Her fidgeting fingers on the cup handle didn’t go unnoticed by Marcus. In fact, it amazed him that everything about her caught his attention.
In the open light of the fresh morning, her skin looked like rich cream and pale roses. Her brown hair was threaded with streaks of gold and sunlight. This morning the mass was unconfined, the waves tumbling about her face and shoulders like a wild waterfall.
Before Marcus realized where his thinking was headed, he was suddenly wondering what it would be like to run his hands through the thick brown tresses, to skim the pads of his fingers over the smooth skin of her face, her throat and down the shadowy cleavage between her breasts.
Dear Lord, he must be drunk from lack of sleep and too much work, he reasoned with himself. There was no other reason for him to be thinking such lustful thoughts about his king’s daughter. Especially now that King Michael was missing and presumed dead.
Across the table Dominique was feeling a bit disturbed by Marcus’s close scrutiny. It wasn’t like him to look at her so intensely. And though she knew it was a crazy notion, she wondered if the man was finally seeing her as a woman. Not as the teenager he used to know.
The whole idea heated Dominique’s cheeks and forced her to rise to her feet and put a measurable space between them.
Walking to the edge of the balcony, she leaned against the thick balustrade. From this high point, Old Stanbury, the capital city of Edenbourg, lay far below. Its network of winding narrow streets were nestled against green hillsides and lined with shops, boutiques and quaint cottages built centuries before the ravages of World War II had threatened this small island country.
Far to the west, between a break in the mountains, was a sparkling glimpse of blue-gray sea, while directly below were the palace grounds, where slopes of grassy lawns were dotted with huge shade trees and patterned with hedgerows. In another month, tea roses would be blooming thickly in the carefully tended gardens. A beautiful time for a wedding. But that part of Dominique’s dreams were over.
She was trying to fight off those bitter thoughts when Marcus came to stand beside her. With a rueful smile, she looked over at him.
“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m not very good company this morning.”
The smile he cast her was regretful. “I’m not here to be entertained, Dominique. In fact, I think I should be the one apologizing for starting your day out on such a bad note.”
She drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “No. Please don’t apologize. I want you to keep me abreast of what’s happening with the investigation.”
He nodded soberly. “Perhaps we’ll hear something soon.”
As she studied his somber face, it suddenly dawned on her that her father’s disappearance was bound to be tearing at him just as much as it was her. Marcus had spent many years serving his country and, most of all, his king. He had become her father’s right-hand man, a close friend and confidant to Michael Stanbury.
The need to comfort him overshadowed her intentions to remain distant. She reached for his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “I know you must be hurting over all this, too, Marcus. You love Father very much.”
“Yes,” he said flatly. “It’s not the same without him.”
“No. But then our lives never really stay the same, even when we want them to.”
Her comment brought a grimace to his face. “I’m sure you heard about my marriage and divorce.”
She nodded while trying to hide her surprise that he’d brought up the subject. From what she recalled, Marcus had been a private man. She’d not expected him to want to share that sort of thing with anyone.
“It was in the papers,” she told him. “I couldn’t help but see all the articles. I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you.”
Pulling away from her, he gripped the top rail of the balustrade as he stared out at the distant city. “Being a member of your father’s staff made my private life fodder for the news media. I don’t think there was even one story that ever got it right.”
Her throat tightened with unexpected emotion. Marcus had always been a hero in her eyes. And heroes weren’t ever supposed to hurt. “Your wife—I mean, ex-wife—is very beautiful. You must have loved her madly.”
The corners of his mouth turned downward. Madly was probably the perfect way to describe his feelings toward Liza back then, Marcus thought. For a while he’d been insane over the woman. He’d not been able to see beyond his own besotted emotions that she was not suited to him or his way of life. Liza had never been able to understand that when duty to his country called, she had to take second stage.
“I’m over Liza, Dominique. But I do still deeply regret that our baby didn’t survive.”
Baby. The word jolted the deepest part of her and for long moments she was too choked to speak.
Finally, she managed, but her voice was hoarse and so low it was almost carried away with the sea breeze. “You’ll have a child someday, Marcus. When you find that special woman.”
His lips twisted to a mocking slant. “No. Two years ago Liza suffered a spontaneous miscarriage. The doctors couldn’t explain why it happened. Except that nature had decided to intervene. Somehow the lack of a concrete reason made it harder for both of us to accept the loss. The whole thing made me realize that having a wife and a child of my own was…too risky an endeavor. I’ve decided I’m not cut out to be a husband or father. Some men aren’t, you know.”
Oh yes, Dominique did know. But she’d learned the lesson too late. Now she had to face the reckoning of her folly alone.
Dominique was so lost in her problems, she wasn’t aware that Marcus had moved closer until his lips were brushing a soft kiss against her cheek.
“Welcome home, Dominique,” he murmured.
Too stunned to make any sort of reply, she watched him leave the balcony, then with quivering fingers, she touched the spot where his lips had warmed her skin.
Marcus believed he wasn’t meant to be a husband or father. If Dominique was wise, she would make herself believe it, too.
