Kathryn Jensen - I Married A Prince

Jacob.

Why had he come back?

He had acted surprised when Cray started crying in his bedroom. Had that reaction been an honest one? Or had he known all along that she had given birth to his child?

An icy shiver curled through her. Of course, a man like Jacob had all sorts of ways of keeping track of people. What if he’d been informed of Cray’s existence many months ago? What if he was only now getting around to coming to Connecticut to claim his son?

The possibility terrified her.

But there was something wrong with that reasoning, she told herself. If having a son meant anything to him, why had he waited so long? Why hadn’t he shown up while she’d been pregnant? During those trying emotional months, she’d been at her weakest. She’d been so very afraid she wouldn’t know how to take care of a child, and wouldn’t be capable of supporting herself and Cray on her meager pay. If Jacob had known she was about to have his baby, why hadn’t he shown up then?

Maybe he was up to something far worse than she’d imagined. He wanted something from her, or he wouldn’t have come back. Until she knew exactly what that was, she wouldn’t be able to protect herself or her son from him.

After draping a light blanket over Cray and touching his fuzzy little head one last time, Allison slowly made her way out to the kitchen at the back of the house. She brewed herself a cup of hot tea and took it into the living room. There, on the floor, sat the large dark mauve box Jacob had brought earlier.

Allison sat on the couch, staring speculatively at the unmarked package while she sipped her tea. I don’t care what’s in there, she thought. It’s going back.

But how? she asked herself. She could pay someone to take the thing back to him on his stupid boat. But why should she go to the expense when money was already tight? What she should do was shove the unopened box in the trash. That would show him!

But the thrifty New Englander in Allison wouldn’t allow her to throw away a perfectly good...perfectly good what? What would she be throwing away?

She glared at the box, imagining something evil and threatening lurking inside the innocent-looking but interestingly colored cardboard. Pandora’s box—the classic tease. Why was he doing this to her? Had he intentionally left the thing to torment her, knowing she couldn’t stop herself from opening it?

Acting on impulse, Allison set her mug on the coffee table and stood up. She approached the box warily, from the side, as if afraid something alive might leap out of it at any moment, baring its fangs at her. Reaching down, she slipped her fingers inside one flap and tore the box open.

Three

Her hands trembling, Allison bent back the four cardboard flaps, then parted layer after layer of distinctive rose-and-gold tissue paper. She recognized the color and pattern of the wrapping materials. They had come from a posh Manhattan clothier. She and Diane had once dared each other to walk through the elegant etched-glass doors, and Diane had treated her to a silk scarf for her birthday that cost twice as much as anything in Allison’s closet.

Breathlessly, she reached beneath the crackling sheets of tissue and touched something soft, silky, fluid. She lifted the fabric. Suspended from her fingertips was a pale peacock blue dress of delicate tucks and flounces. It was the most beautiful garment she’d ever seen.

She was furious.

“You son of a—” She stopped herself, remembering Cray, who was within hearing range.

But this dress!

It was both a bribe and a slap in the face. Apparently, Jacob had intended for her to wear his gift to his party. He thought that by giving her something expensive he could persuade her to do whatever he wanted, just as he’d bribed, seduced and sweet-talked countless other women into bed. To him, it was a reflex. Like snapping his fingers to summon a waiter. Come here. Obey me!

But this was far, far worse, because in a way he was also saying he doubted she’d have anything decent to wear among polite company. Or—she wouldn’t have the sense to dress appropriately for one of his high-society soirees.

Opening her fingers, she let the delicate silk layers drift through them and back into the box. “I’ll show you, Your Royal High and Mightiness,” she hissed.

Jacob stood in the bow of the Queen Elise, a chilled martini in one hand, a cigar in his other, observing another load of guests as they stepped excitedly from the launch onto his yacht. The ship was already brimming with smartly heeled party goers. Some he recognized from his visit to the UN on behalf of his father. Others were local politicians, journalists and CEOs of businesses interested in opening offices in Elbia. One man was a playwright who currently boasted two hit musicals and a comedy on Broadway. They drank freely of his champagne and nibbled politely from trays of hors d’oeuvres circulated by servers from the sole caterer in Nanticoke.

Not one among the beaming faces that gushed with greetings for him and wished good health for his father, the king, was Alli’s. He didn’t really expect her to show, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking for her.

Over an hour after the party started, the launch appeared yet again. This time it was empty except for its young skipper, in his nautical whites, and a single passenger. Jacob lost interest in the guest’s identity once he’d determined the newcomer wasn’t wearing the vibrant blue dress he’d bought Alli for the occasion. The launch slowly circled the yacht as Jacob conversed with an eager banker. He was aware of the motor cutting, idling, but paid little attention otherwise.

Mingling with the salt spray, a faint whiff of a familiar perfume caught his attention. He straightened by inches to look more closely at the petite figure climbing the steps into the stern of the Queen Elise.

The young woman’s hair glittered like spun gold in the late afternoon sunlight. It was brushed out long and smooth, down her back and away from her face. The strands blew delicately in the sea breeze. Piercing her tiny pink earlobes were simple gold knots and clinging interestingly to her body was a silky pantsuit that might have doubled as lounging pajamas. The effect was a mysterious blend of casual elegance.

Intriguingly, the color of her garment so nearly matched her skin, when he observed her from a particular angle and with the setting sun backlighting her—she almost looked as if she was without any clothing at all. It was impossible from a distance to tell where cloth ended and skin began. Only when the air moved around her as she stepped gracefully onto the deck, could he see the outline of sheer sleeves that draped gracefully along her arms and floated on the ocean’s breath.

“Welcome aboard!” he called out to her through the crowd of guests, turning away from the banker. He noticed she was carrying a small canvas bag. An overnight satchel? He felt a distinct surge of hope.

Allison shaded her eyes and observed him as he approached her, a small smile playing over her lips.

“You look stunning,” he said, aware that most of his guests were watching him and the late arrival very closely.

“Thank you,” she said demurely.

“Didn’t the dress I bought you fit?”

“I’m not in the habit of accepting gifts from strangers,” she said quickly.

It stung. A stranger. Was that how she thought of him? They’d slept in each other’s arms, explored each other’s bodies intimately. Yet, in honesty, he’d done as much with other women and he thought of them as no more than strangers. Some, he couldn’t even recall their names...Why did it hurt that she felt the same about him?

“Maybe we can remedy that situation,” he said, flashing her the dazzling but mechanical smile that had begun so many successful seductions. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “Most of my guests will be leaving by dark.”