Prince and Single Mom

by Morgan Ashbury

  * * * *

  “My mom’s pretty upset. I should go be with her.” Catharine stood scowling at the man pouring drinks. Philip had hastily introduced him as his brother Michael, just before he hurried off to help his father get de-pasta-fied.

  Michael handed her a glass of wine. “Why not let your brother have a few minutes of her time, Catharine? You’ve had her for the past ten years. He has not.”

  “And whose fault is that?” She knew she sounded pissy. She felt pissy. Actually, she felt like a traitor in the enemy camp. Looking around, she couldn’t see her son. Her eyes flew open wide. My God, what kind of a mother am I? I completely forgot about my son.

  “Where’s Jamie?”

  “He is in the second bedroom, watching a cartoon about a moose and a squirrel, and laughing uproariously.”

  Catharine felt herself soften against his smile, when she’s promised herself she wouldn’t give these royal men any quarter. Philip had pulled her into one hell of a mess, and then left her here to deal with it alone. He’d deserted her, the rat! And didn’t that just go to prove that men could not be trusted!

  A bedroom door opened, and Alex and Philip stepped into the room. Alex nodded to Michael, then faced Catharine.

  “I owe you an apology as well, my dear,” he said quietly, “and an explanation.”

  What was it about the men in this family that totally disarmed her? Why couldn’t she hang on to her usual hard-ass attitude around any of them? “That’s funny, because I’m torn between twin desires to apologize for what my mother did to you—and to wish I’d helped her.”

  Alex laughed, and he motioned to the sofa. “Please, come and sit down.”

  She did, and waited while Michael served his father a glass of wine. Philip took a seat beside her, and when he reached for her hand, she let him hold it.

  “I never set out to deceive anyone. I come here each year, and while the staff knows who I am, the guests, who are mostly from other countries, do not. Usually, I keep to myself, and use the time to rest and read, swim or go on walks. I never socialize, or rather, I didn’t, until this year.” He sat back against the sofa, his expression earnest, and a bit baffled and sad.

  She reminded herself that until she’d discovered him to be Philip’s father, and the king of Boisdemer, she’d liked Alex—a lot. Why should that change because of a label? Hadn’t she lived most of the last six years deeply resenting the way she’d been treated because of a label?

  “I was so happy when I realized you and Mom had found each other. She’s never dated, not once, since my dad died. Do you understand that she has strong feelings for you? She hasn’t discussed them with me, but I can see them in her eyes. I also know that she’s very hurt right now. Honesty has always been a huge thing with her.” Catharine paused as Jamie came out of the bedroom. When he sandwiched himself between her and Philip, she let go Philip’s hand to hold her son’s. Surprisingly, Jamie took her hand but laid his head against Philip’s side. That Philip accepted his gesture of affection, and put a protective arm around him, surprised her even more.

  “I know,” Alex said. “I have feelings for her, too, Catharine. Feelings that are deep, and honorable. I’m going to work at making things right between us.”

  “You don’t owe me any more explanations, Your Majesty.”

  “Please—when we are alone, or among family, I would be grateful if you would call me Alex. Or,” his eyes twinkled when he looked at Jamie and Philip, “Papa.”

  The door to the suite slammed. “Well, if she doesn’t want any further explanations, I’ll take them.”

  Catharine’s head turned sharply so she could look at her brother. “You!”

  Surging to her feet she marched right up to him and poked him in the chest hard. “I promised myself that if I ever saw you again I would punch you right in the damn face! You had a hell of a nerve taking off and hurting mom that way!”

  “Well, you’re certainly entitled, baby sister. So go ahead, give it your best shot.”

  He stood there, so Catharine pulled her arm back.

  “No, Mommy! You said hitting was never ever right! You said!” Jamie had jumped up and tugged on her other arm. The men of the de la Croix family proved their intelligence in that moment by staying out of it.

