The Prince's Wedding Page 10

  For that matter, she thought as she sank into a luxurious chair he directed her to, Lucas hadn't ever remarked on the condition of her home. He'd never said anything about the lack of amenities, even though he was obviously used to the absolute best. She should give him credit for that, she supposed. At least he'd been tactful enough not to mention whatever he thought about it.

  The amenities weren't the only difference, she soon realized. In addition to Eliya and Mr. Gallini, there was the man who'd been at the bottom of the steps, and a woman in a variation of the same uniform, who were clearly the private version of flight attendants. And they fluttered around Lucas as if he were.... As if he were royalty, she finished in silent chagrin.

  But what truly flustered her was the fact that they catered to her in the same way. It seemed every five minutes one or the other of them approached her offering food, drink, a blanket and pillow, or to put on a movie out of the amazingly huge collection on board, practically begging to be "of service" as they put it.

  But it wasn't until Lucas finally gave in to temptation and made his way forward to the cockpit that she discovered the full reason behind their actions.

  "Please," she said to the man when he approached her yet again, this time with an offer of wine, "I don't need anything, I'm perfectly comfortable. Relax. You must need a break by now."

  "It is no hardship to serve our future queen," he said fervently.

  Jessie blinked. "What?"

  "It is an honor, truly," chimed the woman in uniform. "All Montebello awaits your arrival. And of course, your wedding. It will be ajoyous occasion."

  Jessie stared at them both. Did the entire world know about her? How? And did they all assume she was going to not only marry Lucas but be delighted to do so, no questions asked?

  She was tempted to clarify matters for them, to tell them in no uncertain terms she would not even be living in their precious Montebello, let alone be queen, but realized it would likely be a futile effort. They would never understand, even if they did believe her, which she doubted. Who wouldn't want to marry their precious prince? Didn't little girls all over the world dream of such a thing?

  Not this little girl, she thought. Her dream had always been of a man who wanted to live the life she loved, who would be content with its simplicity and stick with her through the frequent hard times, just for the love of it. A man like Joe. Not a prince used to living in the proverbial lap of luxury. Like this plane.

  She did eventually get up and make her way to the bathroom. It was as ridiculously luxurious as the rest of the craft, and so far from the standard airplane lavatory that she could barely stop herself from laughing out loud.

  When she returned, Lucas was back from the cockpit, which surprised her—she'd figured he would be there for hours. Instead, after he took a peek at Luke in the specially designed crib that was bolted to the aircraft floor—a modification, she was sure, to the plane's design, and one she couldn't deny made her more comfortable flying with the baby—Lucas took the seat next to hers and strapped himself in.

  She sensed a tension in him she hadn't noticed before, and unease filled her. They were on a very small plane, after all, in a very big sky.

  "Is there a problem?"

  He gave her a sideways look, and her heart jolted into her throat, because the answer was obviously yes. Instinctively she looked out the window, wondering if they had an engine on fire or something.

  "No, no, it's nothing like that," he said quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

  Jessie let out a sigh of relief. "What, then?"

  "They got a news report up front."

  Her mouth tightened. Was this the answer to what she'd been wondering, how everyone from Montebello apparently knew about her? Had he said something to reporters? Had he arrogantly assumed she couldn't possibly say no and announced it as a done deal?

  "And?" she said, not trusting herself to say anything more. If he had—

  "Gerald was committed to a state hospital. No jail time."

  It took her a moment to make the switch to the unexpected subject. "What?"

  "I had them call my friend in the FBI for details. He was deemed criminally insane and committed."

  "Oh."

  He looked at her for a long moment. "You don't seem upset that he got off so easily."

  "I'm not. Not really. I can't quite hate him."

  "After what he put you through?"

  She shrugged. "It was horrible, but.. .he didn't kill me, even when he was ordered to. I sort of owe him for that, even if his reasons were crazy."

