and she was ready to give in. In that way he was still Joe, able to leave her breathless and longing for more with a single kiss.

  But she had to be strong, no matter how she might ache for his touch. She had to make this decision with a clear head, and clarity was the first casualty of Lucas's touch; thinking much at all through the golden haze of pleasure he could rouse in her was impossible.

  "Ready for the rest of the tour?"

  Jessie sighed as Lucas came up behind her, as if she'd conjured him up with her thoughts.

  "I'm not sure," she said frankly. "I've already seen so much, and it's all jumbled together in my mind."

  "It is a big place, and a bit confusing. And you've only seen a fraction of it."

  She knew that, since he'd so far only shown her the top floor, the family's residential area and the other guest rooms. She'd found it curious that he began with the private part of the residence rather than the public areas, but she supposed it was part of his campaign to make her feel as if she were already part of the family, and therefore as if she belonged in that part of the house.

  While escorting her back to her room in the guest wing after dinner last night, he'd given her a brief glimpse of his parents' quarters, which occupied an entire wing beyond the guest suites, and of his sisters's rooms, empty now that the princesses had all married and moved on, but still kept in readiness for visits. Apparently, Princess Anna and her husband, Tyler, stayed in the palace often. And Princess Julia, Sheikh Rashid and their young son, Omar, were frequent visitors. Christina lived in Montana with her husband and travelled to Montebello less often, but a room still waited. Lucas had shown her the music room, and the private screening room where they watched movies at their leisure. And the billiard room, which was, she noted wryly, directly adjacent to his personal quarters.

  And that, she guessed as he headed back in that direction, was where they were headed now. Which of course put her on edge, yet at the same time she was very curious to see what his rooms were like.

  He didn't make a production out of it. He merely opened the door for her, and as she stepped in pointed out the parlor, a rather formally decorated room where he told her he met with friends.

  Then came what he called his retreat, a room done in an English-library style, with a leather sofa and a couple of richly upholstered wing chairs, bookcases filled to overflowing with everything from leather-bound volumes with gilt-edged pages to dog-eared paperbacks. There was a desk in one corner, with a computer on another table behind it, which he said was linked to his computer downstairs in his official office.

  She knew what the next room had to be, and steeled herself for stepping into his bedroom. When she did, she was startled; a less royal-looking room she'd never seen. There were no formal draperies on the terrace windows, only simple pleated shades, nothing to interfere with the view of the water. The four-poster was of dark wood in simpler lines, but even bigger than hers. Lucas had no need of the steps, she noticed.

  The linens were as rich as the ones in her room but simpler, in an attractive dark green and cool blue plaid. There was another bookcase near the bed, as full as the other one had been, telling her that Joe's love of reading at the ranch had been real and long established.

  Above the bed was a painting that looked to be of a sheltered cove in a turquoise sea, somewhere here on Montebello, she guessed. Her chest tightened a little when she saw, next to a comfortable chair beside the bed, a small table that held a single framed photograph. Luke, smiling a baby grin into the camera.

  And then she turned slightly, and saw the wall opposite the bed. Saw what would be the first thing he saw upon waking. And it took her breath away. For on the wall was a panoramic, scenic photograph, enlarged to great size, of her own beloved Colorado. It was a view of the Rockies that almost could have been taken on the ranch itself.

  Instinctively her head snapped around and she stared at him in surprise.

  "I found it online. Once I saw it, I had to have it."

  The idea of Prince Lucas of Montebello personally ordering a photographic print online was almost disconcerting enough to overshadow the fact of the print's subject. Almost.

  "It was my way of hanging on to Joe, and what he learned there."

  She turned to face him then. "You could have just come back."

  "And I inevitably would have brought all this with me," he said, gesturing vaguely around him as if to include everything. "I've been front-page news ever since the media discovered I was alive. I knew if I went to you after my memory first came back, I'd bring all that with me."

  "So you decided not to give me the opportunity to decide for myself," she said, giving voice to the real crux of the matter for her.

  "I knew you would hate it," he said, apparently not seeing her point at all. "And before I could even come home, I was..."

  She let the other go for now, and finished it for him. "You were off breaking up terrorist groups."

  "Just one."

  "Still...." She owed him this, she thought, because it was how she really felt. And not everyone would have been willing to do what he'd done, and most certainly not eve
ry royal. "It was a heroic thing to do. Those people shouldn't be allowed to exist in a civilized world."

  "I don't know about heroic. It had to be done, for the sake of that civilized world, not just my country or yours."

  "Exactly," she said, still smiling as he made her point for her.

  He shrugged. "Anyway, after that the media followed me everywhere. Everywhere outside of Montebello, anyway. Here they at least acceded to my father's request to back off, for the most part."

  Jessie couldn't help thinking of all the presidents who would have liked to do the same thing, not that it would have done any good in the U.S. But apparently it did some good here, such was the king's power.

  "Then," Lucas said, and there was a world of echoed pain in his voice and in his eyes, "I was told you were dead. My cousin Drew tried to break it gently, but it didn't matter. I felt.. .shattered. Because now I could never go back, it was too late."

  Jessie stared at him. Surely such pain meant he had cared, didn't it? Her hopes wanted to soar, but she knew she couldn't afford that, so tamped down her emotional reaction. Of course he cared, he'd loved her as Joe, and it was likely some feeling had survived his metamorphosis back to Lucas. But apparently it wasn't love. Or at least, he wouldn't admit to it.

  And suddenly she wondered if perhaps he wanted her to be the bad guy, wanted her to turn him down, and that was why he'd made sure not to mention the one thing that would make her want to say yes, that he still loved her as much as Joe had loved her. Maybe she was supposed to say no, and thus free him to go back to his life as it had been.

  "That started the worst time of my life." His voice softened. "Until they brought us Luke."

  His words brought her out of her thoughts, and reminded her of the real reason she was here—because she was the mother of a prince's son. He had only come back to her after he had Luke, and for all his reasons for not coming back when his memory had first returned, she wasn't sure she believed them.

  For that matter, even if she did believe his reasons for staying away, she wasn't sure they were good enough, not to her battered heart.