Glad to see her questions hadn’t offended him, she smiled. “That’s how a person learns, you know. By asking questions.”
He smiled back at her. “Hmm. I’ll remember that in a few minutes. After I loosen your tongue with something warm to drink.”
Even though Marcus was teasing, the comment was enough to make Dominique uneasy. If he asked her about her life at the university, she wasn’t sure what she was going to say.
Don’t be crazy, she silently scolded herself. There was plenty she could say about her studies and the friends she’d made there without bringing Bryce’s name into things. And anyway, she seriously doubted Marcus would be interested in hearing about her love life. Not that there’d been much love involved where Bryce had been concerned, she thought grimly. Dominique was ashamed to admit it, but the feelings that had gone on between the two of them had all been misguided and very one-sided on her part.
But she didn’t want to think about Bryce or any of that heartache now. Marcus was going out of his way to give her a few minutes of relaxation. She was going to do her best to enjoy it and try not to worry about what the near future was going to bring to her.
Moments later, Marcus parked on a steep and narrow cobblestone street, far away from the hustle and bustle of downtown shoppers and traffic.
Dominique gazed curiously through the windshield at the small inn. It was nothing like the modern fast-food places that had sprung up in the newer additions of the growing city in the past few years. This place was an authentic European cottage constructed of white stucco and a thatched roof. Green wooden shutters framed the paned windows. Directly below, in wooden boxes of the same color, yellow and purple pansies shouted to be noticed among tall red tulips. Above the heavy door which served as the entrance, hung an iron sign which read Chauncey’s.
“I don’t ever remember seeing this place,” she told him. “But I should have. It’s lovely.”
“And quiet. That’s the best part,” he told her.
His remark brought another thought to her mind. She glanced anxiously over at him as he proceeded to unbuckle his seat belt.
“Marcus, do you think we should be doing this?”
He paused to look at her, his face wrinkled with confusion. “What do you mean, doing this?”
Suddenly feeling awkward, she shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t be out and about in public like this right now. The news is already saturated with Father’s disappearance. If they see the two of us, they’ll probably report we were out kicking up our heels instead of properly mourning the king.”
Scowling, he motioned for her to get out of her seat belt. “Don’t worry about the news media, Dominique. It’s very doubtful any sort of reporter will see us here. And even if they do, we’re not going to worry about what they say. Even if King Michael is dead, we have to keep on living, don’t we? We can’t stop the world from going on around us while we wait for some sort of word.”
She bit down on her bottom lip as she considered all he’d just said. “You’re right, of course,” she finally answered. “We can’t remain hidden away in the castle forever. But people sometimes misconstrue what they see.”
With his left arm propped on the steering wheel, he turned in the seat and leaned slightly toward her. Dominique instinctively swallowed as his very male presence enveloped her, filling her head with all sorts of erotic fantasies.
“What are they going to see, Dominique? The king’s daughter and his high counsel having a drink on a cold afternoon? I don’t see what could be misconstrued about that.”
Her gaze fell to her lap, where her fingers were gripping the edges of his jacket. It wasn’t fair that he made her feel so edgy, so aware of being a woman. Especially when she appeared to have no such effect on him at all.
The whole idea filled her with frustration, and before she could stop herself, she was saying, “No. You wouldn’t see where anyone might put the two of us together. Because you don’t see me—as a woman.” She lifted her head and darted him a look that dared him to deny her words. “But I am, Marcus. And you’re a divorced man.”
He rolled his eyes, scoffing at the idea that anyone would dare link them in such a way. His attitude hurt. Probably more than if he’d whacked her with his hand. She might not possess the beauty of his ex-wife, but she wasn’t unappealing to look at. She’d turned several male heads at the university. They just hadn’t belonged to someone as mature or forceful as Marcus.
Disbelief twisted his features. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re years younger than me. And a princess of Edenbourg at that. I’m a commoner. You’d never settle for anything less than a duke or marquess for a husband.”
She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Why think they would link us together in that manner? They might just say we’re having an affair.”
He looked absolutely angry now.
“Oh, good Lord, Dominique!”
Quickly, she heaved out a breath and jerked off her seat belt. “You’re right. How silly of me to imagine someone like you would look at someone like me for a lover! I’m not nearly glamorous enough to be a mistress. My qualifications are only good for the dowdy wife of a boring blue blood!”
Before Marcus had time to get out of the car and come around to her door, she’d opened it herself and climbed out on the wet cobblestone.
He slid out of the car and went around to where she stood, but she purposely refused to look at him. Taking a firm grip on her elbow, he said, “You’re being childish now, Dominique. And what, pray tell me, brought on such an outburst from you?”
Humiliation burned her cheeks. Tears scalded her throat. What in heaven’s name had come over her? she wondered wildly. How could she have linked their names with the word lover? Now he was going to think she was still nursing a childish crush on him. After four long years!
With a soft groan of anguish, she closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I don’t know what made me say those things. Please forget it. Please.”
For long moments he studied her bowed head, then he heaved a heavy breath and nudged her toward the inn. “Come on,” he said gruffly. “It’s starting to rain again.”
