by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
She spent the morning with baby Luke and trying to avoid Lucas however she could. She feigned sleep when he knocked on her bedroom door; she peeked into the kitchen to be sure it was clear before she went in; and she dodged into her father's study when Lucas came in through the front door as she was heading out the same way.
Finally she escaped him long enough to gather some things and get to the barn. Quickly she saddled Brat and sent the buckskin off at a gallop. As if sensing her urgency, the mare put her head down and ate up the distance with her long, smooth strides.
Again Jessie headed for her favorite thinking spot. She knew it was going to take her a very long time to work through her tangled emotions, so she had prepared for a long day and possibly evening, with food, water, her heavy jacket and a thick roll of blankets tied behind her saddle. Once she was out of sight of the house she let Brat pick the pace, and since the mare's blood was up, she ate up the distance with a ground-covering lope most of the way.
When Jessie arrived at her bluff-top lookout, she set up camp with more concentration than was really necessary and settled down on the thick blankets. She waited for the peace she always felt here to flood her, but she soon realized that even this special place couldn't help her with this decision. That there was no help to be had with this decision.
It was impossible. She couldn't, wouldn't, give Luke up. She'd thought she'd lost him once; she could never go through that again. Nor could she surrender him to a world where his life was laid out like a route on a map he had no choice but to follow. But how could she fight an entire royal family? And one of the wealthiest royal families in the world? How could she, with her only resource this land she loved—free of debt only because of her father's financial cleverness—ever fight such a powerful family?
Because she had little doubt the entire Sebastiani family would rise up against her with the cadre of lawyers they no doubt had.
And all she had was a mother's love.
She would like to think the court would find that more valuable than wealth, but it had been proven too often that in America, you could buy your version of justice. Slick lawyers could manipulate the system until fairness was just a memory.
And what if his lawyers found a way to have the case moved to Montebello? It didn't seem possible, but again, vast wealth could literally move mountains. And in Montebello, she had even less faith in her chances.
Sometimes I think I'd be happier if I'd never gotten my memory back, Lucas had said.
She couldn't argue with that. She'd be happier, too. She and Joe would have had at least a fighting chance. She and Lucas seemed to be floundering in a morass there was no escape from, and the more they struggled, the deeper and deeper they sank.
How had something so beautiful become something so painful? How had things gotten so confused, so ugly?
She sat for hours, watching the light shift and change across this land she loved, this land that was in her blood. She barely moved until the afternoon shadows drove her to pull on her heavy coat and to light a fire.
When night fell, she was still there, huddled before the fire, thinking. She finally admitted she couldn't see any way out of this, short of taking the baby and running away. Even as the thought formed, she admitted that it would be defeating the purpose, and hardly true to what she wanted for her son. She wanted him to know the life she'd known, clean and simple and honest, before he had to go out and face life in a world that too often wasn't that way.
But how could she fight the Sebastianis? And how on earth had it become so muddled that she had to fight the father of her son, the man she'd fallen in love with when she—and he—hadn't known who he was?
She thought of all the long, lonely nights after he'd gone, when she'd ached for him, when she'd cried out at the loss of his touch. She thought of the nightmare time in that cellar, feeling terrified and alone as the only piece of Joe she had left was stolen from her.
She thought of the shock that had filled her when Ursula had tossed that newspaper down in front of her and ordered her to look at the photograph of the face that was so familiar and yet so strange. And she thought of the nights since they'd come back here, nights spent in an agony of need as he slept just across the hall, yet she couldn't—wouldn't—go to him. He'd made it clear he still wanted her, and God knew she still wanted him, but things between them were too confused, too complicated, and she didn't know if, let alone how, they could ever be straightened out.
The sound of someone calling her name yanked her out of her painful reverie. She glanced at her watch, had to tilt it until she could see the tiny glowing hands pointing nearly to midnight. After a couple of minutes the call came again, and this time there was no mistaking the source of the booming voice.
Lucas.
She didn't want to see him. Not yet. She was far from any kind of decision, and facing him would only make her feel more coerced. Right now she was angry at life, fate, the world, and whatever else had conspired to put her in this impossible position.
But she knew sooner or later he would see her fire, it would be impossible to miss that beacon in the night, so she tried to brace herself. At last she could see him riding toward her, on the big bay gelding he'd always ridden before. As Joe.
And for an instant she was back in that sweet, breathless time before the ugliness had closed in. The time when she'd reveled in falling in love, truly in love, for the first time in her life. The time when she'd been able to dismiss her lover's lack of memory, lack of a past, as a mere annoyance, of no importance when compared to his love.
Too bad she couldn't dismiss the return of that memory as easily.
But she couldn't. He was who he was, who he had always been. He rode through the night with the same easy grace that had always made her stomach knot, but now, instead of looking eagerly forward to his presence, instead of anticipating the wildfire that would leap in her at his touch, all she could think was that he had likely learned to ride by playing polo. Didn't all princes learn that way?
