A Prince For Sophie
Page 8
“I thank you, noble knights, for your fealty and homage. Please, do not let my presence interrupt your training.”
“With your permission, Your Highness.”
Sophie didn’t recognize the man. He’d left the ranks of those she knew to be hobbyists, and approached the viewing platform, stopping about ten feet away and bowing.
“Yes, Sir Knight?”
“Your Highness, I am Telford Gaynor. I traveled to your beautiful kingdom on a whim, for I’d heard that here, on this hallowed ground of a once-proud citadel, men of courage and heart could test their mettle and their strength. And I did not understand, until I arrived, the true reason for my pilgrimage from London Town. Now I must confess that guardian angels must have urged me to come, for I heard the words of the king’s proclamation and I knew in a heartbeat my true destiny. Your Highness, you are indeed a beauty to behold, as delicate and fine as any flower. It is my intention to not only join the competition, but to ultimately prevail, and win the grandest prize of all.”
It seemed to Sophie as if all other noise, all other activity had ceased. Telford Gaynor had the attention of the other knights, and the tourists around them. From his accent, and his formal way of speaking, she knew him to be British. Something about him struck a chord of familiarity. Yes, he was attractive—tall, broad shouldered, with hair the color of the purest honey, and eyes as blue as the ocean. She’d heard the volunteers who came here each year were dedicated to their role-playing, in the extreme. Telford Gaynor was obviously one of those. He’d given a very pretty speech, and seemed to lack no confidence. Tilting her head to one side, she decided to play along with his gambit.
“Sir Knight, your compliments are most appreciated, and I applaud your accomplishment in making such an arduous journey. What prize, pray tell, could inspire such fervor?”
His smile was intriguing, a combination of cheek and heat that actually sent a flutter through her belly. The sun chose that moment, she thought, to shine just a little more brightly, and on him alone. He took a half step forward before answering.
“Why, Princess Sophie Liana Maria de la Croix, that prize would be the one your father announced in his proclamation—your hand in marriage, of course.”
Chapter 10
“What do you mean a typographical error? How could there be such a typographical error? I want to see the original proclamation. Now, if you please.”
Alex wondered who this agitated, demanding young woman before him could be. It certainly wasn’t the daughter he knew, for he had never seen Sophie so animated.
“You question our word?” Michael’s haughty tone conveyed his insult.
Alex shook his head. In all the years he’d raised his children, he’d never had to act in the role of referee. It looked as if that was about to change. Sitting back, he watched as Sophie turned on her older brother and jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger.
“I have just had a man inform me that he intends to win me as a prize at a tournament. As if I was some sort of a…a…cupid doll.”
“That’s kewpie doll,” Peter corrected as he entered Alex’s office.
Alex was pleased to see his security chief and soon-to-be son-in-law adopt a more relaxed pose in his presence. Peter made himself comfortable in one of the visitors’ chairs and focused on the disagreement taking place.
Sophie’s expression darkened even more. “Kewpie, cupid, it does not matter. What matters is that I was standing there in front of this Telford Gaynor person and I felt like a complete fool because I did not know what he was talking about. I want to see that proclamation.”
Peter’s low whistle coincided with Michael’s shocked “Telford Gaynor?”
Alex raised one eyebrow, intrigued. He quickly smoothed his expression when Sophie spun to face him, her frustration plain. Picking up his telephone, he asked his secretary to bring him the original document that he’d signed just the day before. Then he turned his attention back to Michael and Peter, pinning them both with a piercing stare.
“Who is this Telford Gaynor?” he asked.
Peter answered immediately, rattling off the information as easily as if he were reading from a dossier. “One of the British dotcom moguls who parlayed the fortune he made in the early days of the Internet into an enormous empire that spans the globe. It’s rumored that he will supplant Bill Gates in the Number One slot on the list of the wealthiest men in the world this year. The press has dubbed him the man with the Midas touch.”
“You know, little sister, you could do much worse than to land such a husband.”
Alex cringed as that bit of brotherly wisdom echoed in his large office. Even Peter winced, looking at Michael as if he’d suddenly realized Boisdemer’s Crown Prince might have been dropped on his head as an infant. And then Sophie did something that Alex had never seen her do before, something he’d have been willing to bet she would never do.
She screamed in frustration.
Georges, his secretary, chose that moment to come through the door. Giving Sophie a wide berth, he brought the folder he carried to Alex’s desk. No one said a word until the man had departed.
“Here, ma belle. See for yourself.”
He watched Sophie as she read, and when she looked up and asked, “How could anyone mistake ‘the Princess Royal’s Standard’ for ‘the Princess Royal’s hand’?”
“I do not know.”
“Actually, not just one someone. That original document was faxed to every major wire service in the world from this office. And every single one of them has made the same error.” Peter said. Then he smiled at Sophie. “See? We are trying to get to the bottom of this mix up.”
Sophie wasn’t impressed. “Who faxed it?” she asked.
“Justin did,” Michael replied.
