The Marcelli Princess

6

Mia was up early the next morning. The Grands hadn’t even stirred, which meant it was her job to get the coffee going. After pouring in grounds and water, she flipped the switch, then checked out the plastic-covered cookie sheets sitting in the refrigerator.

“Cinnamon rolls,” she moaned as she hurried to the oven and dialed in the correct temperature. Caffeine and sugar. Was there any better antidote for a sleepless night?

She hovered by the coffeemaker until the hot liquid began to pour into the carafe. When there was enough to fill her mug, she pulled it out and claimed it for herself.

The first sip tasted heavenly. As the warmth slid down her throat and settled in her belly, she felt the first stirring of consciousness. Unfortunately with that came too-clear memories of the previous evening.

Had Rafael really proposed? She told herself he couldn’t have, then took another drink of coffee and realized he had.

Marriage? She wasn’t sure she wanted to get married. Besides, they barely knew each other, and while she had many really fabulous qualities, she doubted she would make much of a princess. She could barely find Calandria on a map.

Marriage? No way. She and Rafael were intelligent adults. They could find a way to share their son without resorting to what would only turn out to be a disaster.

“Good morning.”

She looked up and saw the man in question standing in the doorway. His hair was damp from his shower, his body casually clad in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and his mouth…

Suddenly she couldn’t stop looking at his mouth. Because whatever was the same or different about him, his mouth and his voice were exactly as she remembered.

Then, without meaning to, she suddenly recalled another kind of kiss from him. An intimate one that had her screaming out her release as he licked and-

“Morning,” she managed through suddenly dry lips. She took a gulp of coffee and motioned to the nearly full carafe. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

He poured himself a mug and took a drink. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not really.”

“Anything in particular keeping you up?”

“An unnatural concern about interest rates and the latest drought in Africa.”

“Really? I had no idea you were so concerned about current events.”

“Sarcasm, Rafael. That was sarcasm.”

He smiled slightly. “Yes, I know.” He took another drink. “I did not mean to distress you with my proposal.”

“Distress really doesn’t cover it. I was confused-a pretty continuous state of affairs since you showed up in my bed.” She frowned. “You could have just knocked on the front door.”

“Perhaps, but far less interesting an entrance. Besides, I have not missed being at your front door.”

Good one, she thought. The implication being he missed her bed. Or, one dared to assume, her in his bed.

“I, too, did not sleep well. You kept me up, Mia. I could not stop thinking about you.”

“Yes, well, how interesting.” She moved to the far side of the kitchen just as the oven beeped. Damn. Now he stood between her and cinnamon rolls.

He glanced at the appliance. “Are you baking?”

“Grammy M made cinnamon rolls last night. They need to go in the oven. They’re in there.”

She jerked her head toward the refrigerator. He crossed the room and removed them, then slid them into the oven.

“Better?” he asked.

“I will be in about twenty minutes.” She glanced from him to the oven. “You know your way around the kitchen.”

He grinned. “Yes, even I, Prince Rafael of Calandria, can find an oven in a kitchen. If you promise to show the proper amount of awe, I’ll cut up some fruit later.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I tease a little. I might live in a palace, but I do know how to exist in the real world.”

“Unlikely.”

“Why do you doubt me? I was on my own all through university. When I pretended to be Diego, I took care of myself.”

“Barely. You had an entire harem of women. I distinctly remember being stunned by the number of otherwise intelligent women so eager to do the smallest thing for you.”

He moved closer. “You are correct, but the leader of the pack always has his choice of the females. Diego was no exception. But you were not so willing to be my slave. You insisted I serve you.”

“I have a very high IQ,” she said primly. Mostly she’d refused to trail around after him in an effort to stand out. It had worked, although not in the way she’d imagined.

“One of them noticed I had my eye on you,” he said. “She came after you.”

“With a knife.” Mia still remembered her fear and outrage when a tall blonde from northern Italy had called her some very disgusting names and ordered her to leave. Mia hadn’t noticed the knife until she’d already told off the other woman.

“Do you still have a scar?” he asked as he placed his hand on her side.

The warmth of his fingers made it difficult to think, but she managed to nod. “It’s pretty faint but still there.”

“The cut was not deep, but there was much blood. You were very brave.”

She’d been stunned by the swift attack. Rafael-a.k.a. Diego-had reacted with fury. The other woman had been sent away and told she would be killed if she returned. He had then taken Mia to his private rooms and had carefully stitched the cut. That night, he’d claimed her as his own. She still remembered how gentle he’d been, how careful so that she wouldn’t feel any pain from her wound.