He called her name again, and then again, and finally some undertone in his voice penetrated her mood. He sounded.. .worried, she thought. In fact, there was an edge in his voice that sounded almost like panic, were such a thing possible in the self-contained, polished Prince Lucas.
For all her confusion about him, it wasn't in her to let anyone worry needlessly. She'd been through too much of that herself. Reluctantly she rose to her feet. In the moment before she could call out in answer, she saw the big bay spring into a lope. Lucas must have spotted her fire.
For a moment she admired his skill in the saddle. No matter how or where he'd learned, he was a magnificent rider. And then the bay came to a skidding, dirt-throwing stop she hadn't known he was capable of. Lucas leapt off the animal and hit the ground running in a single flying motion. He covered the few feet between them in two long strides, but before he even stopped moving he had grabbed her shoulders and was yelling at her. It took her a moment to make sense out of his tirade.
"—doing? Do you know how long you've been gone, and what time it is?"
* * *
"Do you realize we've all been in a panic for hours? Mrs. Winstead has been calling everyone in Shady Rock. Lloyd has been driving all over, searching. And Eliya is so upset even Luke started to cry."
She was glad it was dark so he couldn't see her blush. The hands were used to her occasional trips up here, but the others weren't. Even Joe hadn't been, because while he'd been on the ranch, she'd never wanted to wander any farther than her bedroom. With him.
"I didn't mean to worry anyone," she said meekly.
"Well, you did! We were worried sick. I thought something had happened to you, a fall, a snake, who knows what. I thought I'd lost you all over again."
And in that instant, by the light of her fire there on the bluff, she saw Joe looking at her out of Lucas's eyes. Her Joe, with all the love he'd felt for her burning bright in his gaze. Her breath caught, and in that instant he grabbed her and p
ulled her to him.
"I thought I'd lost you," he repeated, his voice broken. And he held her as he had before, as Joe, as if she were the center of his world. As if he were desperate. As if he needed her as much as she needed him.
His hands moved over her urgently, as if he simply had to touch her to be sure she was indeed alive and well. Jessie's heart was pounding with elation, with pure joy as she realized there was something of Joe's love for her left in this man, somewhere.
She wasn't sure when it changed from concern to something hotter, wilder, she only knew that here in this place that was so important to her, it felt so right she couldn't, didn't want to resist. And once he kissed her, the old familiar fire leapt as if it had been merely banked all these months and had never truly gone out.
He tasted so wonderfully familiar, yet after the long, lonely time without him, exotically new. He deepened the kiss, probing, teasing, and she opened for him, welcoming him with an eagerness that surprised her even as it swept over her. But she should have known, she realized in some part of her mind that wasn't yet swamped by the sudden onslaught of sensation. She should have known, because Joe had always been able to do this to her, as no man ever had.
His mouth was hard, demanding, insistent on hers, but unnecessarily; she wouldn't—couldn't—refuse him. Not now, not here in this place. That same part of her mind that was still functioning pointed out that this was no longer Joe but Lucas, but it was the last gasp of common sense before, as his hands began to move over her body, a wave of pleasure pushed out every logical thought.
At last he broke the kiss, and she nearly cried out at the loss of that sweet touch. She pressed herself against him, mutely begging him not to stop.
"Jessie," he said, his voice low and harsh.
"Please," she whispered.
"You do remember. You do remember what it was like between us."
"I could never forget," she told him.
She kissed him this time, reaching up and slipping her hands behind his neck to pull him down to her. Again the fire sparked, blazed to life, and the chilly night air was nothing against the heat they generated. The campfire she'd built was needless, forgotten.
"Please," she said again, and Lucas groaned.
He took her down to the blankets with exquisite care. Jessie clung to him, giving herself silent permission to let go all her reservations for this one last, glorious time. Her hands began to move, stroking, caressing, his face, his hair, his chest, his belly, and the already rigid flesh behind his zipper. She gasped in anticipation, remembering how that flesh filled her, stretched her, made her whole again.
Soon Lucas would go back to his world, she would be left in hers, and this would be all she had, so she had to make it strong enough and powerful enough to last that lonely lifetime.
* * *
Lucas groaned deep in his throat, hardly able to believe what was happening. He'd worked so hard at not pushing her, not rushing her that now, with her hands all over him in a way he'd not been touched since the night he'd walked out on her, he was nearly dizzy with the power of it.
But there was something desperate in her touch, in the way she held on to him. He didn't understand exactly what it was, but on some deep level he knew what he had to do. He had to remind her so completely of how incredible it was between them, that she would never, ever, want to give it up. With his memory intact he knew now, more than ever, how special what they'd found together was.
Now he had to convince her of that; convince her it was worth any sacrifice.
He set about doing so with full intention, stroking, caressing, kissing until she was writhing beneath his touch. Her body had changed, he thought. She'd already put some much needed weight back on, but it was more than that. Her body had a slight roundness, a fullness that hadn't been there before. That the change had happened because she'd borne his child made her even more enticing, and he had to stifle another groan.
