MAID FOR A PRINCE: (Book 1) (Point St. Claire, where true love finds a way) (15 page)

“I haven’t been able to keep from my mind,” he murmured, “that last night we spent together.”

“In our bay.” Sighing, she lifted her lips and took her time tasting his. “I’ve never been so happy.”

His fingers twining through her hair, his mouth dropped over hers, and as the kiss deepened, longing swelled until she burned for him with her body and soul. Her touch traced his hot muscles as she arched into his hard length. When she reached beneath his shirt, fanning fingers over his chest, his throat rumbled and lips dragged away.

“I want nothing more from this world than to be with you,” he said.

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “Kiss me again. Don’t leave me yet.”

But when her mouth grazed his, his hand on her shoulder held her firm. “We’ll be married. Soon there’ll be no need for shadows.” Their foreheads touched. “One day soon, you’ll be my wife.”

“Dear love,” she found his hand and pressed it to her heart “let me be your wife tonight.”

When Acadia opened her eyes sometime later, it took a moment to grasp where she was.

The space around her rippled with flickering shadows, her body was free of clothes, and Leandros stood nearby with his back to her, his shoulders locked, and his fists balled at his sides. She pushed up on an elbow. She remembered now. They were holed-up in a cave on the second island.

She looked across. The baby was awake too, but quiet, as if he were listening. On the far wall, nestled among the shadows, the figurine seemed to smile over at them all. Then Acadia recalled the riot, the confusion, and the pain, and her stomach plunged as if she’d just jumped off the balcony, too.

How long had they slept? And Leandros was so still.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He held up a hand, a signal to hush, and her stomach lurched again. As a royal princess, she was used to getting answers, and she needed one now because that feeling of falling, of deepest dread, filled her so fast she thought she might drown.

She snatched up her dress, punched her arms through the sleeves, and then she pulled on her undergarment, the item Leandros had slid off when she’d persuaded him to hold her as closely as he could. In those few moments when they’d made love, she’d never known a greater joy, a stronger connection. Their joining only proved they were meant to be together. The bond—the love—was too powerful to deny.

A seed of a thought began to bloom. Her gaze shot over to the fertility figurine at the same instant her hand went to her belly. But this wasn’t the time to wonder about legends or consequences. Clearly Leandros was worried. Perhaps he’d heard something. A rat or flapping bat?

Acadia fitted her shoes, chastising herself. She shouldn’t have asked him to stay. Yet in her heart she couldn’t regret it. She hoped he didn’t either, even if he was wary now.

A sound—the distant falling of pebbles—filtered toward them, and Acadia stiffened. A shiver raced up her spine. Carefully she reached for the baby, standing as she drew him in near to her breast. He was soaked through and no doubt hungry. This moment she couldn’t help him with either. Her gaze glued to the shadows beyond the chamber entrance, she shushed against his little ear.

“Stay quiet, dear heart. Be good a little longer.”

The sound of scuffling pebbles came again, then the echo of a weight splashing into a puddle. Her heartbeat thudding now, Acadia edged back. Not rats. Others had discovered this cave. Whoever it was, they might make different turns, may not even reach them in here at all—but then the baby whimpered and the noise reverberated as loudly as the rumble of thunder. At least it seemed that way to her ears.

A deathly silence followed. Everything stood frozen. Acadia prayed. If she didn’t breathe, maybe she would wake again and this time find Leandros returning from the villa with enough provisions to help them reach safety. She wouldn’t be standing here, quaking, offering her soul in exchange for escape—for another chance.

As time wound on, her eyes began to sting. She blinked, and in that instant the gates of hell were thrown apart.

A bear of a man appeared at the chamber’s entrance. Leandros yelled at him to stop, but the man charged on. Then they were clashing, growling like dogs, throwing punches. Acadia tossed a frantic glance around. She needed to help, in some way needed to fight too.

She lay the baby down and jumped on the intruder’s broad back. Bucking, he threw her off into the air. Her chin hit the rock floor and spinning stars exploded before her eyes. When the flashes faded, she rolled onto her side, crawled to her knees, and then to her feet. Out of the darkness, the goddess’s form, the figurine, appeared like a prize before her, wise and benevolent.

The men were scuffling, rolling and skidding over the ground. Leandros held a dagger but the other man had a gun. Someone was about to die, and Acadia needed to make certain who—

Helene groaned.

They’d reached the last page, but clearly the story didn’t end there.

“Guess we have another search on our hands.”

“If it takes me ten years,” Tahlia said, just as disappointed, “I’ll find the rest of that story.”

Helene raised a brow. “That sounds as if you’re going to hang around.”

“This is my home. It’s where all my memories begin. No matter where I go, I’ll always come back home, even if it’s just to visit.” Tahlia squeezed Helene’s hand. “Particularly when I’m an auntie.”

Later that evening, sitting at the foot of their bed, Helene filed her nails in between watching Darius pace. He was still torn about Tahlia and Otis going on vacation together. 

“You know, Tahlia told me today that this would always be her home.”

“Otis and I need to have a long talk before they leave,” Darius said, pacing back, frowning. “He needs to respect her.”

“I’m sure he already does.”

“And if she gets pregnant?”

“Like we got pregnant.”

He stopped. A mix of expressions crossed his face before he took a seat alongside of her. “It really is out of my hands.”

“We have it all ahead of us with this one.” She placed his hand on her tummy.

“Seeing Alexio’s granddaughter the other day…” He sighed. “She’s so
small
.”

“Word is they grow up quickly.”

