by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
Lucas whistled, a piercing sound that made Jessie glad her head was turned. The black's head came up sharply, he looked their way and trumpeted an answer that made her heart beat faster. Stallion, she thought.
And then the animal started toward them. First trotting in a high-action way that put her in mind of those Lippizaners she'd thought of earlier. And then he broke into a smooth, sweeping gallop that sent his heavy mane and tail flying. He was at the fence waiting for them when Lucas maneuvered the cart to a halt alongside the paddock.
Jessie got out without waiting and took one look at the horse's classic, dished Arab face and whistled lowly.
"He's beautiful," she breathed.
"Meet Pitch," Lucas said. "As in 'black as.' Pitch, be polite now."
Knowing the propensities of stallions, Jessie approached cautiously.
"He's a gentleman," Lucas said, "but you're wise to go slowly."
She lifted a hand but didn't touch, just let the animal sniff. He stretched his neck out farther, and on instinct she did as she did with Brat, puffed little breaths against his nose. The horse snorted, but didn't move, and after a moment nudged her hand in a signal that it was all right to come closer. In his way, she thought, the horse was as royal as his owners.
Then she was stroking and patting the powerful neck, feeling the play of taut muscle beneath sleek hide, and there was room for nothing in her mind but the joy of being near horses again.
She could have stayed admiring the stallion for much longer, but she was also eager to see the rest. The barn was everything the spruce-and-tidy exterior promised; a horse lover's dream. He showed her the tack room with a varied array of gear, the office with its modern computer to track feed, vaccinations, veterinary info, shoeings, and then let her wander from stall to stall to her heart's content.
Each occupant was unique to her, from the delicately boned white yearling filly to the heavier built four-blood bays used to pull the royal carriage on state occasions. She introduced herself to all of them, savoring the beautiful lines, the intelligent eyes, and the immaculate conditions.
"If I 'd known this was what it would take to enchant you, I would have brought you here first," Lucas teased.
"Well, you should have known," Jessie retorted without thought.
"Yes, I should have," he answered, his voice very quiet.
She glanced at him then, but his expression told her nothing. She hated that polished, practiced facade. She'd never seen it on Joe; Joe's face had been open to her, readable. With Lucas, she never felt sure of what he was thinking.
And she couldn't help thinking that that was because Joe had loved her, so he'd let her see.
And Lucas did not.
Chapter 13
"It wasn't easy," Gwendolyn said in heartfelt tones. "If I had let things out of my hands, those children would have been spoiled absolutely rotten. Our people seemed to feel it was their duty to shower gifts of all kinds on each child as they came along. Lucas most of all, because he was the heir."
Jessie had been surprised when the queen had invited her, alone, to her personal parlor. She'd arrived, after dressing hastily in her nicest linen pants and a pale yellow cotton sweater, to find Gwendolyn dressed in a lightweight dress of nearly the same shade of yellow. Somehow that made her able to relax a little.
She'd been here a week now, long enough to see that the easy, close relationship between Lucas and his parents was a real one of long standing, not just one engendered by the near escape they'd been through. After a few awkward moments spent wondering if she was holding the proffered cup of tea correctly, or sitting in a ladylike manner, Jessie had asked about raising royal children.
"I tried to raise them as normally as possible, keep them in touch with the real world despite—" the queen waved in a regal way that encompassed all of their surroundings "—all this. I'd seen what happened to royal children who grew up thinking this was their just due, who knew nothing of the real world. Fortunately, Marcus agreed with me."
Jessie seized the chance to ask a question that had been lingering in her mind. "Lucas said you've been married thirty-seven years."
"Close enough," Gwendolyn agreed. "I love Marcus more now than I did then. And I loved him a great deal then," she added with a smile.
"Yet you told him no? Often?"
"I see my son has been busy spilling the family history," she said, sounding so amused that Jessie knew she hadn't offended her. "Yes, I did, at first. Five times."
Jessie's eyes widened. "May I ask why?"