  She looked down at her son, and placed a hand on his head. “You’re right, Jamie. Hitting is never right.”

  “So hug me instead,” her brother said, opening his arms.

  She looked at him a long moment before taking one step forward. This was her brother, someone who’d hovered in her memory for years. In many ways a stranger, but family none-the-less.

  The strength of his embrace surprised her.

  “Who are you?” Jamie asked.

  Catharine looked down and saw the protective and suspicious stance her son had taken. He’s growing up so fast.

  “I’m your Uncle Peter. It’s nice to meet you, Jamie.”

  “The black sheep.” Jamie’s awed whisper, loud enough for all to hear, proved much more effective than a punch in the face.

  “Yeah,” Peter replied, shooting his sister a considering look, “I guess I am.”

  “Well,” Alex stood, “we seem to have managed to come to a point of calm.” His expression, when he looked at Peter, made Catharine suspect he respected him, maybe even thought of him as another son.

  “How is your mother?”

  “Emotional. And not too happy with you at the moment. Sir.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Jamie and I need to go see to her.” Catharine needed to get out of this testosterone-laden area. She wanted to retreat, try to find her defenses, and erect them again.

  “Kate, you and I…”

  “No. Philip, I can’t…not now, okay?”

  “If not now, when? In case you haven’t noticed, no one is planning on—how did you say it? —running you out of town on a rail.” He’d come up off the sofa and taken one step toward her. Peter, she noticed, took a step to the side, as if he intended to protect her. And wasn’t that a joke?

  It was all too much. She felt as if she were in the middle of some sort of drawing-room comedy. How could any of this get resolved? She’d heard Philip’s “I love you” tossed out casually as they’d been speeding toward the resort. And oh, how she wanted to grab onto that with both hands and hold on tight. But how could she? Hadn’t the last six years taught her anything? Hadn’t her life taught her anything? Her father had never really been emotionally available to her, Peter had deserted her, and that snake-in-men’s-clothing William Corey had said he loved her, promising her a shiny new life as his wife while all the time he’d already been married and only used her for sex. Once more the brass ring dangled in sight, and she didn’t think she had it in her to reach for it. Because if this time she ended up alone, it might destroy her completely. Her vision blurred, and all she wanted was to escape.

  “Stop! Just…stop, will you?”

  Taking Jamie’s hand, she fled the suite. And a part of her wished she could just go back home, and pretend the last week had never happened.

  * * * *

  “Well, hell!” Eugenia crossed her arms and gave the men in the king’s suite a good solid frown. The fact that none of them could see her didn’t bother her one bit.

  “Sister! Such language!” Gwendolyn’s hands had flown to her reddening cheeks.

  Eugenia sighed in disgust. “You’re right. We mustn’t forget who we are, even when matters seem most dire.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “Well,” Eugenia walked over and looked at Philip, her sympathy strong as he ran his hands through his hair then turned with anguished eyes to his father. “I think in times such as these there really is only one thing to do.”

  “And that is?”

  “Cross our fingers and hope. Magic has its limits. We brought everyone together. This last step is up to them.”

  Gwendolyn’s own sigh sounded discouraged. “In that case, I think w
e should cross our toes, too.”

  Chapter 18

  Hannah had lost count of the number of times in her life she’d been forced to swallow her pride and act in the best interests of her family. She supposed such behavior made up part of the definition of motherhood. Over all, she’d never minded. When the children had been young, life had been too full of the doing to find the time to resent what couldn’t be changed.

  Her children might not be children any longer. But that didn’t mean her role as parent had ended. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  The last week had been filled with adventure, and she’d been given a taste of something wonderful. She’d forgotten the beauty of those first moments of being in love. With Jordan, that love had gradually evolved into a kind of friendship with definite limits. She’d given far more than she’d ever received in her marriage. She couldn’t change what had been, nor could she in any sense regret it.