  Lucas looked thoughtful for a moment. "I guess I was so angry at him I never thought of it that way." He hesitated, then said, "There's word on...Ursula and Gretchen, too."

  She supposed he'd hesitated about calling Ursula her sister. As if she no longer deserved the title. Jessie smothered the pang that always arose when she thought of the girl she'd once adored and looked up to, who had turned into a bitter, vicious woman she didn't even know anymore. She wondered if she would ever reach any equanimity about it, if she would ever resolve her horribly confused feelings about Ursula.

  "What?" she finally asked, when she was sure her voice would be steady.

  "They were denied bail. Apparently the judge thought anybody who would try to murder her own sister in order to steal her baby, on top of murdering a former lover, or anyone who'd help her with full knowledge, like Gretchen, is a flight risk. They'll be awaiting trial in jail."

  She waited to feel something, a pang, a qualm, anything, at the thought of her sister in jail. But nothing came. And somehow that made her feel worse.

  "Do you want to see her? Speak to her?" Lucas asked.

  "I.. .feel like I should want to. But I don't." She stared at her hands. "I think I'm afraid I'm hoping there was some other reason besides pure greed, bitterness and viciousness for what she did."

  "There isn't."

  "I think I know that, deep down. But having to face it..." She shook her head. "Maybe someday. But not now."

  "She's not worth your worry or your concern, Jessie," Lucas said quietly. "I know it must be hard, she is your sister, but after what she did, she doesn't deserve even a passing thought."

  "I just feel badly for what was," she said. "We were close, once."

  "Which makes what she did even more reprehensible."

  "I know. But it's still hard."

  He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "It's hard because you're a good, decent person, and you don't easily write anyone off."

  She wondered if there was a message for her from him in those words, but when she looked up at him, she saw only genuine concern. That warmed her, and the knot inside her loosened a little.

  She didn't pull her hand from his, and eventually, lulled by the distant hum of the engines and the comfort of the luxurious seat, she dozed. And dreamed. Dreamed of purple robes and a glittering crown, lifted from a velvet pillow and placed on her head.

  It didn't fit.

  And after a while, it slid down and ended up a heavy, choking weight around her neck.

  Chapter 10

  Lucas watched her, glad of the chance to simply look. When she murmured in her sleep, an undertone of distress noticeable even though the words were unintelligible, he wondered if he should wake her. But then it subsided, so he let her sleep.

  She would need even this restless sleep—flying this far into tomorrow, jet lag was practically unavoidable. And he was under no illusions about the strain she would be under once they arrived and the inevitable chaos surrounded her. He would try to protect her as much as he could, but he could only do so much. Too many people had learned their story, too many people already knew her face, and knew their prince had gone to America to find the woman who had borne him—and them—a royal heir in line to the Montebellan throne.

  He was used to his goldfish-bowl life—not that he liked it—but Jessie was not. And in her way, she was a very private person. Many Americans
, especially those from the West, were, when compared to the open gregariousness that was typical of Montebellans.

  Perhaps it was the more tropical climate there than, say, Colorado. Montebellans never had to hole up alone while a blizzard blew through. The weather was always good for socializing, for being outside, soaking up the sun and balmy breezes.

  He sat musing for a while, his gaze occasionally shifting from Jessie to the video screen to his left, which he'd keyed in to show the cockpit instruments, a special feature that he'd requested and Redstone Aviation had had designed just for him. The head of the company, Josh Red-stone, being a pilot himself, had understood perfectly what he'd wanted. And why. In fact, the man had wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself, for his own plane.

  And periodically Lucas rose and walked over to look down at his baby son. He couldn't describe the emotions that filled him, he only knew he'd never felt anything like them before. He'd known love at first sight existed, his parents proved that, but he'd never expected it to happen to him. Yet the moment he'd looked into Luke's wide, innocent eyes, he'd fallen and fallen hard. That at the time he'd thought Jessie dead, and baby Luke the last precious bit of her on this earth, had only made the feeling more powerful.

