The Prince's Wedding Read online

  When she spoke at last, she started with the most important one. "No one," she said firmly, "is taking my baby from me again."

  "No," Lucas agreed.

  She blinked, feeling as if he'd already taken the wind out of sails she'd only now run up the mast. But she forged onward.

  "Besides, this whole thing of your role in life being chosen for you at birth—even before birth!—that's... it's...well, it's...."

  "Un-American?" Lucas suggested.

  "Unfair," she countered. "How can you look at that baby and tell him he has no choice?"

  Lucas winced, and she knew she'd hit a nerve. But he didn't say anything, so she went on.

  "I'll admit Americans have a hard time with the concept of hereditary leadership in general. We were built on an opposing principal, after all."

  "Do you think I haven't thought that myself? That I, and all the Sebastianis haven't questioned the concept? Believe me, we have. But we also know no one has the best interests of our country at heart more than we do."

  "Fine. Good for you, and good for Montebello. But Luke is an American by birth."

  "And he's Montebellan by blood," Lucas said. "He's a citizen, simply because he's my son."

  She wasn't budging Lucas, she could see that. But she wasn't going to give in. Too much was at stake here.

  "He can visit, then. But he's growing up here, in America, on this ranch, where he can be free to decide his own path."

  "He isn't free. He's in line for the throne of Montebello. That can't be changed."

  Something about the implacability in his voice set her off. "Because he's unfortunate enough to be your son?"

  Lucas drew back, and she knew she'd drawn blood that time. She told herself she couldn't care, that her son's very life was at stake, as much now as it had been when he'd been taken from her at birth.

  She had to fight for him. Even if she had to fight his father.

  * * *

  It had reached the point where he dreaded each morning. For now, not only did he spend long nights aching for the woman across the hall, he spent his days fighting with her. Fighting over the tiny child they had created out of love, who had somehow become the crux of the entire dispute.

  This morning, up with the sun, he walked reluctantly into the kitchen, knowing Jessie was probably already there with Luke, because both her bed and the crib were empty. He found her giving him his bottle in the big rocker beside the woodstove in the corner of the homey kitchen. It was a picture that made his heart ache with a sensation he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before, a sort of longing that made him feel hollow inside.

  Her hair was loose this morning, falling forward like a blond veil over her and the baby. He'd almost forgotten just how long and lovely it was. He stood, simply watching them, until that ache in his chest became a pressure almost too great to bear.

  Jessie looked up then, saw him and went still. He braced himself for the adversarial expression he'd almost grown to expect to come over her face. But instead, after looking at him for a moment, she smiled. A soft, warm, inviting smile that made him think that at least something of what he'd been feeling must have been showing in his face, despite his practiced facade.

  Encouraged, he walked toward them. He crouched beside the chair, and looked from her face to the face of his firstborn child, and the ache inside eased a little.

  "He's so beautiful," he said softly. "Sometimes Ijust stare at him in awe."

  "So do I," she confessed.

  They lapsed into silence, watching their son as he fed. He wondered if they were both afraid to speak, afraid to start the battle again. He felt the undercurrent of tension that marred what should have been a perfect moment, and he knew until it was resolved they would have no real peace. Still he waited, not wanting to spoil this precious time with them both.

  "He's so precious. Fragile yet strong. I spend hours looking at him, wishing I could guarantee he'll never be hurt, never be disappointed, never be treated unfairly."

  "I understand," Lucas said, meaning it. He had more than once looked at his son and thought that he would kill anyone who tried to harm him. He'd wanted to kill Ursula. If Gerald hadn't so clearly been simpleminded, he'd have wanted to kill him, too.

  Jessie looked up at him. "Then how can you possibly want him to live the life you're talking about? You should want your son to have the choices you never had."

  So there it was, out in the open, simmering between them again. And the worst part was that Lucas had no argument against what she'd said, because he knew she was right. He stood up, jamming his hands into his pockets.

  "I wish it could be that way," he said. Her expression changed slightly, as if she'd heard the genuine longing in his voice. "I really do understand how you feel, Jessie."

  "But?"

  "But it wasn't for me, and can't be for Luke, either. Montebello comes first. His life and path are set, just as mine were."

  "If you never had any choice, you should understand why that's so wrong."

  "I never felt like I was deprived. It was just something I knew, from childhood. Like having blue eyes."

  "You didn't have anything to say about the color of your eyes. That really is a matter of no choice. What you do with your life shouldn't be."

  "I never felt I was missing anything."

  "What if you'd wanted desperately to be a...a lawyer?

  Or an airline pilot? Or—" she gestured toward the window "—a rancher?"

  He smiled at her. "Actually, I am. In a way. I studied a lot of law in college, and although I didn't go for the degree, I can hold my own with most lawyers. I am a pilot, and a better one than my recent record might indicate. And I'm also a rancher. We raise purebred Arabians on our ranch near the palace."

  She was staring at him, looking a little stunned. He wondered if she hadn't realized this aspect of his life, this benefit of his family's wealth and position. Whatever he wanted to do in life, he was pretty much free to do as long as it didn't conflict with the well-being of his people.