She’d already been half in love with him. His tenderness had pushed her over the edge. Afterward she’d been unable to sleep as she’d wrestled with the moral dilemma of her situation. She’d fallen in love with the enemy-a classic, almost clichéd, mistake.

As soon as she’d been able to get away, she’d contacted the agent in charge and explained that she was afraid of compromising the mission. She’d asked to be removed. Instead her boss had told her to suck it up and stay in play.

“There were no other women after you, Mia. Do you remember?”

His words made her more uncomfortable than the memories of her horror at being torn between her mission and the man she loved.

“I remember,” she said softly, not wanting to let him get to her. Not again. Not until she was sure. Which might be never.

But he was telling the truth. From the second the two of them had become lovers, he hadn’t looked at another woman. How long had it taken him to get over her?

He moved to the table and took a seat across from her. “My guilty secret,” he said with a shrug. “I made you promise not to tell.”

“I never knew why it was such a big deal. So you don’t cheat. Most women consider that a good thing.”

“My father has kept mistresses all his life. Usually two or three at a time. They know about each other and on the surface all is well. I was never comfortable with that. I could see the pain in their eyes.”

He looked away, as if embarrassed by the turn in the conversation. That surprised her, and in a good way. She liked knowing that the imperious crown prince had a weakness or two. Twenty would be better but she would take what she could get.

“Tell me about life in the palace,” she said, taking pity on him and changing the subject.

“It is not so different from your world,” he said.

She laughed. “Oh, please. Royalty. It has to be different. Do you have your own wing or county or something?”

“I live elsewhere, in a private house on the edge of the sea. I am close enough to be reached quickly if there is an emergency, but I do not still live at home.”

“I wouldn’t have thought living in the palace would count as living at home.”

“I learned very quickly that it was difficult to take girls to my room when we had to tiptoe past my father’s quarters. At twenty, such things mattered to me.”

“They would matter at any age. Okay, so you get up and one of your several harem women prepares you for your shower.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I do not have harem women.”

“Not a good crop this year?”

“I get myself ready in the morning.”

“What? No servants?”

“A handful. They prepare my breakfast and take care of my clothes.”

“Nice work if you can get it. Then what?”

“Then I drive to the palace for my morning meetings with my father and officials from our government.”

“Do Umberto and Oliver tag along?”

“I have bodyguards in a car following me.”

This was one of the strangest conversations Mia could remember having. To her, none of what Rafael talked about was real, yet every bit of it was his life.

“So what happens after a hard morning of governing the little people?”

“You mock me.”

“It’s something I’m really good at. The reverence thing has always been a problem. Fortunately I don’t run into many people deserving of that kind of attitude.”

He sighed. “You are going to be difficult, but I expected as much.”

“Really?” The thought pleased her.

“Of course. You forget, I know you. You are too smart for your own good and intimidated by no one. A dangerous combination.”

“Ooh, let me guess. For a woman.”

“For anyone. And to answer your question, which you have probably already forgotten, I lunch with different heads of state or visiting dignitaries. Sometimes I meet with officials in parliament. I spend my afternoons with charity work-I deal with three international organizations-or events in the city. Once a week or so there is an official dinner or fund-raiser of some kind.”

“Sounds boring,” she said. “What do you do for fun?”

“Polo, sailing, skiing, mountain climbing. I keep busy.”

Her idea of excitement was a twilight stroll around the vineyards, followed by an extra glass of wine with dinner. They were practically twins separated at birth.

“I am in the unique position of training for a job that I may not have for years,” he said. “I do not wish my father to die, yet this is the expected way of succession.”

“Would he abdicate?”

“We have talked about it. He does not want me to wait indefinitely.”

“So you would be king sooner rather than later?”

He nodded.

She didn’t like the sound of that. Not with a proposal still hanging between them. Bad enough to be a lousy princess, but it was so much worse to be a horrible queen.

“You would do well,” he said, reading her mind.

“I have many, many doubts. I could put them into categories and have them spiral bound for you, if you’d like.”

“Calandria is a small country. Your duties-”

She cut him off with a strangled cough. “See, that’s the thing. Any sentence that begins with the words your duties isn’t for me. I’m not the duty type.”

“There would be compensations.”

She wasn’t sure if he was going to talk about the wealth and relative power or the thrill of being married to him. Right now she didn’t want to think about either.

“What about Danny?” she asked. “What would his life be like?”

“He would have tutors.”

“Now?”

“Of course. There’s much he has to learn.”

That didn’t sound good. She remembered what Rafael had told her about his years growing up.

“Just so we’re clear,” she said flatly, “he’s not being sent away to some European boarding school. He can go to a regular school with other Calandrian children.”

Rafael stiffened as if she’d slapped him. “My son is the heir to the Calandrian throne.”