“Oh. Justin doesn’t make mistakes.”
“The man has been beside himself since we learned of the error,” Alex said quietly. “He absolutely swears that this is the document he sent out. As you can see, his initials are in the upper right hand corner.”
“And yet, every wire service has confirmed the copy they received. I’ve even had a few of them scan and send them to me. And sure enough, it says ‘hand’ instead of ‘standard’ on every single one.”
“Wait a minute,” Sophie said, shooting a startled look at Peter. “Did you say every wire service?”
“Europe and the Americas,” he confirmed cheerfully. Then he flashed her a smile, showing Alex that he’d already become Sophie’s brother at heart. “I expect you’re going to be fending off a whole slew of suitors. I’ll even bet some of the offers are going to be worth considering.”
“Are you out of your mind? You must be. But then, so is Telford Gaynor. Surely to God, the two of you must be the only ones. Grown men in this day and age could not possibly believe for one minute—”Sophie waived her arms as she spoke, her voice rising with each word.
The high emotion was back, and Alex was glad to see it. But she was still his little girl, and fatherly instinct to soothe and protect kicked in.
“Sophie?” When she stopped her pacing and gave him her attention, he said, “Despite the fact that there will be a medieval tournament, these are not medieval times. Rest assured that your ‘hand’ is not going to be offered as a prize in the tournament. And I doubt very much that any of the entrants is going to toss you over the back of his horse and carry you off into the sunset.”
“That could not happen anyway,” Michael said cheerfully. “The tournament is to take place mid-morning.”
“Michael.” Alex had the devil’s own time not laughing.
“I’m sorry. Sophie, Papa is right. No one can claim you as their prize.”
Alex marveled as his daughter folded her arms over her chest and gave all three of them a very stern stare.
Hardly appeased, Sophie shook her head. “Then someone had better inform Monsieur Gaynor of that fact. He seemed the sort who would entirely enjoy doing just that.”
* * * *
Since Saturday, all he and Sophie had been able to manage were quick kisses stolen at unexpected moments. Every plan they had made to get together had been thwarted, by one person or another. Oh, they’d seen each other every day. At meals. On tours that Michael had hastily arranged and Stephan’s parents had insisted he attend. Sophie had returned to her position at the orphanage yesterday, which limited the time they could scheme to meet.
Neither of them could understand, nor explain, their inability to stay awake long enough at night to manage a tryst. It was almost, Stephan thought whimsically, as if some supernatural force worked to keep them apart.
It was Wednesday, and Stephan had thought he’d be making arrangements to return home with his parents after Alex and Hannah’s wedding tomorrow night.
But he couldn’t return yet. He’d only tasted Sophie once, and he needed to love her again.
“That’s quite a frown you’re wearing there, Your Highness. Worried about the competition?”
Stephan turned, the mocking tone in Peter Jones’ voice briefly making him forget his annoyance. Until he replayed the man’s words through his mind and frowned in earnest.
“Competition?”
“You haven’t heard? That’s amazing, all things considered.”
“Perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me?”
Peter seemed to think about it for a moment. “No, I think I’ll let Sophie do that. You know, I’m surprised that with your background, you haven’t made a visit to the Children’s Home before now.”
Stephan raised one eyebrow, fully aware that the imperious gesture would have no effect whatsoever on the security chief. Peter’s inference was clear, and Stephan couldn’t keep the slight edge out of his voice.
“You had me investigated?”
“You were going to be spending several days under the same roof with everyone in the world that I love. Bet your ass I had you investigated. Funny how the tabloids keep harping about your playboy ways, and no one mentions your degree in psychology, or the fact that you work with troubled children and teens at home.”
“Being characterized as a playboy is better press.” And usually the thought didn’t sting. Stephan shook his head, impatient with himself and these peculiar moods he’d been falling into lately.
“There’s a black Mercedes out in the circular drive with the keys in it. Leave now and you’d have time enough for a tour. And then, of course, you could steal her away for a private lunch. Since she’s in charge of the place, there’s no one to tell her she can’t take the rest of the day off.”
“No arrangements have been made for such a visit,” Stephan replied, wondering why he hadn’t thought to ask Michael to do exactly that.
“Hell, if you’re going to let that stop you, I have no sympathy for you at all.”
Stephan watched as Peter walked away, his tone of mild disgust prickling his conscience.
He knew where the Home for Children was, as it had been pointed out to him just the day before when Michael had taken him to the military college. Taking himself off without notice to drop in and pay the school, and the administrator, a visit would be an unexpected move.
Stephan smiled. If it was unexpected, chances were no one would stop him. Spinning on his heel, he headed out.
* * * *
She didn’t want him to know she was there.
Hanging back from the entrance to the playroom, Sophie stood quietly and watched the crown prince of Montgermane as he sat on the floor at a round table and played. Beside him, wearing her customary somber face, Anna Colbert worked fastidiously at forming shapes with modeling clay.
“No matter how hard I try, I can never get the shape right.”
That confession from Stephan made Sophie smile.
