H.R.H. (22 page)

“I'm not sure that's the place to be right now. I've been reading about it on the Internet. The border wars are getting worse.” The Ethiopians wanted the Eritreans' ports. They always had, and had never fully accepted the terms of the truce. “I think you got out at just the right time.” Even though she hated being home, she couldn't disagree. It had been wise.

“Have you heard from anyone at the camp?” She hadn't in weeks, not since a letter from Mary Walker, and a postcard from Ushi. Neither had said much, other than that they missed her. They were guardedly waiting to see what happened, and expecting orders from Geneva. Meanwhile they were sitting tight.

“I had a card from Geoff. He didn't say much. I don't think they know anything yet. But if there's a full-scale war there again, it's going to be a mess. They'll probably have to get out, or risk some real dangers if they stay. They might join up with the UN forces at the border, but that will put them right in the line of fire. If they do that, they'll probably close the base in Senafe.” Just thinking of that made Christianna sad. She had been so happy there. And she was sadder still for the Eritreans she had come to love so much. Another war with Ethiopia would be a terrible thing for them. They had only just recovered from the last one. “Let's get back to us,” Parker called her to order. He had to go back to work. “Paris. You, me. Us …dinner, walking along the Seine, holding hands, kisses … making love … does any of that sound familiar or even enticing?” She laughed. It sounded irresistible, not just enticing. And all of it with the man she loved.

“Who can resist?” she asked with a smile in her voice.

“I hope you can't. When can you get away? What does your schedule look like?”

“I have to go to a wedding with my father in Amsterdam this weekend. The queen of Holland's niece is getting married, and my father is her godfather. But I think I'm free the following one,” she said practically, and he was laughing at her.

“You're the only woman I know, or ever will I guess, whose social calendar is taken up by kings and queens and princes. Other people have tickets to baseball games, or church socials. You, my love, are truly my fairy princess.”

“That is precisely the problem.” And he was her Prince Charming.

“Fine. I'm perfectly willing to play second fiddle to the queen of Holland. How about the weekend after?” She quickly flipped through her social calendar and nodded.

“I could do it.” She was free, and then she paused, worried. “I don't know what I'll tell my father.”

“Tell him you need to go shopping. That's always a good excuse.” It was, but she was worried her father would want to go with her. He loved taking her to Paris. And then suddenly she remembered, and her face lit up with excitement. She could do it.

“I just remembered. He's going to a sailing race in England that weekend, in Cowes. He'll be busy.” It always impressed Parker how devoted she was, and dismayed him at the same time.

“So are we on?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

She laughed and sounded young and free again, for the first time since she got home. “We're on, my love.” She felt like she had just gotten a reprieve. Three days in Paris with him. And after that, she'd live with all the burdens she had. Just three more days with him. It was like lifeblood to her. Seeing him was the air she needed to breathe.

They made their plans. And she told her secretary to make reservations at the Ritz in Paris. He was going to do the same. They couldn't risk sharing a room, in case someone squealed at the hotel. They could leave his room empty, or hers, but they had to register separately. She was grateful he had the money to do it, and was willing to.

She asked the head of security to assign Max and Samuel to her. She knew they would be discreet and leave her alone. It would be like a reunion for them after Senafe. She could hardly wait.

She left for her official duties that afternoon with a spring in her step. She was nicer than ever to the children, more patient than she'd ever been with the old people, kinder than she was usually with people who shook her hand, or gave her flowers or hugged her. And when she went out with her father to an official dinner that night, even he noticed how happy she was. He was relieved to see it. He had been worried about her. She had seemed so unhappy since she got home, even more so than before she left. He was almost beginning to regret he had ever let her go, if it had only worsened the problem, rather than curing it. She was tireless in her kindness to the people she spoke to that night, gracious, poised, patient, intelligent. She was the daughter to him he always knew she was. What he didn't know was all that she could think about now was Parker, and seeing him again. She was living for three days in Paris with him, and would have walked across burning coals to get there. Parker was the only thing keeping her going now, the strength he gave her fueled her, and the deep, heady essence of their love.