  With Alex, she’d been given so much—certainly more than she’d given him in return. Catharine had told her Alex felt very bad about lying. Maybe he did. That wasn’t something Hannah could think about at the moment. Perhaps later, when the sense of having been betrayed and played for a fool faded a bit.

  She could only focus on her daughter right now. It would be hard, very hard, to return home alone. To know that if she wanted to see Catharine and Jamie, she would have to get on a plane and cross an ocean.

  But oh, hadn’t her prayer for them been answered in a huge way? Philip was perfect for her daughter and grandson, in every way. Now she just needed to convince Catharine of that.

  Even though both Catharine and Jamie slept soundly, she moved quietly as she left the suite. She wasn’t sure how to proceed. Perhaps she could call the hospital, find out when Philip would be on duty next, then go and talk to him. If she had to, she’d knock on Alex’s door. She knew if it meant her daughter’s happiness, she could set her pride aside and do that.

  Maybe she really did have a fairy godmother, for as she closed the door and looked up, Philip approached.

  “Hannah.”

  “I was just going to come looking for you.”

  Surprised and pleased when he hugged her, she hugged him back and led him to the sitting area next to the pool.

  “My father erred, ah, under the circumstances, not revealing his identity to you. He acknowledges his error, and he’d like the chance to apologize to you. Face to face.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready for that, Philip.” She saw the sadness in his eyes and touched his hand. “I’m going to ask you what your intentions are toward my daughter, and that feels very strange.”

  Philip’s chuckle held no humor. “I love her, Hannah, and I want to marry her.”

  “She comes as a package deal. Some men might resent the presence of another man’s son.”

  Philip’s eyes widened. “No, oh no. I love Jamie! He’s a wonderful little boy. When I think of that bastard, refusing to even acknowledge his own son…”

  Hannah had all the answers she needed.

  “She has a hard head, my daughter. You’re going to have to find a way to drill through it.”

  When Philip smiled, Hannah could see he would be difficult for even Catharine to resist.

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I have a plan. It is, perhaps, over the top. But I honestly believe it is the only thing I can do. It…it will mean that you will have to come face to face with Papa.”

  Well, she’d already been prepared to do just that, hadn’t she? Reaching over, she took Philip’s hand, and squeezed. “Tell me what I have to do.”

  * * * *

  The knocking awakened her.

  Blinking, Catharine sat up slowly, trying to rub the grit out of her eyes at the same time she looked toward the bedside clock.

  “Eleven-fifteen! Wow, talk about sleeping in!”

  The sound of pounding came again. Frowning, she swept the blankets off, and grabbed her robe. Opening her bedroom door, she knew right away her mother and son had left. Tying her robe, she took a moment to check through the security viewer to see who was there.

  Confused, she opened the door.

  “Rachel?” At least she thought it was Rachel. Dressed in what appeared to be a medieval gown, she didn’t look too happy.

  “Bonjour, Catharine. It’s about time you opened the door. I thought I would have to have Andre break it down.”

  Catharine stepped back, because Rachel, followed by the stable master, also dressed in costume and carrying a large box, pushed into the room.

  Coming to her senses she put her hands on her hips. “Look, if Philip has sent you here to plead his case, he’s wasting his time.”

  “Do you think I love my brother so dearly that I would come pounding on your door dressed like this? Ha, you don’t know me very well. I am not here because of Philip. I am here by order of His Majesty, King Alexandre Michel Philippe Artur de la Croix, Sovereign King of Boisdemer. Andre, read the decree, if you will.”

  Catharine wondered if she looked as confused as she felt. Andre, who also didn’t appear overjoyed to be dressed in what looked like doublet and tights, set down the large box, then pulled a scroll out of his pocket. Opening it, he began to read.

  “Catharine Marie Jones, you are hereby commanded to present yourself forthwith to His Majesty, King Alexandre Michel Philippe Artur de la Croix, and a gathering of the just and noble of the Kingdom of Boisdemer, at the first Fortress, also known as the Citadel, dressed in appropriate garb, and there to give answer to a certain petition to be presented to His Majesty by a true and loyal vassal of the realm.”