Gwendolyn gave a shrug that somehow managed to be elegant. "Everyone else did. I was supposed to be swept off my feet by the simple fact that I was being courted by a prince. But I was a teacher to the British royal family. I had seen that life from the inside, and was certain it wasn't for me."
Jessie's breath caught. It could have been her speaking those words. And by the way the queen was looking at her, she suspected the woman knew it.
"Besides, I didn't want to leave my home. I grew up in the English countryside, and I loved it there. I couldn't imagine leaving it."
"But you did," Jessie said, watching the woman's still beautiful face intently. Hearing her own misgivings voiced by this regal woman was one of the oddest sensations she'd ever experienced.
"Yes, I did. Because, you see, in spite of my resistance, I fell quite in love with Marcus Sebastiani. And realized he truly loved me. And once that happened, there really was no choice but the one I made." Gwendolyn returned her intense regard levelly. "And I have not regretted it, not once in those thirty-seven years."
The queen's words echoed in her mind as she walked through the royal gardens a while later. Gwendolyn was a very smart woman, so Jessie had little doubt her answers had been planned to alleviate Jessie's worries. But the queen was missing one important detail that made Jessie's situation different than that of herself and Marcus.
Marcus loved her. He had chosen and married his queen for love, not duty. He had not been forced in any way —she had noticed the dates of their marriage and Lucas's birth, and there were months to spare.
Once more that lost feeling swamped her. Why couldn't Lucas love her as Joe once had? Had that nasty tabloid story been true, once his memory had returned, had he realized he was too far above a mere American ranch woman?
Unbidden, a memory of that night at the lookout flooded her mind with images and her body with heat. Could that really have been a man who didn't love her?
Don't be a naive fool, she told herself. You know perfectly well that for a man, sex and love are often two totally different things.
For Joe, they hadn't been, she protested silently. But Lucas wasn't Joe, not really. She had always believed a person was the sum of many parts. It wasn't just who you were inside that made you the person you were, but how you were raised, what you were taught and what you believed. And there couldn't be two men further apart in that than an itinerant ranch hand and a crown prince.
It was Joe who had loved her. And it was Joe she had loved. Lucas, she wasn't at all sure about.
Her head began to whirl with it all; it seemed no matter which way she looked at it, it was an unsolvable conundrum. The only thing she was positive of was that she didn't want her son to grow up with no choices about his life's path.
She decided to do the one thing that always helped her think—be around horses. She ran to her room, changed into jeans, and headed for the stables. She took the path on foot, figuring the exercise wouldn't hurt her; she was used to long, work-filled days, and she hadn't had that here. Maybe she could ask if there was something she could do around the stable; she felt useless and lazy with no work to do.
She began to trot in her eagerness to get to the horses. She rounded the curve and started down the hill, then looked up to see if the stable complex was as wonderful as she remembered. And saw that someone was riding the black Arab in the paddock.
Lucas.
She couldn't really see the rider's face from here, bu
t nevertheless she knew it was him. There was simply something about his easy, graceful way of riding that was obvious to her practiced eye.
She slowed to a walk, watching the duo work, first in long circles along the fence, then in an elongated figure eight across the middle of the enclosure, with the stallion doing a graceful, perfectly executed flying change of leads at the cross point. She stopped a few yards away, not wanting them to see her and stop. Because for a moment, one sweet, precious moment, it was like watching Joe again.
But then reality took over the image, and she saw the English-style saddle that looked tiny next to the Western stock saddles she was used to, and the refined riding attire he was wearing, so unlike the jeans and Western shirts Joe had worn, and that she was used to.
The stallion moved with a grace and power to match his rider. The two together were an overpowering picture, and when the image blurred, it took Jessie a moment to realize her eyes were brimming with tears.
She didn't know what to do. The choice before her seemed so ugly—risk losing her son, or spend her life in a marriage of convenience that was convenient for only one of them.