“That’s all right. It doesn’t matter if what you are making doesn’t look like an elephant to anybody else. It’s your art and can be however you want it to be. That’s what my papa used to say.”
“Your papa sounds as if he was a very wise man.”
Sophie held her breath. Anna hadn’t spoken of her family since waking in the hospital, the lone survivor of a car accident that had taken her parents and younger brother nearly six months before.
“It was my fault. They’re all dead and it’s my fault.”
“Why do you say that?”
Sophie’s eyes widened, and she nearly stepped forward. Stephan couldn’t possibly know the importance of this moment. Yet something held her back, something in the tone of his question asked even as he continued to work with the modeling clay.
“Papa told me to leave Emile alone. He told me to sit still and be quiet. But I was so mad at my brother, I took his little truck from him and threw it on the floor of the car. Emile started to scream, and Papa yelled, and we crashed. It was my fault because I was bad.”
“I have a younger brother, and sometimes he would make me so mad I wanted to throw something at him.”
“But you didn’t make your Papa have a car crash.”
“No, I didn’t. And neither did you. Your teacher, Xavière, told me about your car accident. It was not your fault, petite. A man in another car driving on the autobahn was drunk.”
Anna’s eyes widened and true horror filled her face. “You’re not supposed to drive when you are drunk!” It was the most impassioned sentence Sophie had ever heard the little girl speak.
“You’re right. The gendarmes think that the man fell asleep, which was why his car crashed into yours. He was arrested after he got out of the hospital. He is going to be spending a very long time in jail.”
Sophie’s vision blurred as Stephan turned to the little girl. He touched her cheek gently and Anna looked up at him, hanging on his every word. “It was wrong to taunt your brother when your papa told you to leave him be. But that did not cause the accident. And I think your papa, and your mama too, would be very sad if they knew you thought so. Do you know what else I believe? I believe their hearts would be filled with joy that you survived the crash, that you’re well. They would want you to be happy, too.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. If you don’t believe me, just ask Princess Sophie.”
They both looked at her at the same moment. Despite her own tears, Sophie smiled and went to them. She sat on the floor on the other side of Anna. Instead of talking, though, she simply opened her arms to the child. As Anna’s tears soaked her shoulder, Sophie held her tight, and met Stephan’s gaze.
He shook his head gently, but smiled. One masculine hand stroked a small female head, and Sophie thought she’d never seen a more compassionate gesture.
* * * *
“How did you know?”
“How did I know what?” Stephan asked. He had accompanied Sophie back to her office, once they’d turned an exhausted Anna over to one of the volunteers. The grandmotherly woman had put her arm around the little girl, snuggled her in, and assured Sophie that she’d be just fine.
“What to say to Anna. We’ve been trying to reach her for months. None of us have been successful.”
“She wasn’t ready then. Today she was.”
“I don’t think you understand—”
“Yes, I do.” Stephan took Sophie’s hand, brought it to his lips. “I came here to see if I could entice the headmistress to join me for lunch.”
“It isn’t really lunch you want.”
He laughed, delighted with her teasing. Wrapping his arms around her, he said, “It is lunch I want. With you on the menu. Main course and dessert.” A wave of need washed through him, and he tightened his hold on her, even as his smile sobered. “There are so many things I want to do with you. To you.” It pleased
him enormously not only that she seemed flustered, but also so obviously aroused. He could smell her heat, a fragrance that screamed to all his senses, demanding that he take what belonged to him, what had belonged to no other. His mood had shifted again, damn it, and he didn’t truly know what to do with these fierce compulsions. He stepped back, took her hand, and began to lead her out of her office. They would have lunch somewhere quiet. Then they’d see if they could find a nice, private spot. Somewhere. Anywhere.
“You shouldn’t talk like that. You’re leaving after father’s wedding tomorrow, and we haven’t had much luck getting together, lately. Perhaps it’s for the best.”
“What if I decide to extend my visit?”
“Then you could help fend off the crazed would-be knights, should the need arise.”
He’d pushed open the door to the outside, and was about to ask her what she meant by that odd remark. He didn’t get the chance.
A veritable sea of paparazzi pressed forward, shouting questions as flashes exploded before their eyes. It was his instinctive reaction to shield Sophie by pulling her behind him. The muscles of his face drew taut, and as used as he was to the attention and scrutiny of the world’s media, he wondered if this time he was about to lose his temper.
“Prince Stephan, is it true that your father has threatened to disown you if you don’t enter the tournament?”
“Princess Sophie, how do you feel about being offered up as a prize to the winner?”
Stephan gauged his chances, then shot a look over his shoulder. “Do you want to run for it?”
“Yes, please.”
Facing the crowd, he ordered, “Out of the way!”
He’d been counting on his uncharacteristically fierce expression to clear a path. As soon as a space opened, he surged forward, pulling Sophie after him. It took only moments to get her into the car. Ignoring the reporters who’d mounted a new offensive, he got behind the wheel, fired the engine, and stepped on the gas.