  Looking at that child was like staring into the future, and he felt the weight of it as never before. Not even standing in the palace picture gallery that housed paintings of every ancestor of his for generations could inspire this kind of feeling in him.

  Jessie's words echoed in his mind. Luke should be able to choose his own future. Every child should have that right.

  He knew he was right, knew that Luke had to be raised as he had been, knowing his future was set, that the throne of Montebello was his destiny. It would take that long, a lifetime, to train him properly for the job. It wasn't something you could learn in a short time, it had to be ingrained, until it was instinctive, until you reacted without thinking in the way that was best for your position and your country.

  Her impassioned plea hadn't fallen on deaf ears. He understood her feelings, completely. But she didn't realize that when you were raised with the knowledge of what you would become, when you learned at an early age that it was unchangeable, you adjusted. He had. Not that he'd ever had a burning desire to do otherwise. His parents had indulged his need to experiment with any field he found of interest, but at the core he'd always known it was just that, experimentation, because his course lay elsewhere.

  He wondered, had he not grown up with his father's sterling example, if he might have been more restless, felt more constrained by his lack of choices about his future. But King Marcus had always found such joy in leading his people wisely that Lucas had grown up assuming he would find the same fulfillment when it was his turn to rule. And he had, in the duties he'd already assumed as the invested crown prince. So surely Luke would, too, as long as he was brought up in the same tradition.

  But Jessie's words lingered in his mind, provoking the tiniest of doubts. And when Luke opened his eyes, so much like his own, looked up at him and smiled Jessie's smile, he suddenly understood her need to make sure the boy had everything his way in life. He didn't ever want to look in that little face and see pain or disappointment.

  He touched the baby's soft, silken cheek, which reminded him of Jessie's soft, silken skin. He quashed his reaction once more, as he'd been doing frequently of late, knowing he didn't dare push her, despite that incredible night at her lookout.

  After a few minutes Luke went back to sleep, and Lucas began to pace the length of the main cabin, trying to walk off his restlessness. Finally he sensed the plane beginning to descend in the moment before the pilot announced it to him over the intercom. They would be on the ground only for refueling, not long enough to deplane. Someday, he thought, he was going to test the promised range of this beauty and try that flight without refueling.

  Then Luke made a tiny, cooing sound, drawing his father's gaze.

  On second thought, Lucas amended silently, maybe I won 'tpush that envelope.

  The old Lucas would have done it. The reckless, sometimes feckless Lucas. The Playboy Prince, he thought ruefully. Now that would be a great way to convince Jessie you're not that man anymore—pull a fool stunt like that. You walked away from one plane crash, just how golden do you think you are?

  His ears popped in adjustment to the loss of altitude. In that moment Jessie stirred, then opened her eyes. For an instant she just looked at him, then a soft, sleepy smile curved her mouth and his heart seemed to skip a beat and then rush to catch up.

  Then she seemed to realize what had awakened her. She sat up straight and looked toward the window. Then she glanced at her watch. He winced inwardly at the troubled expression that changed her face.

  "We're not there yet," he told her. "We're just stopping for refueling."

  "Oh."

  The troubled expression eased, and he felt that pang again, that she would be dreading so much what he was so anxious for. He told himself that it was only because she hadn't seen his home yet, but deep down he wondered if he had lost this battle before it had really begun.

  * * *

  The first thing that struck Jessie as she steeled herself and stepped out onto the gangway was the brilliance of the sun. The next was the warmth. Heat, she mentally corrected. For a body used to and already preparing for a Colorado winter, this wasn't just balmy, it was downright hot. If she had to guess, it was at least seventy degrees out, although she admitted she might not be the best judge, having just come from fifty-eight-degree Colorado.

  Lucas had told her Montebello was ten hours ahead of Colorado time, so she guessed that coupled with the long flying time, it was the next day here. It felt odd to have missed an entire day, but she didn't have long to dwell on it. Not when she saw the crowd of people standing near the bottom of the gangway, next to a limousine even longer than the one Lucas had hired in Colorado, this one with darkly tinted windows and two small black, white and gold flags on the front fenders.

