Princess in the Making

by Michelle Celmer

  Marcus’s mother had confided once, a long time ago, that she and his father had hoped to have a large family, but due to complications from Marcus’s birth—details she’d mercifully left out—more children became an impossibility. Maybe he saw this as his chance to start the family he always wanted but could never have. Because surely someone as adept at parenting as Vanessa would want more children.

  Or maybe he saw what Marcus had seen today. A woman who was smart and funny and a little bizarre. And of course beautiful.

  So much so that you had to buy her a present?

  He reached the opposite end of the pool, debated stopping, then flipped over and pushed off one last time.

  He really had no idea why he’d bought Vanessa the earrings. But as they were on their way back to the palace and he saw the shop, he heard himself asking the driver to stop, and before he knew what he was doing, he was inside, handing over his Visa card, and the clerk was bagging his purchase.

  Maybe he and Vanessa had made some sort of…connection. But that wasn’t even the point, because what he’d told her was true. If his father had seen her admiring the earrings he would have purchased them on the spot. Marcus did it to please his father and nothing more.

  But the surprise on her face when she opened the bag and realized what was inside…

  She looked so impressed and so grateful, he worried that she might burst into tears. That would have been really awful, because there was nothing worse than a woman in the throes of an emotional meltdown. And all for such a simple and inexpensive gift. If her only concern was wealth, wouldn’t she have balked at anything but diamonds or precious gems? And if she were using his father, why would she admit that she wasn’t in love with him? Why would she have discussed it at all?

  Maybe, subconsciously, he’d seen it as some sort of test. One that she had passed with flying colors.

  Marcus reached the opposite edge and hoisted himself up out of the water, slicking his hair back, annoyed that he was wasting any time debating this with himself.

  He sighed and squinted at the sun, which hung close to the horizon, a reddish-orange globe against the darkening sky. The evening breeze cooled his wet skin. The fact of the matter was, though he didn’t want to like Vanessa, he couldn’t seem to help himself. He’d never met anyone quite like her.

  From the table where he’d left it, his cell phone began to ring. Thinking it could be his father with an update about Aunt Trina, he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the phone, but when he saw the number he cursed under his breath. He wasn’t interested in anything his ex had to say, and after three weeks of avoiding her incessant phone calls and text messages, he would have expected that she’d gotten the point by now.

  Apparently not. Leaving him to wonder what it was he’d seen in her in the first place. How could someone who had bewitched him so thoroughly now annoy him so completely?

  Aggressive women had never really been Marcus’s first choice in a potential mate. But sexy, sultry and with a body to die for, Carmela had pursued him with a determination that put other women to shame. She was everything he could have wanted in a wife, or so he believed, and because she came from a family of considerable wealth and power, he never once worried that she was after his money. Six months in he’d begun to think about engagement rings and wedding arrangements, only to discover that he’d been terribly wrong about her. And though the first week after the split had been difficult, he’d gradually begun to realize his feelings for her were based more on infatuation and lust than real love. His only explanation was that he’d been emotionally compromised by his mother’s death. And the fact that she had taken advantage of that was, in his opinion, despicable. And unforgivable.

  He shuddered to think what would have happened had he actually proposed, or God forbid married her. And he was disappointed in himself that he’d let it go as far as he had, that he’d been so blinded by her sexual prowess. And honestly, the actual sex wasn’t that great. Physically, she gave him everything he could ask for and more, but emotionally their encounters had left him feeling…empty. Maybe it had been an unconscious need for a deeper connection that had kept him coming back for more, but now, looking back, he could hardly believe what a fool he’d been.

  His text message alert chimed, and of course it was from her.

  “Enough already,” he ground out, turning on his heel and flinging his cell phone into the pool. Only when he looked up past the pool to the garden path did he realize that he had an audience.

  * * *

  Vanessa stood on the garden path watching Marcus’s cell phone hit the surface of the water, then slowly sink down, until it was nothing but a murky shadow against the tile bottom.

  “You know,” she told Marcus, who clearly hadn’t realized that she was standing there, “I have that same impulse nearly every day of my life. Although I usually imagine tossing it off the roof of the hotel, or under the wheels of a passing semi.”

  He sighed and raked a hand through his wet hair, the last remnants of evening sunshine casting a warm glow over his muscular arms and chest, his toned to perfection thighs. And though the Speedo covered the essentials, it was wet and clingy and awfully…well, revealing.

  Ugh, what was she, twelve? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen a mostly naked man before. Or a completely naked one for that matter. Of course, none of them had been quite so…yummy.

  Remember, this is your almost fiancé’s son you’re ogling. The thought filled her with guilt. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but she did feel a mild twinge.

  “That was childish of me,” he said, looking as if he were disappointed in himself.

  “But did it feel good?” she asked.

  He hesitated, then a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it did. And I needed a new one anyway.”

  “Then it’s worth it.”

  “What are you doing out here?” He grabbed his towel from the table and began to dry himself. His arms, his pecs, the wall of his chest…

  Oh boy. What she wouldn’t give to be that towel right now.