Four days later, in the family room of the Stanbury palace, Dominique announced that she intended to drive out to the scene of her father’s accident and have a look for herself.
“Dominique,” Queen Josephine calmly spoke up, “the police are doing all they can. Your interference would only hinder their progress.”
Dominique turned an astounded look on her perfectly groomed mother. Sometimes Josephine’s stiff upper lip infuriated her. Putting on a strong and reserved facade for the public was one thing, but in the privacy of family, Dominique didn’t believe any of them had to keep up a show of iron will.
Her parents had been married for thirty-three years and had produced three children together. Yet there had been times when Dominique wondered about their relationship. Their marriage had been an arrangement, made between two families seeking to merge their bloodlines and further enforce their power.
Now, as she looked at her mother sitting calmly in a winged-back chair, her smooth profile turned toward the flames in the fireplace, she could only guess at the woman’s guarded emotions. Was she mourning a lost love or simply accepting that the king was dead and it was her duty to continue without him?
“What progress are you talking about, Mother? It’s been a week and they still can’t tell us what happened with Father! They can’t even find his body!”
“That hardly means you can,” Nicholas spoke up from across the room.
Dominique rolled her eyes toward the high ceiling of the massive room. “I didn’t say I could, Nick. I’m only saying I want to go look for myself. I want to see where my father supposedly lost his life.”
“Not me,” Rebecca said from a nearby armchair. “It gives me the shivers just thinking about it.”
“I’m with Rebecca. The scene is not something for the fainthearted to see.”
This was from Jake Stanbury. Close to thirty years old with a tall, lean build and dark brown hair, he was the second so
n of Edward, who had arrived later that morning after the king’s accident. In fact, he claimed he’d driven up on the scene shortly after it had happened and was credited with notifying the police.
Dominique didn’t actually know either of her American cousins or her Uncle Edward. Nor was she yet sure what to make of their unannounced arrival in Old Stanbury. Especially on the very day of her father’s accident. But Josephine had immediately welcomed them home and set them up in apartments on the palace grounds. With their mother setting that sort of cordial tone, Dominique had kept her doubts to herself and since then treated the three men as family. Nicholas and Isabel also appeared to be getting along with their American relatives.
“I’m not exactly fainthearted,” Dominique said to Jake. “I can take a jolt.”
Several feet away, Marcus rose from a high-back divan and joined Dominique in the middle of the room. Earlier he’d stopped by the family living quarters to discuss a foreign-trade agreement with Nicholas, but had wound up staying longer once the subject of the accident had been brought up.
For the past few minutes he’d been discreetly watching Dominique move restlessly around the room. Her outward appearance was elegant in a dove-gray skirt and a pale pink sleeveless sweater. A single strand of pearls rested against her neck and a pearl ring circled with diamonds adorned her right hand. But though she looked quite beautiful, he could sense a tightly controlled tenseness about her which worried him. Of all the Stanburys, she seemed to be taking the loss of King Michael the hardest, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.
“Dominique, if you want to go out to the scene that badly, I’ll take you myself. I have a few questions of my own about this investigation. Seeing the scene might help answer them,” he offered.
Grateful for his support, she looked at him with relief. “I wouldn’t want to put you out, Marcus. But if you’d really like to go, I’m certainly game.”
He smiled at her, then glanced at his wristwatch. “Just let me go home and change my clothes. I’ll pick you up in the courtyard in fifteen minutes.”
Ten minutes later Dominique was ready and standing in wait on the stone driveway at the back of the castle. When Marcus pulled up beside her in a classic little MGB, she didn’t wait for him to get out and open her door. She slid into the car and greeted him with a wide, grateful smile.
“You don’t know what a reprieve you’ve given me.” She spoke while buckling her seat belt. “I think I would have exploded if I hadn’t gotten out of there soon.”
Marcus put the sleek convertible into gear and headed them back across the drawbridge and on to the road to Old Stanbury.
“Nicholas tells me you haven’t been out of the palace since your father’s accident,” he commented.
Her sigh was weary. “No. And the place is beginning to get to me.” Grimacing, she glanced over at him. “I mean, not that I don’t like my home. But, I suppose the university has been my home for so long now that, well, I’m just not use to the confinement here at the palace. Or being constantly observed by my family. Even Pru smothers me.”
“The accident has put a strain on everyone, Dominique. I believe your mother is coping by trying to put the whole thing out of her mind.”
Her frown deepened as she considered his words. “She’s just so damn unfeeling at times I want to scream.”
He smiled indulgently. “Your mother was bred to be strong. No matter what was thrown her way.”
“Maybe so. But I happen to think the people of Edenbourg expect to see a queen weeping with tears of loss for her husband.”
He turned his head slightly and looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “Because that’s what you want to see from her?”
Dominique thought about his question for a moment. “I only know if I’d been married to a man for thirty-three years and borne him three children, I’d be stricken with grief.”