“Funny, because my son is just a little boy. Are you saying Calandrian schools are substandard?”

“Of course not. They are the best in Europe.”

“Then think of the money we’ll save. Besides, if Danny is going to grow up to rule the people, doesn’t it make sense that he get to know them from an early age?”

She could feel Rafael winding himself up for some kind of princely tirade, so she quickly asked, “Did you like being sent away when you were all of seven? Didn’t you miss your friends and your family? Do you really want that for Danny?”

“There are traditions,” he began.

“There’s also reality. It’s a new century, Rafael. How about pushing the monarchy into it? I’m not sending Danny away to school.”

She also was fairly sure she wasn’t going to be marrying Rafael anytime soon, although the idea was fun to think about.

“You are right,” he said, stunning her into silence. “I did not enjoy being sent away. I was angry and resentful. I vowed it would be different for my son.”

“You might want to remember that,” she said, trying not to melt at the thought of a scared and lonely seven-year-old Rafael.

“Was it too horrible?” she asked.

“I survived. I had my uncle Vidal, who visited me frequently. My father’s brother,” he added. “We were close. Much closer than I ever was with my father.”

She imagined it would be tough to get close to the king. “It’s too bad your father didn’t remarry. Having a woman around would have helped.”

“Perhaps, but my father had done his duty and saw no reason to do it again.”

Marriage as duty-an interesting concept. “What about marrying for love?” she asked.

Rafael took her hand and lightly kissed the tips of her fingers. “Such a thing would not occur to him.”

“What are your thoughts on the concept?”

His blue eyes darkened with emotion. “I have turned down three acceptable arranged marriages and I have been unable to tell my father why. Each of the women was exactly what I said I wanted, and yet when the time came, I was not willing to marry for duty.”

“What did you say you wanted?” she asked.

He smiled. “You know that is not important.”

“I want to know how close a match I would be.”

“You are Mia,” he told her. “That is enough.”

Great response, she thought. He was good at saying exactly the right thing. She really was going to have to go online and become more familiar with his past. Was he serious about the three potential princesses?

“You worry for nothing,” he said as he stood and came around to her side of the table. He pulled her to her feet. “Remember what it was like between us. Think of how it could be again.”

Dangerous territory. She knew she could easily get lost in the past, and that wasn’t a smart place to hang out. She had a pretty big present to worry about, including an almost four-year-old son who would-amazingly enough-one day rule Calandria.

“Rafael, I’ve been thinking, and it’s the reason I’m up so early this morning. What you proposed…” Bad choice of words. “Your suggestion is really flattering, but I can’t see how we could ever make it work.”

“I will show you.” He moved in close and wrapped his arms around her.

She already had a good idea of where this was going. Not her favorite thing before she finished her first cup of coffee, but based on how great his kiss had been last night, she just might make an exception.

But before his mouth could claim hers, she heard footsteps in the hallway.

“Okay, that would be a chaperone on demand,” she murmured as she stepped back and did her best not to look flustered.

David walked into the kitchen, took one look at them, and started back out. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just came down for coffee. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t. Really.” Mia lunged toward him and grabbed his arm. “Rafael and I were finished.”

Rafael smiled. “I would not say ‘finished,’ but we can certainly pick this up again later. Go ahead, David. Have your coffee. I will go and wake my son.”

“Danny will like that,” Mia said, more grateful for the interruption than she could say. Things were messed up enough without her getting lost in a sensual fog with Rafael. Sexual chemistry had never been their issue.

David crossed to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug. When Rafael had left, he looked at Mia.

“You always did do things in a big way.”

She sighed. “This time, I didn’t mean to. It was just one of those things.”

He grinned. “Having a baby with the crown prince of a European nation doesn’t just happen.”

“It did to me. A week ago my life was perfectly normal. I had my plan. Finish law school, get a good job, get Danny into a nice private school in L.A., buy a condo. Suddenly I’m worried about co-parenting with a future monarch. It’s unnerving.”

“If anyone can handle it, you’re the one.”

She didn’t feel like the one. She felt inadequate to the task and uneasy about Rafael. He was too charming, too everything. How was she supposed to resist him?

“It’s good to see you,” she said.

“I always like coming up here. The fact that we’re planning a wedding here only gives me more excuses.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Dinner turned into a disaster.”

“What’s up with Kelly? She was wasted.”

“I don’t know. I thought Francesca was going to pop a blood vessel. And Etienne. Yuck. Why is it some men think avoiding regular hygiene makes them sexy?”

The timer on the oven dinged. She grabbed a hot pad and pulled out the cinnamon rolls.

“You were always a frequent bather,” she said. “I appreciated that. I just want you to know.”