  Think son-in-law, Vanessa.

  “Mia went down early, and I was feeling a little restless,” she told him. “I thought I would take a walk.”

  “After all the walking we did today? You should be exhausted.”

  “I’m on my feet all day every day. Today was a cakewalk. Plus I’m trying to acclimate myself to the time change. If I go to bed too early I’ll never adjust. And for the record, I am exhausted. I haven’t slept well since I got here.”

  “Why not?” He draped the towel over the back of a chair, then took a seat, leaning casually back, with not a hint of shame. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, and there was nothing more appealing than a man so comfortable in his own skin. Especially one who looked as good as he did.

  “I keep waking up and listening for Mia, then I remember that she’s down the hall. And of course I feel compelled to get up and go check on her. Then it’s hard to get back to sleep. I thought a walk might relax me.”

  “Why don’t you join me for a drink?” he said. “It might take the edge off.”

  She’d never been one to drink very often, and lately, with an infant in her care, she’d more or less stopped altogether. But now there was a nanny to take over if Vanessa needed her. Maybe it would be okay, just this once, to let her hair down a little.

  And maybe Marcus would put some clothes on.

  “Yeah, sure. I’d love one,” she told him, and as if by magic, or probably ESP, the butler materialized from a set of French doors that led to…well, honestly, she wasn’t sure where they led. She had gone out a side door to the garden, one patrolled by armed guards. She probably wouldn’t have been able to find even that if Camille hadn’t shown her the way. The palace had more twists and turns than a carnival fun house.

  “What would you like?” Marcus asked.

  “What do you have?”

  “We have a fully stocked bar. George can make anything yo
u desire.”

  She summoned a list of drinks that she used to enjoy, and told George, “How about…a vodka tonic with a twist of lime?”

  George nodded, turned to Marcus, and in a voice as craggy and old as the man said, “Your highness?”

  “The same for me. And could you please let Cleo know that I’ll be needing a new phone, and a new number.”

  George nodded and limped off, looking as if every step took a great deal of effort.

  Vanessa took a seat across from Marcus and when George was out of earshot asked, “How old is he?”

  “I’m really not sure. Eighties, nineties. All I know is that he’s been with the family since my father was a child.”

  “He looks as if he has a hard time getting around.”

  “He has rheumatoid arthritis. And though his staff does most of the real work these days, I assure you he’s still quite capable, and has no desire to retire anytime soon. Honestly, I don’t think he has anywhere else to go. As far as I’m aware, he’s never been married. He has no children. We’re his only family.”

  “That’s kind of sad,” Vanessa said, feeling a sudden burst of sympathy for the cranky old butler. She couldn’t imagine being so alone in the world. Or maybe he didn’t see it that way. Maybe his career, his attachments with the royal family and the other staff, were all the fulfillment he needed.

  “If you’ll excuse me a moment,” Marcus said, rising from his seat. “I should probably go change before I catch a chill.”

  She had wanted him to put clothes on, but she couldn’t deny being slightly disappointed. But the blistering heat of the afternoon did seem to be evaporating with the setting sun, and a cool breeze had taken its place.

  While he was gone, Vanessa slipped her sandals off and walked over to the pool. She sat on the edge, dipping her feet in water warm enough to bathe in. She’d never been much of a swimmer—or into any sort of exercise, despite how many times her father had pushed her to try different sports and activities. She had the athletic prowess of a brick, and about as much grace. And firearms being his passion, he’d tried relentlessly to get her on the firing range. He’d gone as far as to get her a hunting rifle for her fourteenth birthday, but guns scared her half to death and she’d refused to even touch it. She’d often entertained the idea that he would have been much happier with a son, and had someone offered a trade, he’d have jumped at the chance.

  As the last vestiges of daylight dissolved into the horizon and the garden and pool lights switched on, Vanessa noticed the shadow of Marcus’s cell phone, wondering what—or who—had driven him to chuck it into the water. From what Gabriel had told her, Marcus was even-tempered and composed, so whatever it was must have really upset him.

  She sighed, wondering what Gabriel was doing just then. Probably sitting at the hospital, where he spent the majority of his day. Trina was still very sick, but responding to the treatment, and the doctors were cautiously optimistic that she would make a full recovery. Though Vanessa felt selfish for even thinking it, she hoped that meant Gabriel would be home soon. She wanted to get her life back on track and plan her future, because at the moment she’d never felt more unsettled or restless. And it wasn’t fair to Mia to keep her living in limbo, although to be honest she seemed no worse for wear.

  “Your drink,” Marcus said, and the sound of his voice made her jump.

  She turned to find him dressed in khaki shorts and a pale silk, short sleeved shirt, that could have been gray or light blue. It was difficult to tell in the muted light.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He handed her one of the two glasses he was holding and sat next to her on the edge, slipping his bare feet into the water beside hers. He was so close, she could smell chlorine on his skin, and if she were to move her leg just an inch to the right, her thigh would touch his. For some reason the idea of actually doing it made her heart beat faster. Not that she ever would.