Chapter Four
Inside the rustic tavern only a handful of patrons sat at tiny square wooden tables covered with blue-checked cloths. Farm-type lanterns hung from the low-beamed ceiling and fat nubby candles flickered from the center of each table, providing meager light in the dark interior. The scent of fish and chips and ale lingered in the warm air, and as Marcus guided her through the maze of tables, Dominique’s stomach reacted by quickly rising in her throat.
Panicked with the realization that she was going to be sick, she stopped in her tracks and jerked her elbow free from his grip.
Marcus glanced down at her with further annoyance. “What’s—”
“I’m sorry, Marcus, but I—I have to find the ladies’ room.”
Before he could ask more, she whirled and hurried away toward a rest-room sign hanging behind the bar in a far corner of the inn.
After nearly running through the maze of tables, Dominique locked herself inside the small facilities, then lost every bit of the lunch she’d eaten before leaving the castle.
As she heaved over the commode, she tried not to think of Marcus waiting on her or how she was going to look once she did go back out to join him. Her head was swimming with nausea, and sweat drenched her face and neck.
Several minutes passed before she was able to sponge her face with a damp paper towel and bring some semblance of order to her disheveled hair.
Above the tiny sink, a foggy mirror reflected a young woman with a paper-white face, hollow eyes and pinched mouth. But Dominique accepted the fact that there was nothing she could do about her appearance now. She’d not bothered to bring a purse with her on this outing, much less a compact of pressed powder or a tube of lipstick.
Besides, how she looked to Marcus wasn’t nearly as bad as what she’d said to him.
But it was too late to take back the words. Too late to take back a lot of things, she thought grimly.
With that in mind, Dominique squared her shoulders and left the sanctity of the rest room. She immediately saw Marcus sitting at one of the tables in the opposite corner of the dimly lit room. A redheaded waitress stood over him, a pad in one hand and a pencil in the other. But from the animated expression on her face, Dominique could see the woman wasn’t in a hurry to take his order.
Easing into the wooden chair directly across from him, Dominique felt both Marcus and the waitress eyeing her as if she had smut on her nose.
Pretending indifference, she asked, “Have you ordered for me?”
The faint lift of his eyebrows told her he’d been more worried about her running out a back exit of the building than trying to decide what she wanted to drink.
“No,” he answered. “I decided you’d better choose your own poison.”
Dominique took a deep breath and hoped the tabletop prevented him from seeing her hand pressed against her quivering stomach. “A ginger ale, please,” she told the waitress.
Her choice put a confused frown on his face. “I thought you wanted something warm.”
“I—I did, but it doesn’t sound good now.” She glanced at the waitress to make sure the woman wasn’t confused about the order. “Keep it a ginger ale,” she told her.
With a confirming nod, the redhead swished away. Across the table, Marcus’s unsettling gaze continued to survey her as if he was seeing a person he didn’t quite know. Dominique swallowed and stared out the paned window to the right of her. Rain was falling steadily now, darkening the street and the stone steps leading up to the entrance of the inn.
“You were gone so long I was getting ready to ask the waitress to check on you,” he said.
She pushed a hand through her tumbled hair. “I’m sorry. I was feeling a bit sick and I waited for it to pass.”
“You look like you’ve stuck your face in a bin of flour. Are you feeling all right now?” he asked.
There was no annoyance in his voice, only concern. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, Marcus’s caring attitude was harder to deal with than his anger.
Suddenly her eyes blurred with tears and she stared at the tabletop as she desperately tried to pull herself together.
“I’ll be fine,” she murmured in a wobbly voice. “It’s—I’ve just been having a trying time here lately, Marcus. I guess the stress is getting to me.”
She couldn’t explain that her body was being bombarded with a heavy dose of unfamiliar hormones and that her moods sometimes swung from high to low in a matter of seconds. The least little thing brought tears to her eyes and words that she would never normally say sometimes spouted from her lips as if a stranger had taken over her body.
Her hand slid downward to the lower part of her belly and cupped the slight mound that had just become evident in the past few weeks. Another life had taken over her body, she realized. And though a part of her wanted to shout with joy that she was three months pregnant, she’d never been so terrified or torn in her life.
“If you’re ill, we can forget the drinks and go back to the castle.”
She sniffed, then wiping her cheeks with both hands, she lifted her head and forced herself to look at him. “No, I’m fine. Really, Marcus.”
His expression skeptical, he leaned back in the wooden chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought I knew you, Dominique. But I can see that I don’t.”
Her chin lifted to a faintly defensive angle. “We haven’t really seen each other in over four years. I’ve changed. I’ve grown up since then.”
His lips twisted to a mocking slant. “It didn’t sound like it a few minutes ago.”
Her nostrils flared and color splashed across her cheeks as a spurt of anger renewed her strength. “I told you to forget that. What I was trying to say didn’t come out right, that’s all.”
Dropping his arms, he leaned forward as if he was preparing to give her some sort of strong retort, but the sudden appearance of the waitress diverted his attention.
While Marcus was served a cappuccino and Dominique her ginger ale, she braced herself. She wasn’t about to let Marcus think she still idolized him. She hadn’t lost all pride!