Chapter 15

M
ax and Samuel accompanied Christianna in the car to the airport in Zurich, and teased her about what a hardship assignment this was. They both loved traveling with her, enjoyed Paris, and it was a nice break from routine for them as well. It was almost as though the Three Musketeers were on the road again, even if not for long. They had no idea she was meeting Parker in Paris. She hadn't said anything to them. She didn't want anyone to know, not even them. She wanted no slip-ups, no mistakes. This wasn't a weekend in Qohaito, far from her father's eyes. This was very close to home for her, and she knew that one slip would bring the press on her in a minute. She and Parker were going to have to be infinitely careful and relentlessly discreet.

They arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris and were escorted through customs by the head of airport security, as they always were. A chauffeured car was waiting for her, and Max and Sam got in it with her. They no longer called her “Cricky” here, but had referred to her respectfully as “Your Highness” ever since they got home. It seemed strange to hear it from them now, but she accepted that.

One of the managers of the Ritz had already checked her in when she arrived, and she was taken to a beautiful suite looking out on the Place Vendôme. She stood impatiently, looking out at the beauty of the square, hung up a few things, ordered tea, paced nervously around the room, and then, almost like in a movie, there was a knock on her door. She opened it, and there he was, more beautiful than ever. Parker, in a blazer and slacks, open-necked blue shirt, and before she could even take a good look at him, she was in his arms. They kissed so passionately that the air nearly went out of both of them. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. They hadn't seen each other in two months. It was the end of September, and he had left at the beginning of August. She felt like a drowning person gasping for air. She was speechless with joy, when he finally pulled away a little to look at her.

“My God, you look so beautiful,” he said, overwhelmed himself. He was used to seeing her the way she looked in Senafe, with her hair in a braid, in shorts and hiking boots, without makeup or elegance. Now she was wearing a pale blue wool dress the same color as her eyes, and pearls at her neck and ears. And even high heels, she pointed out. And they didn't have to worry about snakes, he teased.

Everything about seeing each other was perfect. She had planned to go for a walk with him, or stop at a small café on the Left Bank. He had had the same idea, and instead they were in bed, tightly in each other's arms within minutes. They were like starving people who needed to be fed before they could do anything else. And their passion for each other had only increased in the two months they hadn't seen each other.

Afterward they lay sated and comfortable on the impeccably pressed sheets of her bed at the Ritz, looking up at the splendid details of the ceiling, and then back into each other's eyes. She couldn't stop kissing him, and he couldn't keep himself from holding her close. It was late afternoon before they finally got up, and shared a bath in the suite's huge bathtub. Being together was almost like a drug to which they had both become addicted, and now could not live without.

They finally made it out of the room, and walked first around the Place Vendôme and then around the Left Bank. Sam and Max had been stunned and delighted when they saw him, and then realized what the weekend was about. They kept a discreet distance and followed the young lovers as they walked and talked for hours. It was as though they had never been apart. They talked about the same topics they used to, he told her about his research project, she told him what she'd been doing in Vaduz. They talked about their time in Senafe, the people they had come to love there, their concerns for the laughing, generous Eritrean people. Neither of them mentioned Fiona, because it was just too sad. This was meant to be a happy time for them, and it was.

They had coffee at the Deux Magots, talked some more, and then went across the street to the church of St. Germain des Prés, lit candles, and prayed. Christianna lit her candles for the people of Eritrea and Senafe, for Fiona, and one for them as well, hoping that somehow they would find a solution to their problem, that maybe by some miracle her father would be reasonable and allow them to pursue their love. She knew it would take a miracle for that to happen. She was relieved to know that Parker was also Catholic, because that would have been a stumbling block to her father, and a big one, probably insurmountable. At least that was one obstacle they didn't have to deal with. They had so many others to worry about, fortunately religion wasn't one of them. The throne of Liechtenstein had been Catholic since the sixteenth century, and her father was profoundly devout about their faith.