“Not a very high standard.”

“I have others.”

David was good-looking, in an easy all-American kind of way. While he and Mia were exactly the same age, their lives were so different. He’d graduated from college, gotten a great job at an investment firm, and had the perfect life. He was engaged to someone Mia liked a lot, owned his own home, and knew exactly where he wanted to be in twenty years.

She was a single mother, still living at home, with another year left in law school. Okay, yes, she had a master’s and had been a spy, but she still felt as if she were waiting for her grown-up life to start.

David leaned against the counter. “I need your help.”

She perked up. “Is this a shopping thing, because I am in the mood to spend some serious cash and it’s always better if it isn’t mine.”

“It’s not a shopping thing.”

Damn. David had taken her with him to pick out Amber’s engagement ring. They’d found the perfect set, with a 1.6 carat cushion-cut center stone. Mia considered it one of her crowning achievements in spending other people’s money.

“It’s Amber.”

“What about Amber? She’s fabulous.” Mia grabbed the ingredients for frosting and set them on the counter. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

“I’m not,” he said quickly. “How could I? Amber is incredible. Pretty and gentle and kind, and she thinks I’m funny.”

“It’s a miracle,” Mia told him.

“Gee, thanks. She adores me, and I can’t imagine ever loving anyone as much as I love her. I want to have kids with her. I want to grow old with her. I want to buy an RV with her.”

“RV buying means it is serious.” She measured out powdered sugar and butter. “So what’s the problem?”

“You.”

Mia paused in the act of pouring milk. “Excuse me?”

“She doesn’t understand how I could have been in love with you once and not still be in love with you.”

“Oh, please. You had me and realized you didn’t want me.”

He winced.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” she added quickly. “We were young and thought we were in love. We weren’t. End of story.”

“She doesn’t see it that way. Every time we come here, she can’t stop talking about you.” He held up his free hand. “Before you say anything, I already thought about staying away, but we’re supposed to get married here. It was Amber’s idea. There are family holidays and gatherings. There’s no way to avoid you.”

“Kind of like flu season germs.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do and I feel bad. Have you told her there’s nothing between us? That we’re like brother and sister-not that we were when we were having sex, because ick.”

He grinned. “I’ve mentioned the brother/sister thing. And that you weren’t very good in bed.”

She glared at him. “Ha!”

“Mia, seriously. I need help.”

“I’m not an expert,” she told him. “Look, be honest with her. Tell her you don’t want to lose her. Tell her no one else has ever mattered as much. That you’d be lost without her.”

Sort of all the things she’d felt when she’d flown away in that helicopter after thinking she’d just watched Diego die. It had been the worst moment of her life.

“Tell her she’s your world.”

“You think?” he asked.

“I know. It’ll work. Trust me.”

“Thanks.” He put down his coffee and held out his arms.

Mia abandoned her frosting and stepped into his embrace.

David felt good-solid and familiar. Like family.

“I mean this in a very nonromantic way,” she said. “But I never stopped loving you.”

“I know exactly how you feel.”

Life being what it was, the short, friendly, comforting silence didn’t last long. Mia distinctly heard a gasp. She turned just as David swore, and wasn’t the least bit surprised to see a wide-eyed Amber quickly backing out of the kitchen.

David pushed Mia away with a speed that was almost comical. Mia watched him hurry after the woman of his dreams.

She finished with the frosting. Then, despite her earlier hunger for cinnamon rolls, she left them on the counter and climbed the stairs to her room. Once inside, she crossed to the dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer.

There were all kinds of mementos inside. Yearbooks, pictures from school, postcards from everywhere she’d traveled.

She wondered if she should help David explain, then shook her head. Nothing she could say would make a difference. The situation wasn’t actually about her-it was Amber’s inability to trust her fiancé and his feelings for her.

Funny how easy it was to see what was wrong with everyone else while she still wrestled with her own demons. Speaking of which…

She pulled out a small jewelry box from a corner of the drawer. Inside was a simple silver ring. Nothing fancy, no stones or engraving. But Diego had bought it for her one afternoon. He’d slipped it on her left ring finger and had kissed her.

“Now you are always mine,” he told her. “For as long as the ring survives, so does our love.”

She’d worn it nearly a year after she’d come back home. Then, after Danny had been born, she’d removed it and stored it away. The love that had been so precious to her was not destined to last.

Or was it? Diego was back, in a different form. The same man, a different person.

Could she trust him? Did he mean what he’d said? Did he want to marry her?

And if so, what did she want? Hadn’t she just spent five years wishing for the impossible-the return of her one true love? Was she going to let him get away just because he happened to be the heir to a throne?