MAID FOR A PRINCE: (Book 1) (Point St. Claire, where true love finds a way) (17 page)

When Helene saw Tahlia rushing down the garden path with that river of glossy dark hair flowing behind her, she willed away the sick feeling churning in her stomach and put on a smile.

“Darius just told me,” Tahlia called out before she’d stopped. “You’re leaving? For how long? What about the baby?”

While Helene swallowed against the ache in her throat, trying to find answers to impossible questions, Tahlia went on.

“Darius is worried. Looking at you now, so am I.” Tahlia took Helene’s hands. “What happened?”

“I just need to go home for a while. Let my friends and mom know I’m still alive. Let them know what’s happened.”

Of course, that wasn’t all. Helene wanted to explain to Tahlia how she felt responsible for putting Darius under so much pressure. Her mother had implied more than once that she attracted trouble. More and more, she felt like Darius’s giant bad luck charm.

She was about to ask Tahlia to come see her off at the dock later that day when she saw someone waiting a short distance away. Darius stood outside the gilded pavilion where they’d enjoyed a late breakfast many mornings. He looked so tall and darkly handsome. Her cheeks flushed and heart sank thinking of all the beautiful moments they’d shared wrapped up in each other’s arms.

But Darius had only proposed because of the baby she carried. If she were to slip out of his life, rather than
distance making the heart grow fonder
, the miles apart might make him realize he could shake her off. He didn’t need to marry her. She would never keep a child from his father. A shared custody could be worked out. Not ideal but perhaps better than tying Darius to a person who seemed to constantly cause him grief.

Besides, as wonderful as her time here had been, she missed her home: the shops and people and food. She even missed her mother. And she’d always vowed never to marry unless the relationship was cemented in love and trust. Darius had never said that he loved her. And standing here now, watching his shoulders roll as he sauntered over, looking so sexy and strong, so worldly and wonderful, she felt a fool that she’d held out hope that he would.

Tahlia glanced over a shoulder and saw her brother, too. “He spoke with Otis, you know. He said he’s fine with us going on vacation together. Otis said he really seemed to mean it. But he never would have accepted us being together if he hadn’t met you.”

With that lump in her throat growing, Helene hugged her friend before Tahlia left and Darius joined her. A sea breeze tugged at his hair, and his eyes—black diamonds glittering in the sunshine—appeared devoid of emotion.

Helene sensed the trip-wire tension rippling beneath the surface. If he thought pressuring her to stay would work, he was mistaken. She might feel as if she was breaking inside but, for a dozen reasons, her mind was made up.

“Did you meet your uncle?” she asked.

He nodded. “Galen came back to make amends. Seems he hasn’t got long to live.”

Helene’s chest tightened. That news fit with why Galen pushed his visit forward. She could imagine how distraught his poor wife must be. She wanted to ask how long Galen was staying, whether anyone had recognized him, but she couldn’t think straight.

Darius simply looked at her, drinking in every plane and curve of her face, which made her prickle and tingle all over. It made her want to change her mind about going. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“I’m leaving late this afternoon,” she said. When his eyes darkened more, she took a breath and went on. “I’d rather you didn’t see me off.”

“You want us to say good-bye here? Now?”

She ached to have him kiss her and then murmur against her ear that he’d miss her. She longed to feel his hard, strong body pressed up against hers. But it was better they didn’t touch at all.

She said, “I’ll come by before I leave.”

He sucked down a breath. Even smiled. “I have a gift for you. It’s back at the pavilion.”

If it was a ring, Helene couldn’t accept it. Still, he’d taken her news well and, God help her, she wanted a few minutes longer with him, so she followed him through the gardens a final time.

As they moved inside the pavilion and Darius crouched to recover something off the floor, Helene wondered again what the gift could be. When her gaze landed on what he held out, she shook her head, dumbfounded. Not possible. She’d seen it with her own eyes—the figurine had been smashed. Nothing had been left but chunks of rock and rubble.

“That’s a replica,” she decided. Like the ones sold at markets.

“Actually, the figurine we brought back from the other island, the one destroyed last night, was the fake. Apparently a long line of Chief Aides has kept this, the real goddess, safe under their personal lock and key.”

Her mind was spinning. It couldn’t be.

The real figurine was safe?

“I’ve spoken with Yanni,” Darius went on. “We’ve decided to take your advice. As soon as it’s finished, she’ll have her own special room with a glass viewing panel so that people can visit and see her for themselves.”

Helene coughed out a laugh. She wanted to throw her arms around Darius but she was afraid she might make him drop the true treasure he held. So, instead she found her voice along with a trembling smile.

“You’re going to make a great king.”

“I’d rather make a great husband.”

“Darius…”

“I know you’ve had a few accidents. But as far as I’m concerned, everything you touch is gold. If I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t feel so sure about my future here. I wouldn’t feel so lucky to have found you. To have found…”

“Your Highness!”

Both Darius and Helene spun toward the cry as Yanni barreled over. His face was ashen.

“People are gathering outside the gates. News has spread. Pamphlets are circulating. It’s been on the radio, on television.”

While Helene’s mind leaped to earthquake, war, tidal wave, Darius stepped forward. “What’s happened?”

“Someone has learned about that other figurine. That it was brought back from the island. That it was destroyed. They are saying…”

When his gaze dropped, Darius prodded. “What? What are they saying?”

“That a foreigner, a woman, broke it into a million pieces.”

Darius’s voice dropped. “What else?”

“They say you are bewitched. That she tricked you into a marriage proposal.” Yanni’s complexion turned gray when he ground out the words. “They’re accusing her of carrying another man’s child.”

Darius handed the figurine to Yanni and charged off. With legs heavy as lead pipes, Helene trailed behind.

