Finally, on their one week anniversary, he had a chance to spend a few minutes on Google, looking for conversation starter questions he could use to try to pull Jessabelle out of her shell, at least a little bit.
He found some and read them carefully. No need to have notes at dinner. It had been an unusually warm day, so Malachi decided they should have their meal on the balcony outside their room. He held her chair for her as she sat down. He noticed that her appetite was much greater than he had thought that first night before she asked for help with the corset.
As they neared the end of their salads, he started with one of the questions. “I want to get to know you better, Jessabelle. Would you answer questions to help us learn more about each other?”
She pushed a piece of lettuce around her plate. “I can try, I guess.”
Not ringing enthusiasm, but he would take what he could get. “All right.” He thought for a moment. “What’s your favorite childhood memory?”
She seemed to turn that over in her mind. “I guess the last Christmas morning before my mother died. Mom had been sick for several days so Dad and I let her sleep in. I could see all of the presents under the tree, but I didn’t want to open them until she woke up. Instead, we took some presents we had bought to one of the orphanages in town. He knew the director, and they knew the presents were coming, but my mom was supposed to take them over and hadn’t because of the flu bug.”
“Which orphanage?”
Was she blushing? “The same one your family goes to on Christmas. I actually met all of you, very briefly, that day. I think I shook hands with everyone except your great-grandmother. She gave me a big hug.”
Malachi grinned. “That sounds like Nana Yvette. None of us were rude, were we?”
“No,” she answered slowly. “Not rude, per se, just busy. I was just one more in a line of people you would meet. Except for Queen Yvette.”
“She is not queen anymore, you know?” he asked, amused.
“I know, but what is her title? Your grandmother is the Queen Mother.” She’d been at the wedding, but had left town for the foreseeable future to be with a sick friend. “Is she the Queen Grandmother?”
Malachi thought about that for a moment. “You know, I am not really sure, either. To me, she has always been Nana Yvette.”
“She said something to me.” Jessabelle almost seemed to have forgotten he was listening. “She told me that I would always, always, be loved.”
He reached over and covered her hand with his own. “I know we did not get married the way most people do, but I can promise you one thing. If my Nana Yvette said that, she meant it. You are my wife. I want to get to know you, to love you, until death do we part.” Had he actually said that in the vows? “But for now, know that one member of the family loves you. If she said that, somewhere, somehow, you made an impression on her, and she meant what she said. She loves you, and that is probably why she did her best to convince me not to fight my father on our marriage.”
Chapter 9
Jessabelle wasn’t sure what Malachi had meant when he said his Nana Yvette had convinced him to go through with the wedding. Would he have backed out? Even after the announcement had been made? The conversation stalled and before she knew it several more days had gone by. At each meal, he asked her a different question. What television show would she live in? Now that money was no object, what would she like to buy? Most of the questions were fairly superficial, but she answered them as best she could. He answered them in return, but she never asked questions of her own.
Two days before they left, she found him leaning against the door jamb. “I have something for you.” A gift bag dangled from one finger as he walked toward her.
“You shouldn’t have.” She didn’t feel entirely comfortable accepting a gift from him, but she couldn’t turn it down either.
“I wanted to.” He handed her the bag.
She opened it and gasped, glancing up at him. “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered. She lifted the delicate silver chain with a cross dangling from it. “I don’t even know what to say, Prince Malachi.” The title slipped out, and Jessabelle couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“Prince Malachi?” Was there a bit of hurt in his words? He began to pace. “After getting to know each other, spending so much time together, I’m still only ‘Prince Malachi’?”
Her hands gripped the outside of the small box. “Like everyone else in Mevendia, I was raised to call the royal family by their titles. You’re His Royal Highness Prince Malachi. Your father is His Majesty King Antonio. It’s the way you’ve always been in my head. Just like I always thought of my teachers as Mrs. Love or Dr. Otto. Even though I knew their first names, they’ve never been Carol or Patrick to me and probably never will. Dr. Otto is an old friend of my father’s and after graduation told me to call him Pat. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to.” She finally dared glance up. “I want to be comfortable calling you Malachi or Kai or whatever you wish, but I’m still working on it.”
He looked at her hands and didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Very well.” Leaning toward her, he brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Get some sleep. We will leave for our excursion quite early in the morning.”
Jessabelle watched him walk away. Every night since the first, he’d given her a good night kiss. Never pushing for more, just a soft, sweet kiss.
But this time he didn’t even give her that.
And she missed it.
Feeling rejected, she slipped under the covers, laying the box on the side table. She needed to make it through a couple more days, and they could go home. But her new home would be different than anything she’d ever known. It would take some adjustment.
The night before they were to leave and fly back to Mevendia was much colder, and they had an early dinner. She wondered if an early meal was a way to get to bed earlier and, therefore, end the awkward conversations sooner. This time, though, Malachi asked a question she wasn’t sure how to answer.
“What’s one of your biggest dreams? What’s one thing you would love to have or do above all else?”
