The Expectant Princess

by Stella Bagwell

  “Do go on, Nicholas,” Josephine urged. “Don’t keep us waiting.”

  Dominique’s gaze swung over to her mother. In spite of her placid expression, she could tell Josephine was anxious. Faint color tinged her cheeks and her jeweled hand gripped the arm of her chair.

  In the past weeks since King Michael’s disappearance, Dominique had longed to see some sort of grief or distress from her mother. Some sign that the queen cared that her king was gone. But now that Dominique had witnessed it firsthand, it only made her feel the loss of her father even more.

  Nicholas cleared his throat, then glanced around the room at each and every face.

  “The results,” he finally spoke, “show that Herbert was murdered. He was dead before the car crashed and burned on the cliff.”

  “Murdered! My Lord,” Isabel cried out. “How?”

  “A lethal dose of digitalis,” Nicholas answered his sister’s question.

  Everyone in the room began to talk wildly and all at once. Queen Josephine quickly clapped her hands and demanded silence.

  When quietness fell, she said, “Nicholas, I’m not sure finding digitalis in Herbert’s blood could be viewed as murder. The man had a heart condition. He took digitalis to control it. He could have simply taken an extra dose by mistake.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “No, Mother. The forensic examiners were aware of Herbert’s medical treatment. This wasn’t an innocent, accidental overdose. There was a massive amount of this drug in Herbert’s system. The coroner believes he was probably injected with it, though the burned condition of his body made the exact source of ingestion impossible to determine. In any case, there was no smoke inhalation in his lungs from the fire, so it is clear he was dead before the crash.”

  “That’s ghastly!” Edward practically shouted from across the room. “Who would want to do such a thing to my brother’s driver?”

  Once again, Dominique turned her face up to Marcus. “If Herbert was murdered, what about Father?” she whispered to him. “Do the police think—”

  Her brother’s voice interrupted her question and she paused to listen with the rest.

  “The investigators believe King Michael has been kidnapped,” Nicholas continued. “If he’d been murdered along with Herbert, his body would have more than likely been discovered nearby. But as we all know, that didn’t happen.”

  “Kidnapping doesn’t make sense,” Josephine said, her features drawn. “There has been no contact. No demand for ransom.”

  “That’s right,” Isabel inserted. “Why kidnap a king and not ask for money?”

  “Police investigators believe the motive, when they learn it, will be the link to solving this whole incident,” Nicholas explained.

  “Perhaps someone, an enemy of this country, wants to take power of the throne?” Luke suggested.

  Marcus looked at the other man, then spoke for the first time since Nicholas had given them all the shocking news.

  “Killing a king doesn’t leave his throne open for just any outsider to take over. His heirs are next in power. The enemy would have to extinguish the whole Stanbury family to overtake the throne.”

  “Unless the enemy was a Stanbury,” Edward said soberly.

  Every head in the room turned to Michael Stanbury’s brother as the tall, gray-haired man moved away from the window and stepped to the center of the room.

  Nicholas glared at his uncle. “What are you trying to say, Edward? That one of us did away with Father?” he demanded.

  “You were his heir and the first in line to the throne,” Edward casually pointed out. “You’ve now become the king.”

  “Edward! Nicholas loved his father!” Josephine admonished with enough heat to scorch every soul in the room.

  Instantly, Edward rounded Josephine’s chair, then kneeling in front of her, he took hold of both her hands. “I’m sorry, my dear sister-in-law,” he said with seemingly genuine sincerity. “I wasn’t trying to accuse Nicholas of anything. I was merely pointing out what the public is probably going to be thinking when the news of the autopsy reaches the papers and television.”

  His features hard, Nicholas said, “I believe the public is going to be thinking a number of things. And yes, one of them will probably be that I wanted to be king of this country so badly that I did away with my own father rather than wait for his natural death. But I also have the feeling that many will be discussing the Stanbury Chamber of Riches and what part it might be playing in this whole grisly incident.”

  Edward straightened away from Josephine, but still stood close to her side. Dominique got the odd impression that the older man truly did care for his sister-in-law. But then she’d judged people wrongly before. Bryce had fooled her completely, she thought wryly.

  “I was under the notion that the Chamber of Riches was just a legacy,” Jake spoke up for the first time. “Is there actually such a thing? I thought it just amounted to a few crown jewels that were on display in some of your country’s museums.”

  Once again Marcus studied the American Stanbury with slow deliberation and Dominique wondered what was going on behind his dark, handsome features.

  Like her, he’d already suspected that King Michael’s disappearance had been more than just an accident. Was he thinking that someone in this room, someone close to the family was responsible for such a hideous crime? she wondered. The idea was incredible.

  Marcus explained, “The people of Edenbourg are aware that a chamber of riches exists and that the hidden wealth backs up this country’s monetary strength. Other than King Michael or acting King Nicholas, no one knows where this chamber of riches is located. And even if someone learned of its location, the discovery would be profitless. Only the king and his son have a key to its entryway. Unless, of course, this outside someone has the idea he could force his way into the chamber without being caught.”

