by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
"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 every 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.
Lucas seemed to sense her change in mood, because he quickly suggested they move on, and he would show her the rest of the palace. The afternoon became a jumbled collection of impressions as they went down the grand staircase and into the ballroom she'd been looking into from outside. She held her breath, waiting for him to make some suggestion about a wedding being held here, but he said nothing beyond pointing out the main chandelier, an incredible waterfall of crystal teardrops.
From there he showed her the library and two drawing rooms, one decorated in red, one in gold, which connected by sliding doors that could be opened to the large banquet room. She marveled at the huge tapestries on the wall and how the rich cherrywood of the furnishings blended well with the burgundy of the walls and draperies. With a fireplace at each end, the room inspired her to imagine what an incredible setting it would be, with dignitaries dressed in their finest clothes and jewels, glittering by firelight.
She liked the more subtle, smaller dining room better, cream and gold accented in dark green, and liked the pastel-hued, light-filled breakfast room best of all.
He took her to the picture gallery and archive room next. She had expected something of the sort, but still the string of portraits of Sebastianis down the years was fascinating. Old King August
us bore a startling resemblance to Lucas's father—or the other way around, she supposed. In fact, the family resemblance through the years was strong; she could see traces of that stubborn jaw and fierce intelligence in almost all the portraits that hung there.
Next to the big oils of the king and queen there was a portrait of the current family, with Lucas and his three sisters gathered around the royal couple, but no individual ones of the children were present.
"None of you or your sisters?"
"Not yet. The traditional portraitist unfortunately passed away a couple of years ago, and mother hasn't chosen a new one yet. She's rather particular."
Jessie glanced back at the painting of the queen in full regalia, noticed the way the artist had, while not being fawningly flattering, captured the essence of her beauty and personality, the genuine smile that curved her lips, the twinkling glint in her blue eyes. "I can see why."
"And this," he said, gesturing to the next room, "is the archives."
"Amazing," Jessie said, more used to the idea of love letters kept in a shoe box than anything like this.
"Family documents, letters dating back centuries, marriage agreements, treaties, declarations, you name it, it's all here."
This brought something to mind that she'd been meaning to ask. "Including the famous feud?"
"Especially that," he said, with a grin that belied the seriousness, to her at least, of the subject.
"Is Luke in danger here?" she asked bluntly. "He's been kidnapped once, because of who he is. I won't let him become a target again."
"Do you think I will?" Lucas said, an edge in his voice. "I can't deny that anyone high profile isn't always safe in this world. But Luke will have a cadre of protectors, willing to die for him if necessary."
She frowned. "That's not my idea of reassurance."
"There's little threat from Tamir any longer. Julia and Rashid ended the feud, then our friends began to marry into the families, and now the Sebastiani and Kamal families are all either friends or in-laws. We have to get along, whether we like it or not."
Now that did reassure her. "Sounds...confusing."
"I'll lay it all out for you, if you like." His smile was a bit crooked. "Or maybe Mother should. So much of it happened while I was gone, I'm not up to speed myself." He gestured at the room they stood in. "But you could say this is where the feud between my country and Tamir came to an end."
She blinked. "In here?"
He nodded. "This is where Julia and Rashid discovered the truth about the murder that started that feud all those years ago."
"They themselves?"
"Yes." He grinned. "They had to resolve it, or Julia never would have married him. And believe me, those two needed to be married."
"Because she was pregnant with his child," Jessie said, remembering the news stories.
"No," Lucas said, his voice suddenly tense. "Because they were crazy about each other. Let's go."
She followed him silently. She'd hit a nerve, it seemed. Because her question had pointed out the difference in their situations? Because she'd inadvertently reminded him that he felt forced to marry the mother of his child, a woman he no longer loved?
She wished she could believe he'd corrected her because he loved her in that same way, but nothing could erase the cold, business-like presentation that had been more job offer than proposal. There had been nothing of love in it, nor had it been spoken of since, not even the night they'd shared at the lookout. She told herself she shouldn't be surprised; why would a man who lived this life want a plain, ordinary woman like her?
And there certainly hadn't been love in the actions of the man who had walked out without even giving her the opportunity to make a choice about her future. Just as he wanted to take away Luke's choices. Which she could not and would not let him do. No matter what it cost her. Her son's entire life was on the line here, and she had to fight for him while he was helpless to fight for himself. Even if it meant she lost his father.
Lucas came to a halt at a huge pair of the most ornately carved and gilded doors she'd ever seen—and she'd swear the gilt was real gold. There was something about the warmth and sheen that screamed it.