  There was a much larger crowd on the other side of a chain-link fence several yards away. In that group larger Montebellan flags were prominent, waving in the sun-warmed air. She heard calls and shouts, but couldn't tell what was being said. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but they sounded friendly, even warm, which was reassuring.

  At the foot of the gangway was, she saw with rueful surprise, a red carpet. An honest-to-god red carpet. And she had a feeling this was going to be just the first of many such moments, when her American sensibilities collided with royal ceremony. And the first of many incidents that would pound home to her just how impossible this all was.

  After that moment everything seemed to blur. Her nap on the plane hadn't made up for the sleepless night before, and she felt suddenly exhausted. And buffeted by the barrage of greetings that began the moment Lucas, carrying the baby, urged her to start down the gangway steps.

  She concentrated on every step as if she expected it to slide out from under her feet. The calls from the crowd were clearer now, and she realized they were calling Lucas's name. And Luke's. She even thought she heard her own name once or twice, and she was positive she heard one woman call out "Marry me, instead!"

  Now there's a plan, she thought wearily. And then quickly took it back when the thought of him doing just that, marrying some other woman, stabbed her more deeply than she ever would have expected.

  When they got to the bottom, she realized the rear door of the limo had been opened by a man in the same uniform as the flight attendants on Lucas's jet. An imposing man with a mane of white hair and a neatly trimmed beard got out, turned, bent, and held out an arm. A lovely woman with golden hair, barely touched with silver, and clear blue eyes took the proffered arm and stepped out of the long, low car with exquisite grace. And finally Jessie realized who they must be. Lucas's parents. They were, she thought, regal. It was ironic, but it was the only word that truly fit.

  And belatedly she realized she was in the presence of a rea
l, genuine king and queen. And she didn't have the slightest idea what to do. Why hadn't Lucas told her? Was she supposed to bow, or curtsy or something? Or as an American, was that somehow wrong?

  As it worked out, she had to do neither. King Marcus took her hand, smiled in a way that put Jessie in mind of his son, and said quietly, "My son understated your beauty."

  Jessie blushed, but before she could say a word the queen murmured a soft, "Welcome to Montebello, dear," and gestured her into the limo.

  "We should go," Lucas said when she hesitated. "So the airport can clear the crowd."

  She acceded to his request. Once they were inside the thankfully cooler vehicle, he handed her Luke and took up a seat beside her. He'd indicated what seat she should take, which meant they were facing forward, leaving the back-facing seat for his parents. She wondered about that, since they'd gotten out of the seat she was now in, but guessed they wanted her to have the best view of their precious Montebello.

  She supposed she should be flattered, but she was too nervous to feel anything positive just now.

  She watched the crowd as the older couple were getting in, then leaned over and asked Lucas quietly, "Is it like this whenever you go somewhere?"

  "Like what? Oh, you mean the crowd. No. I mean, only lately. Since I got back. Before, the only people I had to dodge were the media. Looking for a photo of my latest escapade," he finished in such a wry tone she couldn't help but smile.

  The moment the king and queen were seated, the man holding the limo door closed it and quickly walked around to get in the passenger-side front seat. Almost immediately the vehicle began to roll.

  Jessie found herself staring down at the baby, this time not only because she loved to look at him, but because she was too nervous to look at anyone else. But with her peripheral vision she saw the king grasp his son's hand in a firm handshake in the same instant the queen reached out and laid a hand on Lucas's knee.

  "I'm fine," Lucas said softly, his tone gently reassuring. "It's all right."

  She stole a peek then at the stately couple opposite her. What she saw in their faces registered sharply—they adored their son. She could see echoes of the grief they must have felt when they had thought him dead etched into their faces, and in the way they clung to him now, as if they had feared he would once more not return to them after a flight.