Yes, he could see where Dominique would be different from her mother, Marcus thought. Josephine was a rigidly controlled woman, whereas Dominique had appeared to grow into a passionate person. And something told him that if she did ever give her heart to a man, it would be totally, not just halfway.
“Perhaps Josephine just hides her emotions well. Some of us do.”
A glance at him suddenly reminded her of how close together the confines of the British car had put them. His shoulder was only a hand’s span from hers, and even though the vinyl top was up and the day overcast, she was near enough to see the pores in his skin and the faint afternoon shadow of his dark beard. He’d changed into khakis and a pale yellow oxford shirt. The cuffs were rolled back against forearms lightly fuzzed with fine black hair. The collar and first button of the shirt were not fastened and to her own dismay she found herself trying to peep between the loosened folds of fabric.
“Does that mean when you were going through your divorce you kept your feelings hidden? Even from your family?” she asked him.
The road had become steep and narrow. Marcus downshifted the car and kept his gaze firmly on the oncoming traffic.
“My family is just my father now. I have no brothers or sisters, if you recall. Mother died a couple years back. Complications from diabetes. At the time of my divorce, Father really wasn’t in any shape to deal with all my problems. I kept most of them concealed from him. Thankfully, we’re both doing better now.”
Was he? Dominique wondered. He’d just admitted to keeping his feelings to himself. Maybe he was still grieving for his wife and child. Maybe the pain was hidden from his eyes and camouflaged by his brief smiles. The idea bothered her greatly and she wondered just who or what it would take to get inside Marcus Kent.
Nearly thirty minutes passed before they reached the spot where the king’s car had crashed through the heavy metal railing that guarded the narrow, twisting highway.
Because the police and other intelligence forces were still investigating the site, the road was blocked and the cliffside cordoned off with bright yellow tape. Marcus was forced to leave the MGB far back down the mountain road and the two of them walked the remaining distance until stopped by an officer in a dark blue uniform.
Marcus quickly presented him with his identification and then Dominique’s. After studying it closely, the young officer went from abrupt and suspicious to embarrassed and fumbling all over himself.
“I didn’t realize you were with the royal family,” he said, then blushing, he swept off his hat and glanced sheepishly at Dominique. “I mean, I didn’t recognize you, Princess Dominique. Nor you, Mr. Kent.”
“I’m glad to see you’re doing your job and making no exceptions,” Marcus assured him. “Is it all right if we have a look around? We’ll try not to disturb anything or get in the way.”
“Of course,” he said, then practically clicking his heels with attention, he lifted the tape to usher them under. “I’ll let everyone else know who you are so that you won’t be bothered.”
The two of them thanked the officer then moved on. As they walked, Marcus teased, “How does it feel to be an unrecognized princess?”
She smiled. “Actually, I like it. I’ve never wanted to be fawned over. As if I were more special than the next person. I’m not. I happened to be born to the king and queen. If not for that, I’d be just like any other woman in Edenbourg.”
No, Marcus thought. She would never be like just any woman in this small country. Or anywhere else for that matter. She had a regal bearing, a beauty and compassion about her that made her stand out above others. The fact that she was so unpretentious made her even more appealing as a person.
Suddenly aware that she was no longer at his side, he paused and glanced back to see she’d stopped on the soggy cliffside. Her hands were planted on slender hips encased in dark blue jeans. A puzzled frown creased her forehead as she studied the highway running several yards up above them.
Stepping back to her, he asked, “What are you thinking?”
Watching her draw a deep breath, then let it out slowly,
Marcus decided this whole place was cutting into her with vicious reality. Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring her out here, he thought ruefully. But for the past few days he’d watched her struggle to understand why she was now without her father. He wanted to help her come to grips with the accident and he’d hoped this little trip might help.
She looked at him thoughtfully. “It suddenly struck me that this particular road isn’t the only route Father could have taken to the abbey the morning of the christening. In fact, the other road is shorter. And being inland, it’s not nearly as treacherous as this.”
He nodded in agreement. “I had already considered that, Dominique. And you’re right. But for some reason King Michael must have chosen this route. Or he might have simply allowed the driver to choose which road he wanted to travel. I’ve seen him do that often in the past. Especially when he has business on his mind.”
“You could be right,” Dominique said as she glanced around her. “Mother does admit that he had some sort of last-minute business to attend to that morning. That’s the reason he sent her on to the abbey without him. I just wonder what could have been so important.”
Marcus’s gazed drifted out to the choppy sea. “No one seems to know. There weren’t any messages left on his phone. No scribbled notes on his desk. The night before, he didn’t mention anything to me. I’ve tried to think of a pressing issue that might have come up suddenly, but I keep coming up with a blank.”
Dominique sighed as she fought with strands of hair whipping into her face. It was a raw afternoon and she was glad she’d taken the time to change into jeans and a green, long-sleeved sweater. The tangy salt air had nipped her cheeks and nose and she knew without looking they had already turned as pink as her bare fingers.
Stuffing her hands into her jeans’ pockets for warmth, she looked at Marcus and said, “Well, I can’t help thinking the business might have had something to do with him traveling this road.”
The Expectant Princess Page 3