They went back to the hotel afterward, and had to delay dinner when they made love again. It was ninethirty by the time Christianna was dressed in a white pantsuit and sweater she had bought the year before at Dior. She looked like a little angel, as she left the hotel again on his arm. Sam and Max were waiting outside with the car.

They drove until they found a bistro, and then sat there for hours, talking some more. They were tireless in their interest in each other, their passion for each other's projects, their concern for each other's well-being. It was a constant exchange of information between them, of laughter, jokes, and topics that fascinated them both. She particularly liked hearing about his AIDS project, since she had become knowledgeable about it in Senafe, and now it was dear to her heart, just as he was, and everything he touched.

“And what about you, sweetheart? How's the ribbon business going?” They had come to call it that once she explained to him what it was.

“I'm doing a lot of it these days. It makes my father happy, and the people I do it for. It makes them feel important if I open their buildings for them, or whatever they want.” It was strange even to her to realize that it made a difference to them, that her presence cutting a ribbon, or saying a few words, shaking a hand, or gently touching a head, could make them feel as though they had shared in her grace and magic for a minute, and were somehow different as a result. It was something she had talked to him about at length by e-mail, the strangeness of being a person who was admired and sought out, without their truly knowing her, or if she was in fact worthy of the respect and admiration they gave her, simply because of who she had been born. It seemed magical to him as well, the fairy princess who blesses the people with her magic wand, casting a happy spell on them. She laughed when he said that to her, wishing she could do as much for herself and Parker. But in many ways, life had. Seeing him again was an enormous blessing in which they both shared. And sharing that blessing gave them more to share with others. In the warmth of Parker's love, Christianna felt she could do anything, and he said he felt the same way about her. The only problem they had, and it was an enormous one, was that they were living on stolen moments.

They fell asleep in each other's arms that night, like sleeping children, after they made love again. They couldn't get enough of each other, their thirst for each other's bodies and souls was bottomless and never quenched, or at least not for long. They had two months to catch up on, and the next morning Christianna teased him that they couldn't make up for all of it in one weekend.

“Then give me a lifetime,” Parker said, looking serious, as she lay in bed beside him.

“I wish I could,” she said, looking sad again. She hated thinking about how hopeless their situation was. Unless she was willing to walk away from her responsibilities and break her father's heart, she simply had no choice. “If it were in my power to say so, I would be yours. I am yours, in all the ways that matter.” Save one. She could not agree to marry him, and probably never could because she knew without a doubt that her father wouldn't give his consent, and she didn't want to marry Parker without that. Breaking every belief and tradition she'd been brought up to respect seemed the wrong way to start. And Parker wanted to marry her more than anything in life. He had been in love with her for seven months, and it already seemed like a lifetime to him. He wanted more now, and so did she. They promised each other to try not to think about it that day, and enjoy the time they had. He was going back to Boston, and she was flying back to Zurich on Monday night.

They spent Saturday walking along the Seine, looking at the bookstalls, playing with the puppies in the pet shops, taking a Bâteau Mouche for the fun of it, and having lunch at the Café Flore. She felt as though they had walked all over the Left Bank, into antique shops and galleries, before they let Sam and Max drive them back to the Right Bank across the Pont Alexandre III. They drove past the Louvre in all its splendor and talked about what it must have been like when it was a palace. She smiled and said that her mother had been both a Bourbon and descended from the house of Orléans. She was a Royal Highness, not a Serene one, on both sides. She explained to Parker that in order to be a “Royal” Highness, one must be directly descended from kings, which her mother was. Her father's lineage descended from princes, so he was Serene. For Parker, unfamiliar with all the royal traditions she had grown up with, it was heady stuff, in fact, a little dizzying, and so was she for him. It was the first time he had ever seen her passport, with only her Christian name.

“And that's it? No last name?” It seemed funny to him, and she smiled.