Jessabelle stared at the food on her plate. Her favorite meal but one she hadn’t told Mrs. Rappellini about. She had told him during a conversation two nights earlier. He must have told the other woman. He took a bite while he waited.
She wasn’t sure how to answer the question. Her heart’s desire was to work with children, perhaps be a pediatric nurse, but she had no idea what that would entail or if she would be allowed to do so now that her job title was Princess of Mevendia. Could she even have passed the classes if she’d been allowed to try?
What answer should she give him? Finally, she decided. “I want to be a mother. I want to have a family,” she said, pushing the words out over the lump in her throat. An honest answer. A safe answer, except this was the man she would have a family with. A man she had married then kissed a few times, but did not love and was not ready to have a physical relationship with.
He looked at her, as though he knew there was more to the answer, but he didn’t press her for more. “That sounds lovely.”
“I never quite felt like I belonged,” she rushed on, surprising herself with the words. “After my mother died, my father and I didn’t connect the same way we had before, and certainly not the way she and I had.” She pushed her plate away. “I’ve always just wanted to belong.”
Without looking at him, she stood and hurried up to their room, wrapping her arms around herself as she went to stand outside on the balcony. Mrs. Rappellini had been right. The sunsets were awe inspiring.
She heard Malachi walk out, but he surprised her when he wrapped his arms around her. “You will always have a place to belong with me, Mia Belle. Always.”
They stared over the water until the sun set completely, then she pulled away from him, confused by the feelings swirling around inside. “I think I’m going to turn in early,” she told him, practically running into the bathroom and lockin
g the door behind her.
When she slid under the sheets, she wondered where Malachi had gone, but didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.
When Jessabelle awoke the next morning, Malachi had been and gone. A note on the side table directed her to a dress lying over the back of the chair. She followed the directions, dressing in the sleek white dress and heading for the gazebo near the beach. Before she reached it, she saw Malachi talking with Mr. and Mrs. Rappellini.
Shoving her hands further into her coat pockets, she headed for them.
Malachi reached for her hands once she was close enough, and she took them. Even with the gloves her hands felt warmer cocooned in his.
“What’s all this?” she asked, looking around. Mrs. Rappellini looked like the cat that ate the canary. Mr. Rappellini looked like the cat that helped her get away with it.
Malachi took a step closer to her. “Something I realized at the time, and meant to talk to you about sooner, but we never did.” He took a deep breath. “I realized it again when we talked last night. Two weeks ago, I noticed the difference between our wedding vows.”
So had Jessabelle. She didn’t think he had.
“So here, in front of witnesses.” He nodded toward Mr. and Mrs. Rappellini. “I wanted to take new vows. Real ones.” Another deep breath. “I, Malachi Jedidiah Richard Louis Van Rensselaer, take you, Jessabelle Van Rensselaer to be my lawfully wedded wife. In sickness and in health. For richer, for poorer. I vow to love, honor, and cherish you. I vow to keep myself only to you and no other. For as long as we both shall live.”
Tears filled her eyes as his words sank in. “Really?”
“It didn’t seem fair that you promised me all this stuff and I did not promise any of it back.” The back of his leather-gloved hand swiped at a tear as it streaked down her cheek. “I wanted to make sure you know I’m in this for good or bad, for the long haul.” He tugged on her hand until they were a few steps from Mr. and Mrs. Rappellini. “I know my father cheated on my mother, a lot, until he became king. That affair has to go down as one of the worst kept secrets in all of Mevendian history. I would never, ever do that to you. Ever.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“And I wanted witnesses to hear me say those things.” He let go of her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “But we do need to get going. My father expects me back and refreshed in time for a meeting tomorrow morning.”
After a quick good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Rappellini, and giving a promise to them to visit again soon, Jessabelle sat in the back of the car as they were driven to the airport. In a matter of hours, it would be time to settle into life as the wife of a prince. Jessabelle still wasn’t certain what all that entailed, but she had a feeling she was going to be thrown into the deep end without a life jacket.
* * *
Malachi had hoped for a deeper, more intimate meeting of souls when he professed his vows to Jessabelle. Instead, she’d been very matter of fact about them. A few tears, but very little other emotion. No invitation to kiss her. No indication that they really did mean that much to her.
Because she didn’t care? Or she didn’t believe him? Or something else entirely?
The flight to Mevendia was quiet. Malachi caught up on email and reading some of the paperwork he’d need for the meeting the next day. Jessabelle stared out the window for the duration of the flight. When they landed, he was whisked one direction by Carson, his assistant, while she was ushered back to the palace.
Over the next two days, they began to settle into a pattern. He didn’t see her much and had little idea what she did with her days. But when he returned to their apartment Wednesday afternoon, he found her throwing things into a suitcase.
“Jessabelle?” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What’s all this?”
She looked at him, tears streaking down her cheeks. “My father has taken a turn for the worse. They don’t expect him to live much longer, and I need to go stay with him for a few days. Until he gets better or until...” Her voice caught on a sob.