By the time they hastily shed their clothes, they were both so hot the chilly night air and the hard ground had little impact. Still, he pulled one of the blankets up over them; he didn't want her distracted by anything, wanted her to think only of how good this was.
His plan backfired. In working to arouse her to a fever pitch, he brought himself to an agony of readiness. When at last she cried out, begging him to take her, he'd never been so achingly hard, never shuddered with the sheer effort of maintaining control.
He slid into her welcoming body, and her name broke from him as her slick, hot flesh clasped him so tightly, so perfectly. His control snapped, and he drove hard and deep, wanting to be so deeply inside her he could never be lost again.
She called out again, his name this time, and that it was Joe instead of Lucas didn't bother him; he knew that inside him Joe still lived, treasuring this life and the woman who had saved him. He lost track of what he'd meant to do as his senses spiraled out of control, every slumbering nerve leapt to life and blazed with the heat he'd found with her, only with her.
He barely hung on long enough. The moment he heard her cry out, felt her body convulse around his, squeezing him with an unbearable sweetness, he let go and plummeted after her. Their exultant cries were swallowed by the vast silence of a Colorado night, and when they lapsed into silence only the moon watched over them.
* * *
Jessie sighed and stretched. At this moment a couple of blankets spread over hard ground was the most luxurious bed she'd ever slept in. And it was all because of the man beside her, the man who had driven her wild beneath a winter night sky. Her body had blazed to life as if it had been just yesterday that he'd touched her like that, as if the intervening months alone and scared had never happened.
She savored his heat as he held her close. With him pressed tightly to her, she could feel tiny ripples going through him, like the pleasant aftershocks going through her body that were only now beginning to fade.
Finally, Lucas let out a long, compressed breath that held a note of awe. She wondered if he, too, was stunned by how quickly and completely they had rekindled that old passion, by how swiftly it had raged anew as if there had never been any time or distance between them.
He reached over and tugged the blanket over her bare shoulder. For a long time they simply lay there, looking up at the stars, but eventually Lucas spoke softly.
"We have to work this out, Jessie."
She sighed, wishing she could have had just this one night without the intrusion of reality. "The only thing that's changed is that we know.. .it's still as good as it was."
"The sex? Yes, it is. But that's only part of why we can't let it slip away." He lifted himself up on one elbow to look down at her. "You've always been fair-minded, Jessie. Be fair about this. You haven't even seen my home, met my family, yet you're making a life-impacting decision about them."
What he said made sense, but she was certain there was nothing that would change her mind about this. "I can't let my son grow up like that."
"Be honest, Jessie. You don't really know what it's like. And it's not like you to be judgmental. If it was, you never would have hired me when I didn't even know my name, let alone anything else. You gave me, Joe, a chance. It's only fair you give Montebello a chance, too."
He had, she had to admit, a point. As if he'd sensed her uncertainty, he pressed on.
"If you won't give that chance to me as Lucas, give it to Luke's father. I deserve that much."
She felt buffeted, helpless. "What do you want me to do?"
"Come home with me, just for a visit. See Montebello, meet my parents, my people."
She didn't know how to tell him that royal assumption, "my people," had just quashed any hopes she might have had that something could be worked out. There was simply no way, no middle ground as long as he refused to compromise on Luke's future.
But she couldn't deny one thing. As Luke's father, as the man who had brought her son home to her, he did deserve at least that much.
"All right," she said
at last, reluctantly. "I'll come. For a visit. But that's all," she warned.
"Thank you," he said, accepting her grudging offer in a voice so fervent she knew she'd done the right thing. For now, at least. Even though she knew she could never surrender her son to such a life.
And when Lucas made love to her again, this time with a gentle passion that warmed her to the soul, she ached with the wish that it could last forever.
Chapter 9
Lucas was very aware that Jessie wasn't happy about the decision she'd made, but he himself was delighted. Acceding to her wishes, he'd set a departure date of next Monday, although he was eager to go now. He just knew that once he got her to Montebello, his home would work its own special magic. She would see that all her fears were groundless, and they could begin to plan for their—and Luke's—future.
Jessie, meanwhile, was running from dawn to dusk, determined to make sure the ranch was well taken care of during her absence. He thought concern about the ranch was all it was, this forced busyness, until he caught her with Brat in the buckskin's stall, weeping against the horse's satin neck. Then he realized just how unhappy she was. He went to her and pulled her into his arms. He was about to ask what was wrong, but realized he didn't want to hear the answer. He was afraid it would be that she'd changed her mind and refused to go with him, and he didn't know how he was going to deal with that.
So instead he just held her, and she seemed to come back to herself.
"I'm sorry," she finally murmured. "I don't usually dwell on a decision once it's made. But the last time I left home, I was terrified I'd never see it again. I guess I'm still a little edgy about leaving."
"That's understandable, after what you went through," he said, relieved this was all it was, and thankful for her honesty. But then, Jessie had always been honest. "But it will be all right. You'll see."
She let out a sigh, but said nothing. Worried that she wasn't going to be able to give his home a fair chance, he impulsively asked, "Do you want to bring Brat? We could have her flown, easily."