  Eight

  “I guess I was lost in thought,” she said. “When I talked to Gabriel today he said that your aunt is responding to the treatment.”

  Marcus nodded, sipping his drink, then setting it on the tile beside him. “I spoke with him this afternoon. He said they’re optimistic.”

  “I was kind of hoping that meant he would be home sooner. Which is pretty thoughtless, I know.” She took a swallow of her drink and her eyes nearly crossed as it slid down her throat, instantly warming her insides. “Wow! That’s strong.”

  “Would you care for something different?”

  “No, I like it.” She took another sip, but a smaller one this time. “It has kick, but the vodka is very…I don’t know, smooth, I guess.”

  “George only stocks the best. And for the record, you’re not thoughtless. I would say that you’ve been tremendously patient given the circumstances. Had it been me, considering my less than warm greeting, I probably would have turned around and gotten back on the plane.”

  “If it hadn’t been for Mia, I might have. But another thirteen hours in the air would have done me in for sure.”

  Marcus was quiet for a minute, gazing at the water and the ripples their feet made on the surface. Then he mumbled something that sounded like a curse and shook his head.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked him.

  “Your proclivity toward brutal honesty must be rubbing off on me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, and I would be breaking a confidence in doing so, but I feel as if you deserve the truth.”

  Vanessa’s heart sank a little. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”

  “My father told me that he would likely be three or four weeks. He didn’t want you to know for fear that you wouldn’t stay. It’s why he wanted me to keep you entertained.”

  Her heart bottomed out. “But my visit will only be for six weeks. Which will leave us only two or three to get to know one another better.”

  What if that wasn’t enough time?

  Marcus shrugged. “So you’ll stay longer.”

  Feeling hurt and betrayed, her nerves back on edge, Vanessa took another swallow of her drink. If Gabriel lied about this, what else was he lying about? “I can’t stay longer. My leave from work is only six weeks. If I don’t go back I’ll get fired. Until I know for sure whether I’m staying here, I need that job. Otherwise I would have nothing to go back for. I have very little savings. Mia and I would essentially be on the streets.”

  “My father is a noble man,” Marcus said. “Even if you decided not to marry him, he would never allow that to happen. He would see that you were taken care of.”

  “If he’s so noble why would he lie to me in the first place?”

  “He only did it because he cares for you.”

  It was a moot point because she would never take his charity. And even if she would, there was no guarantee that Gabriel would be so generous.

  Marcus must have read her mind, because he added, “If he didn’t see that you were taken care of, I would.”

  His words stunned her. “Why? As of this afternoon, you still believed that I’m using him.”

  “I guess you could say that I’ve had a change of heart.”

  “But, why?”

  His laugh was rich and warm and seemed to come from deep within him. “You perplex me, Vanessa. You tell me that I should give you a chance, but when I do, you question my motives. Perhaps it’s you who needs to give me a chance.”

  She had indeed said that. “You’re right. I guess I’m just feeling very out of sorts right now.” She touched his arm lightly, found it to be warm and solid under her palm. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked at her hand resting on his forearm, then up into her eyes, and said, “Apology accepted.”

  There was something in their sooty depths, some emotion that made her heart flip in her chest, and suddenly she felt warm all over.

  It’s just the vodka, she assured herself, easing her hand away and taking a
deep swallow from her glass.

  “Would you care for another?” Marcus asked.

  She looked down and realized that her glass was empty, while his was still more than half full.

  “I probably shouldn’t,” she said, feeling her muscles slacken with the warm glow of inebriation. It was the most relaxed she had felt in weeks. Would one more drink be such a bad thing? In light of what she’d just learned, didn’t she deserve it? With Mia in the care of her nanny, what reason did Vanessa have to stop? “But what the hell, why not? It’s not as if I have to drive home, right?”

  Marcus gestured randomly and George must have been watching for it—which to her was slightly creepy—because moments later he appeared with a fresh drink. And either this one wasn’t as strong, or the first had numbed her to the intensity of the vodka. Whatever the reason, she drank liberally.

  “So, would I be overstepping my bounds to ask why you drowned your phone?” Vanessa said.

  “A persistent ex-lover.”

  “I take it you dumped her.”

  “Yes, but only after I caught her in the backseat of the limo with my best friend.”

  “Ouch. Were they…you know…”

  “Yes. Quite enthusiastically.”

  She winced. So he’d lost his mother, his girlfriend and his best friend. How sucky was that? “I’m sorry.”

  He slowly kicked his feet back and forth through the water, the side of his left foot brushing against her right one. She had to force herself not to jump in surprise.

  “Each tried to pin it on the other. She’s still trying to convince me that he lured her there under false pretenses, and once he had her in the car he more or less attacked her.”

  She let her foot drift slightly to the left, to see if it would happen again. “She cried rape?”

  “More or less.”

  “What did your friend say?”

  “That she lured him into the car, and she made the first move.”