Malachi turned her until her head rested on his chest. He let her weep against him until she seemed to have cried herself out. “Do you want me to go with you?”
She shook her head. “No. I know you and your brother have that meeting with Queen Adeline and Queen Christiana tomorrow. There won’t be anything for you to do except sit there. Thank you for offering though.”
“If you need anything, call me. I’ll interrupt my meetings if you need me. And if I don’t hear my phone or don’t answer, my assistant can always find me, so call Carson.” He tilted her head up so he could look her in the eye. “Promise me?”
Jessabelle nodded. “I will.” She moved away from him. “But I have to go.”
He pulled her back to him and whispered a prayer for her and her father then let her go.
That night, he tossed and turned. Even though he never slept directly next to his wife, he missed her being there with him. Four-thirty rolled around. He was about to give up sleeping when his cell phone buzzed on the table next to the bed.
Jessabelle’s picture popped up as he picked it up. He opened with, “How are you?”
“He’s gone.” Her voice sounded broken. “He muttered incoherently for the last hour, but then he just...stopped. A couple more breaths and he was gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Mia Belle.” He swung his feet over the side of the bed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“No. There’s really no need. The staff here will take care of everything. My father already made most of the funeral arrangements. It’ll be a small gathering in a couple of days.” She seemed to hesitate. “Would you come for that?”
“Of course!” Did she really think he wouldn’t be at his father-in-law’s memorial? “I would imagine my father will be in attendance as well.”
So would the paparazzi, but no need to mention that.
“Thank you.” He could hear someone speaking in the background. “I have some things to do here, but I wanted to let you know.”
“I’m glad you did.” He’d been afraid she wouldn’t. She said something inane like “see you later” and hung up.
Malachi spent a few minutes in prayer before calling his father’s direct line.
“What?” The king’s sleep-scratched voice sounded more intimidating than usual.
“Jessabelle’s father died a few minutes ago,” Malachi informed him. “I thought you’d like to know.”
He heard the rustle of sheets and whispers between his parents. “You’re right, Mal. Her father was one of my best friends growing up, even if we hadn’t spoken much until he called insisting on the marriage contract with William.”
There was a whole story thread there. One Malachi wanted to understand. Why his father hadn’t insisted William marry Jessabelle, but had been adamant Malachi do so. It wasn’t the time and telephone wasn’t the medium to get into it, though.
For the next few minutes, Malachi told him the little he knew about the arrangements being made. His father insisted the whole royal family would be in attendance. Malachi tried to convince him it wasn’t necessary. The added press attention would stress Jessabelle out, but the king insisted.
By six, Malachi had made phone calls to cancel all of his meetings for the rest of the week. His wife needed him, even if she’d never admit it. By seven-thirty, he’d driven himself to the home his wife grew up in. Nodding his thanks to the maid who opened the door and directed him to the office, he looked for her.
She sat on the edge of the chair behind the desk, mounds of paper surrounding her. He watched as she rifled through one stack then another. Jessabelle sank back into the seat and looked up, seeing him for the first time.
Tears streaked down her cheeks as she spoke. “It’s not here.”
Chapter 10
Jessabelle had looked through all of the papers on the desk and had come to one of two conclusions.
The paperwork
wasn’t there.
Or her father had gone slightly crazy in his last moments.
Malachi, in his dark suit, pressed white shirt, and subdued tie walked across the room toward her. “What can’t you find, love?”
“My father told me to...” She closed her eyes, trying to remember his exact words. “...’Find the key to your heritage in the safety deposit box.’”
“The key to your heritage?” Malachi sat in one of the leather chairs across from her. “Any idea what that means?”
“No. And there’s no record that I’ve found yet of a safety deposit box.” She wiped her fingertips under her eyes. So many tears.
“Could it be in your mother’s name?”
Jessabelle stared at him.
“What?”
“I guess it could be.” She swiveled in the chair and opened a drawer in the filing cabinet. Two large expandable folders rested inside. She had to stand to pull them out. Malachi was at her side by the time she stood straight, and he took one from her.
“Do you mind if I help you look?”
She shook her head. “It probably doesn’t matter right now. I’ll find it when we go through everything. Something about how he said it, though...” It bothered her. She knew her heritage. Her father was the grandson of the third son of a duke. His sixth great-grandmother had been a princess in the Van Rensselaer family. She’d married a duke. Their line continued through the oldest son until two generations earlier. Jessabelle probably had some exceptionally distant claim to the throne. If ten thousand and eight other people all died at the same time.
Malachi pulled a sheet of paper out. “Here it is. The Second Mevendian National Bank. It looks like it was paid for twenty-one years in one lump sum about nineteen years ago.” He scanned the page. “It says there’s a special caveat. Upon the death of both of your parents before your twenty-first birthday, the contents of the box are to be turned over to you. If one or both of your parents survive to your birthday, they can choose to close the box or renew it with new instructions.”
Hand-Me-Down Princess Page 7