“Dominique, I am a divorced man now. But that doesn’t make me eligible to any woman. Especially you.”
Thank goodness her tearful mood was over and anger was stiffening her spine. She wasn’t going to let this man crush her feelings. Bryce had already done enough of that.
Her green eyes raked across the handsome angles and planes of his face. “I didn’t realize you’d turned into a conceited man, Marcus. Do you think every woman in your company wants you in her bed?”
Disgust turned the corners of his mouth downward. “I wouldn’t know. That’s hardly a question I go around asking.”
“Then why pick on me?”
His eyes widened and she knew their conversation wasn’t turning in the direction he’d expected. Good, she thought. Marcus didn’t need to think he could control everyone and especially her.
“Dominique!” he spurted with disbelief. “A while ago in the car you said—”
“I know what I said.” She snapped the interruption. “That the news media might try to link us in a—carnal way. I was only trying to express my worries to you. But all you could do was insult me!”
With a tight grimace on his face, he reached for the mug of steaming cappuccino. “If I did, it’s because you shouldn’t even be thinking such things. Let alone saying them out loud. To me. You’re still a child,” he muttered.
No, Dominique thought. Her young innocent years were gone. She wasn’t a child. She was carrying a child. And she was beginning to wonder if now might be the time to let Marcus Kent know exactly how grown-up she had become and what a scandalous mess she’d gotten herself into.
“Tell me, Marcus, what determines a person’s leap from childhood to adulthood? Chronological age? If so, I’m twenty-one. I’ve reached that legal mark on the calendar.”
“The number has nothing to do with it,” he said, his voice gruff with frustration.
Her lips twisted mockingly. “When you were my age, I’m sure you considered yourself a man.”
“Of course I did. But I didn’t know enough about life to really be a man. That takes time and the wisdom that comes with it.”
Slowly her gaze scanned his dark features. He believed she was still an innocent young woman who knew very little about the harsh realities of the world. She could only imagine how shocked he was going to be once she spilled her secret.
But would learning she was carrying a child be enough to convince Marcus she had grown both mentally and physically into womanhood? she wondered. Somehow she doubted it. She’d always known him to be a sober man who never did anything on impulse or yielded to frivolity. His decisions were always carefully weighed. He would never allow passion to rule his head. And because she had, he would probably consider her even more immature and foolish than he did at this very moment.
“How much does a person have to know, Marcus?” she asked softly. “How much pain or sorrow or joy must I feel before I can truly say I’m a woman?”
Irritation at her persistence caused his features to tighten. He glanced at her, then at the falling rain beyond the window. “I don’t know, Dominique.”
“Then how do you know I’m still a child?” she insisted.
His gaze swung back to her face, and though the thrust of his jaw remained unrelenting, she could see in his eyes that he was trying to understand her.
“Why are you harping on this?”
A flush of pale pink swept across her high cheekbones. “I don’t appreciate being belittled. Especially when you don’t know—”
She broke off abruptly, horrified that she’d been about to blurt out that she was pregnant. What was she thinking? she wondered wildly. She couldn’t tell Marcus now. He had enough worries trying to deal with
the uproar of her father being missing and presumed dead. Not to mention trying to ease Nicholas into the responsibilities of the throne of Edenbourg.
“Don’t know what?” he prodded.
Clamping her lips tightly together, she shook her head and looked away from him. “Forget it, Marcus. It wasn’t important.”
She could feel his gaze searching her profile, probing for answers she wasn’t giving him.
“You were about to say something, Dominique. It must have been important. Is there something you’re not telling me? Something I should know?”
“No!” she said sharply, then reached for her glass. With a negligent shrug, she tried to feign a casualness she was far from feeling. “I was only going to say that you really don’t know me.”
His response was nothing more than a faint lift of his black eyebrows.
The reaction compelled her to go on, “I mean, I’ve been gone for a long time, Marcus. And a lot of things have happened to make me a different person than the young girl you used to know.”
Suddenly a wry smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Since you’ve been away a lot has happened to me, too. Not all of it good.”
He was talking about his divorce and she found herself wanting to tell him she’d learned all about loving a person, then losing him. About having her beliefs shattered by a man she’d trusted.
Yet she bit back the words partly out of dread and shame and partly because he wouldn’t understand completely. Unless he knew about the baby.
She hoped he couldn’t detect the trembling of her hand as she lifted the glass to her lips. After a few careful sips, she lowered the drink back to the table, then cast him a wan smile.
“Not everything has been good for me either, Marcus. Especially this past week.”
The sudden reminder of Michael Stanbury’s accident caused his expression to turn grave. “No. This past week hasn’t been good for you or your family,” he agreed.
Her gaze fell to the tabletop as sadness welled up inside of her. “Nor you, Marcus. Or anyone who loves Father.” She looked up at him, her eyes full of shadows. “I used to think everyone loved King Michael. But now—” She shuddered as the memory of the accident scene rose up in her mind. “It seems incredible, but I’m afraid I might have to accept the idea that someone out there meant him harm.”
The Expectant Princess Page 5