  "Luke will have those same advantages," he pointed out. "Whatever he wants to do, he'll have the resources."

  Jessie went very still. "I know you can give him more than I ever could. But material things aren't that important to me, and I don't want my son growing up thinking they are."

  Lucas pulled a chair out from the table and straddled it backward, crossing his arms over the back before he said earnestly, "I know that, Jessie. I'm not trying to buy him. Believe me, he'll work hard for every privilege."

  "He'sjust a baby. Let him enjoy his life. When he's old enough, he can decide what he wants."

  "That will be too late. He has so much to learn, about our history, the needs of our country. He'll have to learn about business to address the economics, world affairs to understand our place in that world. He'll have to know how to deal with ambassadors, prime ministers and presidents. And the even more intricate protocol of dealing with other royal houses. He'll have to learn how to speak in public, for at all times he'll speak for Montebello. It must be ingrained, so deeply he never misspeaks. He'll have to—"

  "What if he just wants to live his life?" Jessie burst out. "I don't want my son fettered and duty-bound, with no life of his own!"

  "It's a good life," Lucas protested, sitting up straighter on the chair. "Yes, there's duty, and a great deal of responsibility, but that's not all. He'll have the world to draw on for whatever interests him. He can play as hard as he works."

  "Another Playboy Prince? No, thank you."

  Lucas winced. "I'm not proud of that nickname, or the reputation that hung it on me. All I can say is I know better now. I know what's really important, and it's not how I was living."

  "Then how can you ask me to send my child into that life?"

  "Because there is no other option. But I promise you he's going to learn that nothing is more important than family and caring about people. He's going to learn that he's entitled to have fun, but not at the cost of worrying those
who love him. He's going to learn that his rank is a privilege, not a right. You'll have to help me teach him all that, Jessie."

  Her head came up, and he saw the fire of determination glowing in her eyes once more. "I know nothing about that kind of thing. I can teach him about life here, about the beauty of a mountain sunrise, the joy of a newborn foal, the reality of a world where you get the work done or pay the price, the satisfaction of a job well done and the pure peace of a simple life in one of the best places on earth. Those are the values I want my son to treasure."

  "They're good values," Lucas agreed. "But not the only ones that are worthwhile. And you can learn, you know you can. You're smart, you're quick, it will come easy, once you get started. There are many obligations, and the social etiquette will probably drive you crazy. But there's a certain comfort in following traditions that are a century old."

  "Ranching is an older tradition than that. I'm happy with it, thank you."

  She was closing off, he could sense it. He got up and paced the kitchen as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He had to be fair about this; he had to convince her honestly, not trick her or force her in any way. She'd been through too much already. With an effort, he kept his voice business-like and unemotional.

  "The next queen of Montebello will have a tough act to follow. My mother is incredible, and the people adore her. She is tireless in her pursuit of anything she feels will benefit them. She's charmed aristocrats and politicians the world over, but she exerts that same charm for the average person on the street. And they know it. They know they are as important to her as any world leader. My father may be the head of Montebello, but my mother is the heart."

  "She sounds extraordinary," Jessie said, sounding a bit calmer now.

  "She is. And another like her is what Montebello will need, when the time comes."

  "Exactly," she agreed, as if he'djust proved her point. "A long time from now, I would hope," she added. "Your mother is still young."

  "Yes. And that's for the best. There's plenty of time to learn what's needed to continue in her tradition."

  "I'm not sure that can be learned," she said.

  "It can. She did. She wasn't raised a royal, after all." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I know what I'm asking you to sacrifice, Jessie. And I don't do it lightly. I know this is a huge step, because it's a huge job. Your place would be unlike my sisters, for example, and not just because they were born to it and you weren't."

  Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. He tried to explain it more clearly.

  "My sisters are princesses, they aren't looking at ascending to the throne."

  "You mean they can't?" she asked, her voice suddenly sharp. "Because they're female?"

  Oops, he thought. Bad move.

  "My father's working on that," he promised. "But it's going to take some time." He hurried on, not wanting to get hung up on the issue of a woman's rights in the succession. "What I mean is, that succeeding my mother isn't going to be easy. I know that. And it will be harder for someone who hasn't grown up in that world, who hasn't had the traditions drummed into them since birth. But you can do it. I know you can."

  Suddenly the crease in her forehead vanished, as her eyebrows shot upward, "/can do it?"

  "Of course you can. As I said, you're smart, you're quick. And you have a good heart. It won't be hard for you to come to love my people, just as my mother did."

  She was staring at him, so incredulously that he stopped the flow of words that he knew had begun to sound like a desperate sales pitch. It was a moment before she spoke, and when she did her voice was tight, each word enunciated carefully and precisely.

  "Somewhere in that job description you just presented me, was there the suggestion that this paragon who's going to succeed your mother is.. .me?"

  Lucas's brows lowered in puzzlement. "Who else?"

  Luke held tight in her arms, Jessie got to her feet, still staring at him. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't that require a marriage?"

  He blinked. "Well, of course."

  " That was your idea of a marriage proposal?"

