The Expectant Princess. Stella Bagwell

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СКАЧАТЬ of fresh tears to burn the backs of her eyes. Determined to do her father proud, she blinked and sniffed and swallowed them down. But the idea that King Michael might really be gone from their lives drained the very strength from her legs and she grabbed for Marcus’s hand almost at the same moment he reached out to steady her.

      “Oh, Marcus,” she said hoarsely. “This has to be a nightmare. Please tell me Father can’t be dead.”

      From the moment Marcus had spotted Dominique entering the cathedral this morning, his insides had gathered into hard knots and remained that way. In the past few days, he’d learned from the king himself that she was home from university to attend this morning’s christening. But he’d deliberately avoided going by her suite of rooms in the family’s palace to say hello.

      Years ago Marcus had made a point to quell her schoolgirl adulation for him and, in doing so, he suspected he’d crushed her young pride. At the time he’d not set out to deliberately hurt or embarrass her. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d always been genuinely fond of Dominique and he’d wanted to send her off to university with a clear mind. Not cluttered with romantic notions for an older man.

      Four years had passed since then, and he figured somewhere in between she’d forgiven him for forcing her to take off her rose-colored glasses where he was concerned. As for himself, the years Dominique had been away had seen him married with high hopes, then divorced with bitter regret.

      Now he wished he had made a point of seeing Dominique before this morning. Maybe then he would have been prepared for the drastic change in her appearance. She’d grown into a woman whose beauty knocked the very breath from his lungs.

      Her tall, slender body now moved with grace and poise. The golden-brown cap of curls he remembered framing her face had grown into long waves that very nearly touched the back of her waist. Today the thick tresses were pulled back from her temples with diamond-studded combs that matched the loops of diamonds dangling from her earlobes. He recalled her eyes being the same pale green he was looking into, only now their open innocence was gone, replaced by a provocative slant and a touch of shadowy mystery that was utterly feminine. A perfectly straight nose led down to an equally perfect set of lips. Plump and moist; the top lip dipped deeply in the middle, the bottom curved to an enticing pout.

      No doubt she had been properly kissed since he’d last seen her, Marcus thought. In fact, for all he knew, she might have already given her heart to some young man.

      The gentle pressure of her fingers tightening around his brought Marcus out of his wandering thoughts—thoughts that were both foolish and improper on his part. It didn’t matter that her cream-colored dress did more than hint at the luscious curves of a woman. To him she could be nothing more than the king’s young daughter. A king who, it appeared, was most likely dead.

      “I’m sorry, Dominique. I can’t give you hope when there seems to be none.”

      Her head dropped, then swung from side to side in disbelief. The sudden urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her shocked Marcus. Although he didn’t know why his feelings should be a surprise to him. Where Dominique was concerned, he’d always harbored a protective streak. Six years ago, when he’d joined the king’s administrative staff, she’d been a shy, gangly fifteen-year-old. Uncertain of her place in the royal family and at the same time hungry for reassurance and affection. His own rough childhood had helped to create an affinity for the young princess. One that obviously hadn’t dissolved, in spite of the past years she’d been away.

      “What about LeAnn’s christening?” she murmured. “Are they still going through with the ceremony?”

      “No,” he answered, his thoughts softening his voice. “The accident has taken precedence now. Your family is making preparations to return to the castle.”

      Her head came up swiftly. “Oh. Then I must get back inside.”

      With her free hand she pressed the kerchief against both cheeks, then snapped the dainty cloth away in the small gold velvet bag hanging from her shoulder.

      Marcus released her hand, then cupped his palm around her bent elbow. As he guided her through a back entry of the cathedral, he wished above anything that she didn’t have to face the sorrow of her father’s accident. He wished it was in his power to shield her now and always from life’s harsh realities.

      But he was just a man. A commoner, despite his lofty position as the king’s high counsel. She deserved and needed more than he could ever give her and he suspected she’d learned that while she’d been away, growing into a woman.

      Three days later Dominique was still struggling to shake the notion that her father’s horrific accident was all just a nightmare. Each morning she expected to wake and join her family in the dining hall for breakfast. Somehow she knew she would find King Michael seated at the head of the long table, a cup of tea in one hand, a newspaper in the other. But each morning she’d discovered the dining hall empty, her mother choosing to breakfast in privacy, while her brother, Nicholas, was already at work, trying to deal with the upheaval their father’s disappearance had caused with the media and the political world.

      This morning Dominique had chosen to breakfast on the balcony off her bedroom. If she were going to eat alone, at least she could do it in total solitude without a bevy of servants hovering over her.

      Being away at university had spoiled her, she supposed. While living on campus and attending classes, she’d not been smothered by a royal entourage to carry out even her smallest bidding. Over time, she’d grown to love the freedom, the feeling that basically she was no different than any other young woman working toward a degree. Even if she was Princess Dominique Stanbury of Edenbourg.

      The slight sound of a footstep on flagstone alerted her that she was no longer alone. Glancing up from a plate of fruit, she saw that Prudence, her lady-in-waiting, had joined her on the balcony.

      Only two years older than herself, Prudence had been with Dominique since their early childhood. When the time had come for Dominique to go to college, Prudence had begged to go along with her princess, but the king and queen had separated the two, believing it would help their daughter develop more independence. Now that Dominique was back, Prudence was delighted and had practically been smothering her with attention.

      At the moment, the young woman with dark brown hair twisted into an elaborate coil at the back of her head gave her princess a rueful smile. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Dominique. But someone has asked to see you. Are you feeling up to a visitor this morning?”

      “Who is it, Pru?”

      The other woman’s smile deepened. “Marcus Kent. I thought you might not want me to send him away.”

      Other than a faint lift of her eyebrows, Dominique made no reply to her lady’s subtle hint. Instead, she glanced down at her blue velour robe. She wasn’t properly dressed, but she was decently covered. And Marcus might have received some sort of news about her father that he wanted to deliver personally.

      “I’ll see him here on the balcony. Oh, and Pru,” she added as her personal attendant turned to hurry away. “Please send a servant up with a pot of fresh decaffeinated coffee and a thermos of cold fruit juice. Mr. Kent might want refreshments.”

      “Of course,” she said with a wide smile. “I’ll be in the study if you need me for anything else.”

      Prudence disappeared back into the palace and Dominique quickly finger-combed her loose hair. Thankfully, she had taken the time to thoroughly brush the long strands before breakfast. СКАЧАТЬ