Ruling Passions. Laura Wright
His hands balled into fists under his crossed arms. Control had to return, must return.
“Unlike my brother and sister,” Alex began with a frown. “There is no…romance here, father.”
The king gave his regal wolfhound, Glinda, a pat on the head, then leaned back in his favorite armchair and took a swallow of brandy. “I should hope not. This would be a very unwise time to go running around with—”
“Some American, Your Highness?” Maxim’s wife, Fran, said on a chuckle.
Alex watched as the king tried to jolt his pregnant and very American daughter-in-law with a withering look, but it came out as a lopsided grin instead. And when the pretty veterinarian returned the smile and patted him on the knee, the old man actually blushed.
The sight of his father turning from staunch dictator to blushing teddy bear stunned Alex. He’d never seen that side of his father. Not since he’d returned home, at any rate. It didn’t take a masters in psychology to deduce that this “American” had done the softening up.
Maxim turned to Alex, grinned. “So, she turned up on the beach, did she?”
Alex nodded succinctly. He wasn’t elaborating. The particulars of his encounter with Sophia on the beach didn’t need to be shared. As it was, the truth wouldn’t stop playing over and over in his mind; visions were more than enough. “Her boat needs extensive repairs.”
“And you volunteered to put her up until it’s fixed?” Cathy’s husband, Dan, asked with a grin to match Maxim’s. The new head of palace security was not only a former U.S. Marshal, but far too inquisitive for his own good.
Alex muttered tightly, “That’s right. It was my stretch of beach she washed up on. I would say that holds me responsible.”
Dan and Maxim exchanged wry glances.
“Didn’t you used to dream about mermaids when you were little?” Cathy asked, taking a sip of her cranberry juice.
“He certainly did,” Maxim said.
Fran smiled broadly and snuggled closer to her husband who had her very sleepy wolfhound pup, Lucky, on his lap. “How very romantic.”
Dan turned to his wife. “So what were these dreams about, Angel?”
Alex sighed heavily. “When did these family dinners start?”
They all ignored him as Cathy explained, “Alex was always a stoic child. He rarely told us anything…private. But when he started having these dreams, the same one, every night for a full year, he couldn’t keep it to himself. I was rather young, but I still remember how my big brother, my very stoic, grumbling brother, looked when he’d tell us about this dream.”
“All right, that’s enough,” Alex said, his voice laced with warning.
Maxim chuckled. “Not nearly.”
Cathy smiled and continued, “He would sit on the roof of the stables and look out at the ocean and tell us all about her. Long red hair, green eyes, pale skin stepping out of the sea with her arms outstretched.”
“Don’t forget about her magical powers,” Maxim prompted.
Quite caught up in the whole mess, the king inquired, “What’s this about magic?”
Dan and Fran nodded quickly, both inquiring, “What about her magical powers?”
Alex groaned, stalked over to the bar and filled a glass with whiskey. How could such a stupid, adolescent dream come back to haunt him this way? And where were the silent and very sedate family dinners he’d always enjoyed—and had counted on tonight?
Cathy’s words came out like a sigh. “He said that when she looked at him he felt as though he could fly, as though he was free, as though he could do and be anything.”
Alex cursed, his knuckles white as he gripped the glass of whiskey.
Dan snorted. “What do you make of that, Max? Poetry or something?”
Maxim shrugged. “I’m not certain. But it sounds as though he was in love with her.”
Alex glared at his brother and sister. “You know, there are plenty of humiliating stories I can share with your spouses.”
Fran grinned widely, her eyes lighting up. “Oooo. Like what?”
Maxim gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. “He’s bluffing, sweetheart.”
“You want to try me, little brother?” Alex countered.
“How about after dinner,” Fran suggested on a chuckle. “When we’re all full and not as prickly.” She turned to Alex. “So, what does this Sophia look like?”
Alex shook his head at his new sister-in-law. She was quick, very quick. Turning the conversation back to him and this mystery they all seemed to want to solve. He should be steaming mad. But no man could be angry with this woman for long—that was clear. Smart, beautiful and glowing with pregnancy.
He stilled, his mind returning to a beach house not far away. Would Sophia glow from carrying his child?
“Red hair by any chance?” Fran asked softly.
With a wave of the hand, Alex tossed out without thinking, “Red hair, green eyes and pale skin. Don’t know about the magical powers.”
Everyone fell silent, only the crackling of the fire and the subtle tinkling of ice cubes in glasses could be heard. Alex could fairly feel them gaping at each other over what he’d just said.
“Why would she not come to dinner tonight?” the king asked at last.
“She wanted some time to herself,” Alex said tightly. “And after…the stress of losing her boat today, I thought it best not to overwhelm her.” He didn’t add in her condition—or potential condition.
The king drained his glass, then announced, “I would like to meet this young woman.”
Cathy nodded. “I think we all would.”
“How about a picnic lunch on the hill tomorrow?” Fran suggested. “With Aunt Fara and Ranen, and Glinda and the pups, too.”
Chest tight, Alex stared at his family as they planned and plotted a way to meet his new houseguest. Everything was being taken out of his hands today. What happened at the beach with Sophia; his strange need for her. And now the insistence of his family. He felt as though he was just an onlooker, a bystander, in his own life. As though some force of nature had taken over.
But before Alex could even attempt to snatch back any semblance of control, his father stood up and barked his command. “Very good. A picnic on the hill. That’s settled, then. Let’s go in to dinner now.”
Sophia stepped out of the bath feeling only mildly relaxed. Here she was, in the crown prince of Llandaron’s opulent bathroom of pristine white and rugged navy, attempting to soak off the day’s craziness.
But how could she soak away unease and hope, not to mention a need unlike any she’d ever felt before?
Her shrink back in San Diego would have a field day with her behavior today. Normally their sessions were comprised of past regrets and pains: her lonely childhood, her parents’ death, her devotion to her beloved grandfather, her wariness to get involved with, then subsequently lose someone she loved.
But this…
This situation that she’d found herself in was beyond all analysis.
Sophia stepped over to the gold-encrusted mirror above the sink, dropped her towel and stared at her reflection. Bright eyes, pink lips, flushed cheeks. She had the look of a woman who’d experienced lust and excitement and satisfaction. The look of a woman who’d just had life breathed into her.
The double meaning in those words had Sophia touching her belly.
A