She couldn't deny the physical attraction between them. It would be foolish to. But neither could she convince herself of what she'd hoped after that night they'd spent making love under the Colorado sky, that there was more to this than a simple business proposition, that he didn't just want to marry her because she was the mother of his child and it would make things—the succession in particular—so much simpler.
She tried not to kid herself that it was anything else. And she had all those long, lonely nights when he could have come back to her but hadn't, to convince her it wasn't.
If it hadn't been for Luke, she thought, she wouldn't even be here. Lucas would have kept the clean break, never to walk back into her life again.
She blinked to clear her vision. When the swimming stopped, it seemed she had cleared it in more ways than one. As she looked down at the richly appointed stables, at the pure wealth demonstrated there, she saw that Lucas truly belonged here. He was part of this picture, as Joe could never have been. This was his life, his way of life, and it was no wonder he wouldn't trade it for the quiet, laborious life she lived. It was the life she loved, but she couldn't see someone who had grown up with all this—
Her thoughts broke off as she realized he'd seen her. He had the black horse sidling up to the gate in the fence, nudging it open. Just as she'd taught him to do back at the ranch, where opening and closing gates was crucial.
She wondered if she had time to turn and get away, and avoid this encounter. But he sent the black toward her at a lope, and she knew she might as well stay here, since the horse would eat up the short distance between them in a matter of seconds. With a sigh, she stayed put. Her horsewoman's eye automatically focused on the black.
He was as beautiful as she remembered, she thought as they neared her. She'd always thought of Arabians as flashy, showy, but delicate. This horse made that a lie; he was fit, strong, and looked as if he could run forever and then start over again. He looked light after the bulky, brawny cow horses she was used to, but he was no less powerful. It was simply a different kind of power, designed by nature for the long haul, not the short, dramatic explosions of power of the quarter horse.
"Come for a ride with me?" were the first words out of Lucas's mouth. "I'm sure we can find a horse you'll like."
Being alone with him was not high on her list of things she wanted just now, not with the tangle of emotion and reality and longing she was feeling. But the temptation of being on a horse again was more than she could resist.
So a few minutes later, the black tied and patiently—for a stallion—waiting outside, they were walking into the huge, airy barn. And within less than a minute, a uniformed groom skidded to a halt in front of them.
"May I help you, Your Highness?"
The royal appellation still rattled Jessie, but Lucas merely nodded. "We need a second horse, Mario."
The groom nodded. "For the lady? There's that lovely little bay mare, or—"
The man stopped when Lucas held up a hand. "She's been riding since before she could walk, Mario. I don't want to bore her."
A wide grin flashed over the man's face. "Ghost?"
Lucas smiled. "That's more like it. She will do nicely, thank you."
As the groom trotted away, Jessie gave him a sideways look. "Back home, when a new hand shows up, we give him the toughest horse in the stable to try out."
He grinned. "I know. I carried the bruises from that big piebald of yours for days."
The boys had indeed put the newcomer through his paces, graining up Buddy until he was nearly coming out of his skin before they led the big paint out for Joe to climb aboard.
"But you won everybody's respect. You had old Buddy stepping out like a dressage champion."
"After getting thrown three times," Lucas said wryly.
"That's why they respected you," Jessie told him.
"I promise you this horse won't throw you. She's got the spirit of her sire," he said, gesturing toward where the black was tied outside, "but the loving nature of her dam, who sadly died giving birth to her."
The minute she looked at the lovely dapple-gray mare with the intelligent, gentle eyes, delicate face and flowing mane and tail, Jessie fell in love. It went against everything she believed in, all the years of finding the best horses in some of the most unlikely—and unprepossessing—packages, to fall in love with a pretty face, but nevertheless, she did.
And it seemed, after a few moments of inspection, the feeling was mutual. The mare sniffed at her hand, then her hair, and pronounced her acceptable with a soft whicker. By the time Jessie finished rubbing beneath the horse's jaw, and puffing air at her nose, the bond was complete, and Ghost nuzzled Jessie eagerly.