“That's it. Just Christianna of Liechtenstein. All royals have passports like that, with no surname at all. Even the queen of England, her passport just says ‘Elizabeth,’ and in her case it is followed by an R, for Regina, because she is the queen.”

“I guess Princess Christianna Williams would sound a little strange,” he said apologetically with a rueful grin.

“Not to me,” she said softly, as he kissed her again.

On their way into the hotel, they stopped at the Bar du Ritz for a drink. They were both thirsty and tired, but had had a wonderful day. Parker ordered a glass of wine, and Christianna a cup of tea. He had learned in Senafe that she almost never drank. She didn't like it, and only did so at state occasions, when she felt obliged to toast someone with champagne. Otherwise she had no great fondness for alcohol. And Parker always told her she ate like a bird. She was tiny, and had a slim but womanly figure, which he found irresistibly sexy, as he had proven often.

There was a man playing the piano at the bar of the Ritz, and as they sat there enjoying it, Christianna laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” Parker asked her with a happy smile. All he wanted was for their weekend in Paris to last forever, and so did she. They were totally in agreement on that concept.

“I was just thinking how civilized this is compared to Senafe. Imagine if we'd had a piano in the dining tent.” It was after all where their romance began.

“It might have been a very nice touch,” he laughed along with her.

“God, I miss it. Don't you?” she said longingly, with her love for Africa in her eyes.

“I do, but also because I could wake up every morning and see you, and end the day seeing you. But I have to admit that other than that, my work has been really interesting at Harvard,” more so than it had been in Senafe, although he had loved the patients he saw there. In Boston he saw no patients, but was only coordinating research. He mentioned that he had had a letter from the Dutchman who was the head of the team he'd traveled with from Doctors Without Borders. Christianna said that she admired their work tremendously, and so did Parker.

“If I were a doctor, I would do that,” she said, and he smiled at her.

“I know you would.”

“I wish I could dedicate my life to helping people, as you do. The things I do for my father seem so stupid. The ribbon business. It means nothing, to anyone,” least of all to her.

“I'm sure it means something to them,” he said gently.

“It shouldn't. I'm nothing more than a hospitality committee. My father does the real work, he makes economic decisions that affect the country positively, or negatively if he makes the wrong decision, although usually he makes the right ones.” She smiled loyally. “He makes humanitarian efforts, he makes things better for people. He takes his responsibilities so seriously.”

“So do you.” Parker was extremely impressed by that about her.

“It makes no difference. Cutting a ribbon will never change anyone's life.” She wanted to start working at the foundation that winter, but hadn't had time yet. Her father was keeping her too busy making state appearances for him, many of which were things Freddy should have been doing, but never did. In some instances, Christianna was carrying the ball for all three of them. At least if she started work at the foundation, she would feel she was doing something useful. But going to state dinners, and all her other minor duties seemed meaningless to her. And for that, she was having to give Parker up. It seemed inordinately cruel to her, just so she could be a princess, obey her father, and serve the people of Liechtenstein.

“Does your brother do anything?” Parker asked cautiously. He knew it was a sore subject with her.

“Not if he can help it. He says he will wait to grow up until he is the reigning prince, and that could be a long time from now. I hope it will be.” Parker nodded. Her brother sounded like a scoundrel and a black sheep, but he didn't say it to her.

Eventually, they went upstairs to change for dinner, but never made it out the door of their room. They wound up making love again, sitting in the bathtub together afterward, and ordering room service. And they fell asleep in each other's arms again. It was the perfect weekend.

The next day they went to mass at Sacre Coeur, and listened to a choir of nuns sing. It was a beautiful day, and they walked in the Bois de Boulogne, and smiled at people kissing and walking their babies and dogs. It was a perfect day. They went for ice cream, stopped for coffee, and finally, relaxed and happy, they drove back to the Place Vendôme, and walked into the Ritz. She had asked the concierge to make dinner reservations at Le Voltaire, which was her favorite small, chic restaurant in Paris. They had few tables, a cozy atmosphere, great service, and fabulous food.