  “Exactly,” Nicholas added. “And as of right now, anything anyone might say about this murder and Father’s disappearance is pure speculation. The only thing we can do is wait for further evidence to be uncovered by the investigators.”

  Once again ripples of conversation rose up around the room. However, this time Josephine was content to let the talk continue. Apparently the queen had heard all she wanted to hear. As for Dominique, she’d listened to more than enough. Especially the offensive notion that Nicholas would do something so vile.

  “I’m going back to my suite,” Dominique said in a low voice to Marcus.

  He slipped off the arm of the chair and helped her to her feet. “I’ll walk with you,” he told her. “Do you need to say anything to Prudence?”

  Dominique shook her head. Once her lady-in-waiting saw her leaving the room with Marcus, she would purposely avoid following her princess.

  Several pairs of eyes observed their exit from the sitting room. Dominique ignored the curious stares. Being linked to Marcus was nothing compared to all the speculations the autopsy report was going to stir up.

  Once they were outside in the corridor, Dominique felt herself wilting with the aftermath of the news. Sensing her distress, Marcus curved his arm around the back of her waist and kept it there as they walked.

  “Were you surprised by the findings?” Dominique asked him.

  “A part of me was shocked that such a gruesome thing could have happened here in this quiet, friendly country. But as you and I discovered that day at the cliff, all didn’t seem to add up.”

  She shook her head in total dismay. “Yes, I’ve been clinging to the idea that Father wasn’t in the car. I felt in my heart that he wasn’t dead. But to hear Nicholas actually say the police think he might have been kidnapped was—it’s terrifying, Marcus. Do you think that’s what actually happened? Do you think someone is keeping him against his will?”

  He glanced behind them before he answered. “It’s looking more and more that way. Especially since his body hasn’t turned up anywhere.”

  She shuddered at the thought and he looked down at her
with concern. “I’m worried about you, Dominique. This is too much shock and stress for you to be dealing with.”

  “There’s nothing to be done about it, Marcus. Until the police find my father, I’ll just have to keep praying that he’ll return to us safe and sound. But there’s no need for you to worry about me. I’m strong and healthy.”

  “Did you go see the royal physician?” he wanted to know.

  She nodded. Two days ago, she’d visited Dr. Wallcott, who was kept on staff for the royal family and their servants. The older man had been caring for the Stanburys for many years, even before Dominique was born, and she knew it had upset him to learn of her plight. But he’d not admonished her. Instead, he’d urged her to take extra care of herself.

  “Physically he says the baby and I are doing fine. But he is concerned about my emotional health. He understands the difficult position I’m in.”

  “You didn’t explain to him, about the father, did you?”

  A tiny frown marred her forehead as she glanced up at him. “Why, no. Not about Bryce. If that’s what you mean.”

  “Good. I don’t want anyone to doubt I’m the father. Not even Dr. Wallcott.”

  He was expecting her to marry him, she thought sickly. He’d made up his mind to claim her baby as his own even if it ruined his career. She didn’t understand why he would make such a sacrifice for her. Or maybe it wasn’t for her, she thought sadly, but for his lost king.

  The two of them followed several more twists and turns of the lofty hallway, then stopped outside the door to her suite.

  “Would you like to come in for coffee? Or do you need to get back to the sitting room?” she asked.

  “Nicholas can do without me for a few minutes,” he assured her. “I’ve already advised him on what and what not to say once he begins speaking with the press. Besides,” he added as he followed her into the foyer, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you privately.”

  There was that word again, she thought. The last time he’d talked with her privately, he’d proposed marriage. She couldn’t imagine him saying anything that could surprise her more. Other than the words I love you.

  But Marcus Kent was not going to be saying those words to her. Or to any woman. The sooner she realized that, the sooner she could get on with her life.

  Chapter Nine

  “If you want to take a seat, I’ll get the coffee going,” she said as the two of them entered her quiet suite.

  He nodded. “I’ll be out on the balcony,” he told her. “After the ordeal in the sitting room, I feel the need of some fresh air.”

  The coffeemaker was the instant drip kind and in only a matter of a few short minutes, Dominique was carrying a tray with the strong brew and slices of pound cake out to the balcony.

  It was still a fine, warm day, but Dominique could see a bank of rain clouds forming in the distance. Soon lightning would be dancing over the ocean and a spring storm would wash the streets of Old Stanbury.

  Marcus was standing by the balustrade looking down on the city, but the moment he heard her footstep he turned and hurried over to take the tray from her hands.

  “This isn’t the way things work, Dominique,” he scolded lightly. “Princesses are waited on by others. Not the other way around.”

  She laughed out loud and the release felt good after the tense moments they had just endured in the family sitting room.

  “Oh, Marcus, this isn’t the medieval age. And you have to remember I haven’t been living as a princess for the past four years. I like doing things for myself and for others. I’m not lazy or helpless.”

  He placed the tray on the round glass table, then helped her into one of the wrought-iron chairs. As he took a seat across from her, she pushed a mug and a small plate with a slice of cake toward him.

  “I never imagined you were either of those things,” he said, then looked at her with a new thought. “Now that you’re going to have a child, what are you going to do about your plans for the education center you wanted to build?”