"You might as well see the heart of it, then," Lucas said, and from his edgy tone she gathered he was still tense. She was about to ask him for an explanation when he reached out and gave the doors a shove. They swept open automatically, and she guessed they had to be powered somehow.
And then she was staring into a room that matched those doors, a huge expanse of glitter and gleam, with soaring columns, tile mosaics along one wall that portrayed what looked like historical events, portraits of the kings along the other wall. Then she saw the roller of thick, red carpet beside the door, and then the raised dais at the far end of the room, behind which hung a huge, exquisitely detailed map of Montebello.
You might as well see the heart of it....
The throne room. This had to be the throne room, she realized with a little shock.
Never in her life had she ever thought she'd be standing in a throne room. Any throne room. The closest she'd ever been to seeing one at all was in television documentaries on Great Britain. She had to admit it had her a little awestruck.
"My father was crowned here, and his father before him, back to the beginning," Lucas said, his voice softer now. "On an ordinary day, it seems too much, almost a gaudy display. But on a state occasion, it befits the mood, the tradition, the importance."
She was moved by the solemnity of his words; he felt deeply about this, she realized. "And you will be crowned here?"
"When the time comes," he agreed. "But that's a long time away."
"I hope so," she said, meaning it. "I quite like your father."
"Really? He intimidates most people."
"I can see how. But when I see how he loves your mother, I can't be too scared by him."
Lucas smiled then, and a tightness in her chest she hadn't even realized was there lifted.
"It will be a long time," he repeated. "As I told you, he's as healthy as the proverbial horse, thank goodness. Speaking of which, let me show you what I'm sure will be your favorite place."
Curious, as much at the sudden gleam in his eye as wondering what place could be more special than this, she followed his lead and was surprised when they stepped out through a side door she hadn't realized was there. Parked just outside were a couple of small vehicles that looked like golf carts, and he walked her over to one.
"I usually walk, but I don't want to wait to show you this," he said.
She got in, he went around to the driver's side, and they were quickly off. The vehicle was silent, and she realized it must be electric.
She looked back as they pulled away, realizing anew how huge the palace was, yet at the same time understanding that as palaces went, it was fairly modest. One of the maids had told her—part of that unrelenting campaign to impress her—that the royal family had repeatedly rejected plans to expand, using the housing budget only for repairs to the existing building, saying such an expenditure was unjustified when there were still things to be done for the people of Montebello.
The cart wheeled easily along a well-groomed path that made a curve to the right around a rise a hundred yards or so away from the palace. When the building went out of sight, she turned back to face forward again. And gasped.
Below, in a small valley still within view of the sea, was an expansive set of buildings and structures that could serve only one purpose, and one very dear to her.
Horses!
It was the most luxurious, well-kept stable she had ever seen. A sudden image from some long-ago-read children's book popped into her mind, of stables with marble mangers, and horses's names on brass plaques above each stall. It was that kind of place, worthy of the finest blooded animals, Kentucky derby winners or the Lippizaners of Austria.
"Brat would have been well housed," he said.
The thought of her lovely but rough-and-tumble little bucksk
in in this setting made her smile. "She would love it, for a while, but I think she'd be longing for the mountains before too long."
"Like horse, like rider," Lucas said, letting out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh.
"Yes," she said honestly. "I can't deny that. But I said I would be fair, and I will."
She meant it. And she couldn't say this wasn't fascinating, or that she was sorry she'd come. At least, as far as seeing this piece of the world was concerned; Montebello was beautiful, fascinating, and she could understand why some thought it paradise. If it wasn't for her mixed emotions about Lucas, and the intense pressure she felt because of why he'd brought her here, she would be having the time of her life.
But only because she knew she'd be going back home soon.
It wasn't that the luxury of this life wasn't amazing. She was constantly looking around and marveling that people actually lived like this. But for a country girl, used to the simplicity of life on her ranch, it was often overwhelming. And only proved to her what she'd already known; the expensive trappings of this kind of life weren't very important to her.
But this, she thought, looking eagerly ahead as they continued toward the stable, this she could get used to.
The main barn was a long, low building with at least twenty stalls on each side. Each stall had a long run outside, and she imagined they opened onto a large center corridor inside.
"There are fans in the attic, every fifteen feet, to make sure the barn doesn't get too hot in high summer," Lucas said. "Each stall is fifteen by fifteen except the broodmare stalls, which are twenty by twenty."
"I can't wait to see the inside," she said, leaning forward to peer at the circular corral, which back home they called a bullpen. A larger paddock was beyond that, and in it on the far side was a black horse.
It was the horse that drew her attention most of all. From here she could tell little except his color, a gleaming black she was willing to bet was pure, unlike most horses called black who were really a very dark brown, as evidenced by lighter brown in areas on the flanks and nose.