The Expectant Princess. Stella Bagwell
was from Jake Stanbury. Close to thirty years old with a tall, lean build and dark brown hair, he was the second son of Edward, who had arrived later that morning after the king’s accident. In fact, he claimed he’d driven up on the scene shortly after it had happened and was credited with notifying the police.
Dominique didn’t actually know either of her American cousins or her Uncle Edward. Nor was she yet sure what to make of their unannounced arrival in Old Stan-bury. Especially on the very day of her father’s accident. But Josephine had immediately welcomed them home and set them up in apartments on the palace grounds. With their mother setting that sort of cordial tone, Dominique had kept her doubts to herself and since then treated the three men as family. Nicholas and Isabel also appeared to be getting along with their American relatives.
“I’m not exactly fainthearted,” Dominique said to Jake. “I can take a jolt.”
Several feet away, Marcus rose from a high-back divan and joined Dominique in the middle of the room. Earlier he’d stopped by the family living quarters to discuss a foreign-trade agreement with Nicholas, but had wound up staying longer once the subject of the accident had been brought up.
For the past few minutes he’d been discreetly watching Dominique move restlessly around the room. Her outward appearance was elegant in a dove-gray skirt and a pale pink sleeveless sweater. A single strand of pearls rested against her neck and a pearl ring circled with diamonds adorned her right hand. But though she looked quite beautiful, he could sense a tightly controlled tenseness about her which worried him. Of all the Stanburys, she seemed to be taking the loss of King Michael the hardest, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit.
“Dominique, if you want to go out to the scene that badly, I’ll take you myself. I have a few questions of my own about this investigation. Seeing the scene might help answer them,” he offered.
Grateful for his support, she looked at him with relief. “I wouldn’t want to put you out, Marcus. But if you’d really like to go, I’m certainly game.”
He smiled at her, then glanced at his wristwatch. “Just let me go home and change my clothes. I’ll pick you up in the courtyard in fifteen minutes.”
Ten minutes later Dominique was ready and standing in wait on the stone driveway at the back of the castle. When Marcus pulled up beside her in a classic little MGB, she didn’t wait for him to get out and open her door. She slid into the car and greeted him with a wide, grateful smile.
“You don’t know what a reprieve you’ve given me.” She spoke while buckling her seat belt. “I think I would have exploded if I hadn’t gotten out of there soon.”
Marcus put the sleek convertible into gear and headed them back across the drawbridge and on to the road to Old Stanbury.
“Nicholas tells me you haven’t been out of the palace since your father’s accident,” he commented.
Her sigh was weary. “No. And the place is beginning to get to me.” Grimacing, she glanced over at him. “I mean, not that I don’t like my home. But, I suppose the university has been my home for so long now that, well, I’m just not use to the confinement here at the palace. Or being constantly observed by my family. Even Pru smothers me.”
“The accident has put a strain on everyone, Dominique. I believe your mother is coping by trying to put the whole thing out of her mind.”
Her frown deepened as she considered his words. “She’s just so damn unfeeling at times I want to scream.”
He smiled indulgently. “Your mother was bred to be strong. No matter what was thrown her way.”
“Maybe so. But I happen to think the people of Edenbourg expect to see a queen weeping with tears of loss for her husband.”
He turned his head slightly and looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “Because that’s what you want to see from her?”
Dominique thought about his question for a moment. “I only know if I’d been married to a man for thirty-three years and borne him three children, I’d be stricken with grief.”
Yes, he could see where Dominique would be different from her mother, Marcus thought. Josephine was a rigidly controlled woman, whereas Dominique had appeared to grow into a passionate person. And something told him that if she did ever give her heart to a man, it would be totally, not just halfway.
“Perhaps Josephine just hides her emotions well. Some of us do.”
A glance at him suddenly reminded her of how close together the confines of the British car had put them. His shoulder was only a hand’s span from hers, and even though the vinyl top was up and the day overcast, she was near enough to see the pores in his skin and the faint afternoon shadow of his dark beard. He’d changed into khakis and a pale yellow oxford shirt. The cuffs were rolled back against forearms lightly fuzzed with fine black hair. The collar and first button of the shirt were not fastened and to her own dismay she found herself trying to peep between the loosened folds of fabric.
“Does that mean when you were going through your divorce you kept your feelings hidden? Even from your family?” she asked him.
The road had become steep and narrow. Marcus downshifted the car and kept his gaze firmly on the oncoming traffic.
“My family is just my father now. I have no brothers or sisters, if you recall. Mother died a couple years back. Complications from diabetes. At the time of my divorce, Father really wasn’t in any shape to deal with all my problems. I kept most of them concealed from him. Thankfully, we’re both doing better now.”
Was he? Dominique wondered. He’d just admitted to keeping his feelings to himself. Maybe he was still grieving for his wife and child. Maybe the pain was hidden from his eyes and camouflaged by his brief smiles. The idea bothered her greatly and she wondered just who or what it would take to get inside Marcus Kent.
Nearly thirty minutes passed before they reached the spot where the king’s car had crashed through the heavy metal railing that guarded the narrow, twisting highway.
Because the police and other intelligence forces were still investigating the site, the road was blocked and the cliffside cordoned off with bright yellow tape. Marcus was forced to leave the MGB far back down the mountain road and the two of them walked the remaining distance until stopped by an officer in a dark blue uniform.
Marcus quickly presented him with his identification and then Dominique’s. After studying it closely, the young officer went from abrupt and suspicious to embarrassed and fumbling all over himself.
“I didn’t realize you were with the royal family,” he said, then blushing, he swept off his hat and glanced sheepishly at Dominique. “I mean, I didn’t recognize you, Princess Dominique. Nor you, Mr. Kent.”
“I’m glad to see you’re doing your job and making no exceptions,” Marcus assured him. “Is it all right if we have a look around? We’ll try not to disturb anything or get in the way.”
“Of course,” he said, then practically clicking his heels with attention, he lifted the tape to usher them under. “I’ll let everyone else know who you are so that you won’t be bothered.”
The two of them thanked the officer then moved on. As they walked, Marcus teased, “How does it feel to be an unrecognized princess?”
She smiled. “Actually, I like it. I’ve never wanted to be fawned over. As if I were more special than the next person. I’m not. I happened to be born to the king and queen. If not for that, I’d be just like any other woman in Edenbourg.”
No, Marcus thought. She would never be like just any woman in this small country. Or anywhere else for that matter. She had a regal bearing, a beauty and compassion about her that made her stand out above others. The fact that she was so unpretentious made her even more appealing as a person.
Suddenly aware that she was no longer at his side, he paused and glanced back to see she’d stopped on the soggy cliffside.