  As Lucas looked at her, saw her slender body quiver as she clutched the baby to her, he knew he'd made the biggest mistake yet.

  Chapter 7

  Jessie knew she would have said yes to Joe in an instant, never mind that he had had few prospects and no idea who he really was or where he'd come from. None of that would have mattered beside what she felt for him. She knew what really counted.

  But this formal, frightening man, who spoke of nothing but duty and responsibility, she didn't know at all.

  Without another word, she quickly retreated from the kitchen, deciding abruptly that it was time to take Luke upstairs for his bath. Lucas, with more perception than she wanted to credit him with at the moment, stayed silent and remained where he was.

  When Eliya appeared to lay out towels and clean clothes for the baby, Jessie seized the opportunity to speak to the quiet, unobtrusive woman.

  "Tell me, Eliya. Are you from Montebello?"

  "I was born there," the woman said. "I lived in England for a short while, but I was terribly homesick. I will not live anywhere else again."

  "Is it so wonderful, then?"

  The woman's eyes lit up. "It is the most beautiful place on earth. You will see, as soon as you get there, you will think so, too."

  Jessie eyed the woman warily. "What makes you think I'm going there?"

  The woman's eyes widened. "But of course you will. Prince Lucas wishes it."

  She couldn't have said anything more likely to make Jessie angry. "And Prince Lucas," she drawled, her voice dripping sarcasm now, "always gets what he wants?"

  The woman's forehead creased deeply, as if she were trying to figure out what she had said that could possibly have irritated anyone. "Perhaps not always, but any woman would consider herself most lucky to become his wife, and someday queen of Montebello."

  "Not any woman," Jessie said grimly. "Not this woman."

  "But you are Prince Luke's mother. Of course you will wed him. Prince Luke must have his mother with him. Besides.. .what woman would not want to be a princess?"

  "One who's perfectly happy where she is."

  Eliya frowned. "But surely you would not turn down Prince Lucas. You would one day be queen. It is such an honor."

  It just wasn't love, Jessie thought. "Is it?" she asked. "It sounds to me like a life full of duty and etiquette and not much else."

  "But of course it is an honor. Although you are right, the royal family does take its obligations very seriously," Eliya agreed.

  There are many obligations....

  Was proposing to her—in that cold, emotionless way—simply another obligation? Had he come to her only because she was the mother of his child? Or only because she was the mother of the heir to the throne? It certainly wasn't because he needed her to take care of Luke. He could afford a herd of nannies as efficient as the competent Eliya.

  Or worse yet, had he come to her under orders, perhaps from his father the king, to bring his heir home to Montebello no matter what it took?

  She shivered, and rubbed her arms. She tried to distract herself with more questions.

  "Are you married, Eliya?"

  "I was. My husband died some years ago."

  "I'm sorry."

  "He had been ill for some time. It was sad, and I miss him still, but he was ready to go." She gave Jessie a sideways look. "I would have been in a very bad way had it not been for King Marcus. My husband was in his service, and when he died, the king made certain I was taken care of. And when Prince Luke was brought to us, he did me the great honor of entrusting his grandson's care to me."

  Jessie ignored the rather obvious attempt to sway her. "Did you love your husband?"

  "Yes. Very much."

  "It wasn't a marriage of.. .duty?"

  To Jessie's surprise, the woman blushed. Her dark eyes sparkled as she answered, "Oh, no. It was a marriage of passi
on. As yours will be."

  It was Jessie's turn to blush. She opened her mouth to deny the woman's statement, but realized the very presence of Luke would make her words suspect.

  But while there might be traces left of that passion that had sparked between her and Joe, there had certainly been no love in that business-like presentation that Prince Lucas Sebastiani had apparently intended as a marriage proposal. It had been as juiceless as granite.

  It wasn't until later, when she put the baby down for a nap, that it struck her.

  She'd been dwelling entirely on what was to her an impossible dilemma—how could she say yes to such a dry, heartless proposal? It was worse than no proposal at all. She was a simple Colorado rancher, and the entire idea of a royal life scared her to death. A royal life without love would be the proverbial fate worse than death.

  And then she realized that the question wasn't just how could she possibly accept a proposal tendered as dryly as a job offer. There was more to it than that. Much more. She wasn't sure she could accept even if the offer had come with a passionate declaration of undying love. Because even if it had come that way, it didn't change her fear of the whole idea. Life in a fishbowl, always under observation, always having to be mindful of every action, every word, because it might reflect upon king and country.

  Not to mention that the idea of living under a monarchy rankled. Britain, where the monarch was mostly ceremonial, was one thing; a king who actually ruled by right of hereditary succession was something else. Even though it appeared King Marcus was devoted to his people, it was still utterly foreign to her American psyche.

  Then again, there had been some real prizes elected to the highest office in the United States, she thought wryly, so who was to say the odds of getting a good one might not be about the same?

  With a sigh, she pulled a lightweight blanket up over her son's tiny form, then tucked it around him carefully. And for a long time she stood looking down at him, soaking in the pleasure of simply having him, while at the same time trying to envision this tiny little boy as, someday, the man who would be king. She couldn't do it.