He chuckled. “
Too
quickly.”

He stole a kiss that turned into a heavy duty embrace. Together they fell back onto the mattress.

When the kiss slowly broke, he fanned a hand over her hair. “I think I’m done pacing.”

“In that case, I’m done with my nails.”

His palm traced the flat plane of her belly as if it contained the world’s greatest and most mysterious treasure—which it did.

“I wonder whether we have a boy or a girl.”

“Could be both.”

“Twins?” His head lowered and he kissed the spot his hand had caressed. “Lots of diapers.”

“Twice as much to love.”

His gaze drifted up to hers. His jaw shifted, and then he took a breath like he had something important he needed to say. Helene wondered if he wanted to say that his feelings for her had deepened. Not because he needed to reassure her, but because he’d truly fallen in love with her, like she’d fallen in love with him. Lately, she wondered if there’d ever been a time when she hadn’t loved this man.

Tugging the sash from around her waist, he was about to kiss her again when the bedroom extension rang.

“Who’s calling at this time?” she asked.

Darius reached for the phone. “There are only a handful of people who know this direct line.”

He picked up and muttered a greeting. Soon his face turned dark and he pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

Helene moved into the attached bathroom. She didn’t want to eavesdrop.

She slipped into a white lace negligee, brushed her hair and her teeth, dabbed on French perfume from an ornate bottle Darius had given her then, opening the door, moved back into the bedroom. Finished with his call, shoulders rounded, Darius was still sitting in the same spot. He didn’t move, didn’t look up.

A shiver brushed over her skin. Who had he spoken to on that special extension? 

His voice was low, graveled. “That was Galen. He’s decided not to wait until the coronation to visit. He’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

Sinking down beside him, Helene digested the news. “Will he bring his wife?”

“He’s coming alone for a short stay, he said.” Groaning, Darius dropped his head in his hands. “I want to see him, but he couldn’t come at a worse time. I wanted to announce our engagement this week. We don’t need any bad memories stirred up.”

“Maybe his being here will help. Everyone can see for themselves that whatever the reason your uncle was pushed out, that’s all in the past. They’ll know you’ve both moved on, made amends. They’ll see that times have changed.”

He stood and crossed to a sideboard, poured a scotch and tossed it back. He looked more agitated than she’d ever seen him. 

“It’s been so long,” she said. “He’s older. People probably won’t even recognize him.” She propped up a pillow, patted the sheet. “You can’t do anything about it now. Try and get some rest.”

“I told you about the group who tried to take my mother hostage,” he said. “That they were rallying to get rid of us all. There are always those types lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to dredge up trouble.”

When his gaze traveled from her face to her belly, Helene’s hands automatically covered the spot. This was all speculation. Calm and peace had reigned here for decades, and it would continue to reign during and after Galen’s visit. They just needed to think clearly. Put things into perspective.

She left the bed and crossed over to him. “Sometimes thinking about something is worse than when it actually happens.”

He started pacing again.

God, she hated seeing him like this.

Helene tried again. “You should try to keep calm.”

“I’m as calm as I can be.”

He threw back another scotch and reached for the decanter again. Her hand gripped his.

“Sit down,” she begged.

“I need to think this through.”

“I just want to…”

“Help?” Looking defeated, he closed his eyes. “You can’t.”

Because she’d only make things worse? Because she didn’t really understand?

She ought to simply get under the covers and wait for him to settle down and join her when he was ready. But was this a taste of what her life here with Darius would be like? They’d just gotten engaged and she felt as if she’d been relegated into a space.

She watched him set off again, refilled glass in one hand. He was thinking more about yesterdays than tomorrows. Both his parents had passed on recently. Soon he would be crowned king, be married, become a father. She understood he was under pressure, but storming around wouldn’t help.

Didn’t help her, either.

“Darius, please, just take a few deep breaths.”

He continued to pace.

“Nothing can change the past,” she said. “Your father would understand that. Your father would want you to—”

“Helene, please, leave me be!”

At the same time he snapped, Darius hurled the glass at a wall and Helene froze with fright. After a moment, he shook his head slowly. He glanced at the shattered glass and dragged a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I didn’t mean to—”    

He was walking toward her when a noise—a thud—filtered through the room. His brow wrinkled before his eyes widened. Then he strode directly to the cabinet that housed the figurine. He parted the curtain. When he leaned against the wall for support, Helene covered her mouth but a gasp still escaped.

The figurine was on the floor. Her head was separated from her body, which was cracked through in half a dozen places. 

Darius sank to his knees. Carefully, he collected a piece and cradled it in his hands, close to his chest. The figurine wasn’t the only one broken. Darius looked destroyed, too.

“She was set well back,” he rasped. “I-I don’t understand.” His gaze drifted up from the rock and, frowning, he blinked. “Have you taken her out? God, if you wanted to see her again, Helene, why didn’t you just ask?”

What?
“I didn’t go anywhere near her.”

At his deepest level, he was a Vasily, a man whose veins ran with centuries of royal blood. For all his education and talk about the progress of his country, he’d been taught to respect tradition and half listen to superstition. To believe in prophecy. The cave-in, the pregnancy, Galen coming home, now the figurine lying there destroyed…

She read his mind.

His entire life,
everything
, had changed the day he’d met her.

Thirty minutes later, in a private sitting room at the other end of the palace, Darius snatched the stopper off a crystal decanter and grabbed a glass. Then he remembered the scene earlier—how he’d lost control, raised his voice, tossed that glass—and he set the stopper back in its place.