She wasn't used to the English saddle, but she'd ridden on them a few times in her life, and the adjustments necessary came back quickly. It felt odd to have a groom beside her, adjusting stirrup length and checking the cinch—or girth, she supposed, on this rig—for her, but simply being astride a horse again was worth just about any price.
For one used to the wilds of Colorado, this ride over exquisitely groomed grounds on carefully maintained paths seemed tame. But when they reached a straight stretch and Lucas signaled this was a good place to let them run, she gloried in the gray's smooth, effortless stride, and the pure joy in running the horse transmitted to her through the reins. The black loped alongside them, but she was fairly sure Lucas was keeping him in check to keep from outpacing them. The mare was fast, but Jessie doubted she could match the black.
When she felt the all-out charge begin to slow, Jessie gradually reined the mare in. Lucas slowed the black, as well, and although the stallion made a brief protest with a toss of his head, he gave in and settled into a walk easily enough.
Exhilarated, Jessie smiled broadly at Lucas. "Thank you," she said, meaning it with all her heart.
"It's not good for you not to be on a horse for too long," he said.
"Thank you, doctor," she said with a laugh. "I like your medicine."
For a moment it looked as if he was going to say something serious, and she held her breath, waiting for him to ruin this special moment by bringing up what she didn't want to talk about just now.
He didn't do it. Instead, he led the way toward the sea.
When they reached a narrow, less defined trail along the cliffs, she couldn't deny the vast panorama of the sparkling Mediterranean before them, as breathtaking in its own way as her beloved Rockies. A salt-tanged breeze blew up the cliff face toward them, stirring her hair and the gray's mane.
"Is this all your land?" she asked, gesturing toward the cliffs, then back in the direction of the palace.
"Yes. This entire tip of the island. It's been part of the palace grounds since it was built. So while we don't have your acreage, we don't feel cramped, either."
"Does being on an island ever see
m...."
"Isolated?" he asked when she didn't finish. "Sometimes. But that's as often a good thing as bad. We avoid some problems other countries can't. And we can be in a major hub of the world in a fairly short time, so no, it rarely bothers us."
She wondered if he was aware he'd answered in the plural, as if he spoke for all Montebellans. And then she realized that he probably did. As their prince, if he was the kind of leader his father seemed to be, he would know how the people felt.
"Now that you've seen the palace and most of the grounds, I'd like to show you the rest of Montebello," Lucas said.
This was what she'd come for, what she'd agreed to, so Jessie made herself nod and say, "All right." "And tonight," Lucas said, "you'll get the chance to meet Julia and Rashid. They're flying in for dinner." Panic flooded her at the thought. It was too much. Dinner with a king, a queen, two princes and a princess? She
was plain old Jessie Chambers, of Shady Rock, Colorado. She had no business sitting down with royalty. That this was hardly the view of an egalitarian citizen of the U.S., who supposedly shouldn't see anything
special about royalty at all, didn't escape her. But it did nothing to ease her panic.
* * *
She was as skittish as a newborn foal with a predator circling, Lucas thought.
He'd tried to tell her no one in his family had bitten anyone in decades, tried to calm her by saying it was not a formal occasion but just a small family dinner in the breakfast room that she liked so much. It didn't seem to help much. And just when he'd almost gotten her calmed by telling her anything she wanted to wear was fine, Rashid's helicopter buzzed the palace and settled on the lawn, setting her off again.
Finally he left her to dress, figuring he was only making things worse by hovering. So instead, he went downstairs to greet his sister and brother-in-law.
Julia looked radiant. So radiant, Lucas wondered if perhaps his sister was pregnant again. His nephew, Omar, was ten months old now, and the way she and Rashid still acted like newly weds....
He stopped his own thoughts as a rueful realization struck him. He'd always looked upon displayed marital bliss with rather smug amusement, certain such a thing would never happen to him, that he would never become so besotted with a woman. And yet he had flown over twelve thousand miles to get Jessie and bring her here, and he was about out of his mind with worry that she wasn't ever going to change her mind.