  “Is this some kind of joke? I’m not going anywhere.” Catharine didn’t know what Philip could be up to, but she’d be damned if she would go on display in any way, shape, or form.

  “This seems like a joke,” Rachel agreed.

  Then her expression sobered, and Catharine wondered again at the basic sadness she could see in the princess’ eyes.

  “But it is not, Catharine. While I sympathize with your reluctance to comply, you cannot refuse. This is a true and valid order of the king. It has all the force of law. You must obey.”

  Catharine ran her hands through her hair, her frustration so strong she wanted to scream.

  So she did.

  “Fine, I’ll obey. Wait a minute.” She was going to kick herself. For the second time in as many days her son had slipped her mind. “Where are Jamie and my mother?”

  “Waiting for you at the Fortress.”

  “Fine,” she said again. Even knowing it a petulant and mean spirited urge, she wanted to stomp her foot. Then she scooped up the box and marched toward her bedroom. She would shower, and dress, and play her role in this farce.

  Then she would see what she could do about catching the next flight home.

  * * * *

  Philip knocked on the open door of the small room, and nodded to Hannah and Jamie. “Could you let me have a few moments alone with him, please?” he asked Hannah.

  “Of course.” Hannah left the door open when she exited, making it clear she was going to wait in the hall, where she could hear every word.

  That didn’t bother him one bit.

  “Hey Philip, you’re dressed up too, just like Grandma and me. This is cool!”

  Philip laughed and sat down on one of the chairs putting him at eye-level with Jamie. “Yeah, it is. Let’s hope your mom thinks so, too. Anyway, I got the idea from you.”

  “From me? Really?”

  “Really. I needed to talk to you, Jamie, because I know that it’s been just you and your mom for a long time now. You see, I love your mother. And I very much want to marry her, to be a husband to her, and a father to you. I need to know if that’s all right with you?”

  Jamie considered the matter for a moment. “You’re going to have to kiss her all the time, because that’s what my Uncle Craig does to Auntie Pam, and they’re married.”

  “I think I can manage that.”

  The b
oy nodded solemnly, but his expression was still troubled. “But what if…” when he stopped, Philip reached over, and gently raised his lowered head.

  “What if what, sweetheart?”

  “What if you get tired of being my dad?”

  “Oh, Jamie.” Philip pulled the boy into a hug. “I swear to you I will never ever get tired of being your dad. I love you just as I love your mother. And I promise, no matter what, I will always be there for you, and your mom.”

  “Would it be okay if I called you Dad?”

  “Yes.” Philip felt his eyes mist, and he knew that this was one of the most precious moments of his life, one he would never forget. “I would be very happy, and very honored, if you would call me Dad.”

  “Okay.”

  Philip’s heart soared when Jamie put his arms around him. He only prayed that things went as well with Kate.

  * * * *

  “Hannah.”

  She looked up as she stepped out onto the balcony of the fortress. She might have been uncomfortable, dressed as she was, if everyone around her weren’t also in full medieval garb. She ran her hands down the royal blue velvet, enjoying the softness of the garment. The sun sparkled on the silver belt that circled her waist. The white linen of her wimple caught in the breeze.

  Then her eye was drawn to Alex.

  She tried not to think about how handsome he looked in robes of deep purple and a shining golden crown.

  “Hello, Alex.”

  “Thank you, for this.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips.

  Her heart began to melt, but she steeled her resolve. “This is for my daughter, and your son. And Jamie.”

  “Perhaps, you will find it in your heart to give me some of your time, later?”

  “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

  It was the best she could do. The clarion call of trumpets saved her from saying anything more.

  “Your daughter has arrived.” Alex offered her his arm in a courtly gesture made even more fitting by the costumes they wore, lady and sovereign. “Shall we?”