  She sighed, then after a careful sip of coffee, said, “I hope I can continue with the plan. As I just said, I like helping people. Especially children. But of course, everything will hinge on how my family reacts to my having a baby. If all hell breaks loose I may have to move away and support myself.”

  The implication of her words caused a deep scowl to hood his golden-brown eyes. “You won’t be doing any such thing, Dominique!” he said sharply. “Put that idea from your mind right now!”

  Dominique bristled. “I am not your wife yet, Marcus. And if that’s the demanding attitude you took with Liza, it’s little wonder you’re not still a husband!”

  His scowl grew into a glower as he took in the thrust of her chin and the spark of defiance in her green eyes. She said things to him that no woman ever had in the past. Which was surprising. Four years ago when she’d left for college in New England, Dominique had been shy. Even uncertain as to when and how she should speak. Apparently, living in the West had changed her in more ways than one, he thought crossly.

  “I never used a demanding attitude with my ex-wife and I think it’s rather presumptuous of you to accuse me of something you know nothing about,” he said with a force that matched the approaching rain clouds.

  Undaunted by his fierce response, she studied him with raised eyebrows. “If that’s so, then why are you using it with me?”

  Her question caught him so totally off guard that all he could do was simply stare at her. And then he almost laughed to think that questions from statesmen and kings and presidents never rattled him. But for a moment this feminine form of fire sitting across from him had made him lose his tongue.

  “All right, Dominique,” he said more gently. “If I sounded as though I was being bullish, then I apologize. I only want you to understand that I’m not about to let you leave your home. Unless it’s to live with me as my wife.”

  Even though her heart was in turmoil, she had to smile. “And that’s not being demanding?”

  He heaved out a frustrated breath, then came around the table and pulled out a chair directly next to her. Easing down on the edge of the seat, he leaned toward her, his face only inches from hers.

  “Dominique, I’m not trying to be demanding. Just realistic. I want what’s best for you. I want to give you and the baby the shelter of my name.”

  That he wanted to do those things for her amazed Dominique. Yet it wasn’t enough. She was in a precarious position; she’d be the first one to admit it. But marriage was something she’d always considered serious and lifelong. To marry a man who didn’t love her would be sacrificing her dreams.

  “Marcus, when a woman marries she wants more than just her husband’s name. She wants passion and—”

  “And?”

  Love. She’d almost said the word to him, but instead she’d swallowed it down. It was humiliating to know a man had made her pregnant without loving her. Now another man wanted to make her his wife without giving her his love. She couldn’t take a double whammy of rejection.

  She drew in a deep breath then let it out. “And I understand if we were to marry—we—it would be only for appearances.”

  He looked at her blankly for a few seconds and then an odd sort of gleam entered his topaz eyes.

  “Is that what’s bothering you?” he murmured. “Is that why you’ve been hesitating about giving me an answer?”

  Her face hot with embarrassment, she looked away from him and toward the approaching storm. “Feeling wanted by her husband is important to a woman. At least, it would be important to me.”

  His reply didn’t come in words. Instead, he gathered her hands in his and she looked at him with confusion as he gently drew her to her feet.

  “If it’s passion you’re worried about, Dominique, I can supply you with plenty of that.”

  The quietly spoken words were full of promise and totally unexpected. Surprise parted her lips and tugged her gaze back to his face.

  “Are yo
u saying the marriage would be more than platonic?”

  As if to convey his message in clearer terms, he bent his head and rubbed his cheek lightly against hers. Instantly, Dominique felt her bones turn to sponge and air lodge in her lungs. The effect he had on her was more than enough to muddle her senses. It was downright frightening.

  “We don’t necessarily have to have a marriage in name only,” he explained. “You’re a beautiful woman, Dominique. A man would have to be crazy not to want to share a bed with you.”

  For a man, sharing a bed with a woman was something entirely different than sharing his heart with her, Dominique silently argued. Bryce had more than proved that adage. As for Marcus, she had yet to hear him voice anything about loving her. And even worse, she didn’t expect him to.

  In a weak flutter of protest, she flattened her hands against his chest and lightly pushed him away from her.

  “Marcus, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

  Taking hold of her shoulders, he looked at her. Frustration twisted his features and darkened his brown eyes. “You just told me you wanted passion in your marriage. Now you’re saying it’s something else. I can’t understand you, Dominique, if you don’t speak your mind and make it clear to me what it is you want.”

  She wanted to stomp on his toe for being so blind. He should be able to see and understand it was his love she wanted. Nothing else.

  Dominique countered him with a question. “Why did Liza marry you?”

  He stared at her as though her mind had suddenly sailed off into space, and then frowned with a bit of self-mockery. “I suppose you’d have to get the exact answer from her,” he said. “To this day, I’m not sure why the woman married me. At first I believed it was because she loved me. But later, I can only assume it was for my position as king’s high counsel and the social circle that being my wife put her into.”

  If that was so, then he’d truly had his heart crushed, Dominique thought sadly. And losing the baby must have been a final, fatal blow. He must have felt as though the world had crashed in on him. But that didn’t mean everything had ended. Love would find him again. All he had to do was give his heart a second chance.