“How many are outside the gates?” Darius asked Yanni as they strode.

“The number grows by the minute.”

“Any signs of violence? Weapons?”

“Not yet. The helicopter’s prepared.” Yanni scrambled to keep up with the prince’s long strides. “If they don’t disperse, we shouldn’t take any chances.”

“The guard?”

“Are at the gates and surround the perimeter of the palace. One last thing… A photo accompanies the articles. A picture of you and your uncle taken this morning at the taverna in town.”

Helene lost her step. “At Alexio’s?”

Suddenly everything Darius warned her about had come true. Unrest rising in the city. Superstition taking the place of common sense. Her mother had cautioned that she should keep in mind that while other countries might appear exotic and exciting, they had their own rules and ways of handling problems. It seemed
she
was the problem now.

They traveled up to the second story, to a room with a balcony overlooking the front grounds and gate. While Darius strode out to hold onto the railing and take in the scene, Helene hung back with Yanni. She felt cold all over, as if she’d stepped into some bizarre, otherworld reality. She was the cause of all this anger and fear. This couldn’t be happening.

Noise was swelling. People called out. Occasionally a woman wailed. Helene wanted to rush out and set them all straight. The goddess was safe. Soon they would see for themselves. And while it was true that Darius had proposed to her, she was not carrying another man’s child. And even if she was, was that a reason to start a riot?

But her thoughts reeled back to that hand-written story…to how that crowd a hundred years ago hadn’t wanted to listen.

The royal guard wouldn’t let anyone slip through. Surely the police would be here soon.

A man appeared. Yanni seemed to immediately recognize him.

The Chief Aide bowed. “Your Highness.”

The man touched Yanni’s shoulder. “Hello, old friend.” Then he gazed out over the disturbance while Yanni filled him in. His face lined with concern, the man looked to her. “You must be Helene. I am Darius’s Uncle Galen.”

Galen radiated an air of calm even in these circumstances. When he squeezed her hand, she instantly felt reassured, perhaps because Darius’s uncle also knew how it felt to be the reason behind this kind of unrest.

Darius returned from the balcony. He acknowledged his uncle then spoke to Yanni.

“The police?”

“Some units are out there now, trying to disperse the most vocal.”

“But they’ll only come back,” Darius surmised.

Galen added, “And they’ll be angrier. More organized.”

Darius’s pensive look evaporated into decision. “I’ll speak to them.”

Holding his glasses, Yanni shook his head. “Wait until it calms down.”

“This won’t wait.” Darius headed off again. “Send word to open the gates.”

Yanni called after him. “I advise against it. You should leave, Your Highness. Leave now.”

Stopping at the door, Darius spun around. “Then how will I ever return? I’ll be seen as a coward. As if I’m guilty. But if I make a stand and give them the truth—”

“Someone will have a gun,” Yanni pressed.

Galen indicated Helene. “Take her, Darius, and get out of here.”

Darius froze for an instant before clamping shut his eyes. When he opened them, he looked to Helene and searched her face as if it held some magical answer.

“What do you think?” he asked her.

Helene felt the blood drain to her feet. She wasn’t qualified to offer an opinion. She was the cause of this all. But she was also carrying his baby. Above all else, her responsibility lay with protecting their unborn child. Darius would know that, too.

Darius went on, his eyes pleading. “If you think we should leave, we’ll leave. We’ll go now.”

The din had grown louder. Outside, debris was being hurled onto the lawn, but it was all a misunderstanding. While there was a crowd, it wasn’t the entire population—just a segment who needed answers, and fast.

Filling her lungs, thinking of what this decision would mean to everyone involved, she joined him. “Let’s go down.”

Darius snatched a kiss then led them all downstairs.

Wading through a sea of concerned staff—administrative and domestic—they reached the enormous front doors. Darius moved out onto the terrace. Leaving the doors open, he took a stand at the top of the wide arc of stairs. Helene stayed inside with Yanni and Galen. The next moment, Tahlia was there, too.

Helene filled her friend in while Tahlia’s eyes grew wider and wider.

She held Helene’s arm. “We don’t need to worry.” Tahlia stopped to swallow deeply, to find her courage. “Darius will make them understand. And the guard…they won’t let anyone get hurt.”

Neither of them dared to mention how the guard in that story—in real life a hundred years ago—had turned against those they were meant to protect.

As the palace gates swung slowly open, the crowd flooded in—mainly working-class men, but some dressed in suits. There were women, too, some with children on their hips.

The guard had formed an equipped arc around the lip of the terrace and stairs. Now Darius raised his hands to quiet the clamor.

“You’ve seen some news bulletins,” he said in a firm, loud voice, “and read some pamphlets. None of what you saw or read is true.”

“She’s not pregnant?” someone called out.

“You’re not marrying her?” called another.

“We want to see the goddess!” a different voice demanded, and the racket spiraled again.

Darius held up his hands a second time. “I have proposed to this woman. And, yes, she is carrying a child. My child.”

At the front of the crowd, an arm shot up, shaking a piece of paper. Accusations flew again. “It says she tricked you.”

“She was on the sacred island.”

“She tried to steal our goddess.”

“She destroyed her—shattered her to bits!”

Darius shouted over the row. “The fertility figurine is here with us, just inside those doors. A different piece was broken last night, a replica. The real goddess has been hidden away for centuries. But now—soon—you’ll be able to see her any time you please.”

The crowd had quieted as they craned to see and hear. Then a skeptical voice spoke out. “Why should we believe you?”

“We don’t want her as our queen!”

Darius stood tall. The air seemed to ripple with the depth of his resolve. “Helene Masters doesn’t have to be anyone’s queen,” he told them. “We can both leave now and never come back.”