The island had been in turmoil ever since the fateful day, two years before, when King Giorgio’s two sons, his only direct heirs, were killed in a yachting accident, along with one of their wives. Crown Prince Antonio had been particularly beloved by many factions in Niroli. It had been assumed he would soon be King himself, and his death had sent shock waves through every level of society.
The old king’s grief had been staggering and he had lost his will to govern. But when he had begun looking around at his grandchildren for a successor, he’d found that one after another they proved unsuitable or unwilling. Rumors had been flying that he was about to turn to an illegitimate child of Antonio’s, and now it seemed they were right on the money.
“But that is something I don’t want to get involved with,” she muttered to herself, and at the same time she heard Adam and the others coming back, and Fabio was suddenly there, rubbing against her leg.
To her consternation, Jeremy seemed to be sobbing.
“What have you done to him now?” she asked Adam fiercely, rising from her chair, all thoughts of his possible connection to royalty out the window.
“I haven’t done a thing,” he responded shortly. “He fell and scraped his knee before I found them. It’s bleeding. I’m going to have to find someone with a first-aid kit around here. Any ideas?”
She hesitated, but quickly realized something would have to be done. The man was one thing. She could be cold and dismissive to the man all day long if she felt like it. But the child was hurt and that was another matter. She couldn’t just leave him that way.
“Oh, bother!” she said, giving up on her self-imposed rule to keep Adam out of her house. “Come along, then.”
Grasping Fabio’s halter, she started off down the street. Behind her, she heard the man and the boy following. She could tell that Adam had swung Jeremy up into his arms and was carrying him. That mollified her somewhat. In fact, she was just a bit chagrined that she’d accused him of hurting his son. She would have to be careful about jumping to false conclusions in the future.
Future, her mind was screaming, trying to get her attention. What future? But she ignored it and hurried on.
“Where are we going?” Adam asked.
She held her head high. If it must be done, t’were best done quickly—and bravely, she told herself.
“To my house,” she said aloud.
“What? You live near here?”
“Just around the corner, actually.”
“Oh. Well, that’s handy.”
They turned the corner and Adam nodded to himself. This was just the sort of neighborhood he could picture her living in—quaint and traditional, yet neat and tidy and very well maintained. A sort of old-fashioned storybook lane. It fit.
What amazed him was how confidently she stepped along the walkway. She did have the dog to lead her, but a dog couldn’t do it all and she moved as though she wouldn’t allow herself a hint of uncertainty. His lopsided grin appeared almost against his will. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to start admiring the woman for more than just her very provocative feminine appeal.
She turned in through a neat picket fence to a small white cottage that could have housed the Seven Dwarves. A brightly painted red door beckoned. Window-boxes spilling over with flowers and a small wishing well completed the picture.
Any moment, he thought, someone is going to start singing “Someday My Prince Will Come”, in the background.
And that thought almost made him laugh out loud. So he was doing prince jokes now.
But he sobered quickly. Every now and then he began to realize just what he was playing around with here. Much as he needed the funding to stave off the hostile takeover of his company, was he really willing to trade in his freedom for a crown? He was going to have to decide soon. He was rapidly working his way into a position where he wasn’t going to have any choice in the matter.
The inside of the cottage looked as carefully maintained as the outside. The furniture appeared to be antiques lovingly saved from centuries past. And as a centerpiece to the room, a beautiful piano gleamed in the light coming in from the high windows.
He put Jeremy, still sniffling a bit, on the couch while Elena went to a cupboard and found disinfectant and bandages. He watched her, trying to see how she knew where to stand and where to reach. So far he hadn’t caught her in a mistake, and that seemed remarkable.
She let him take care of the wound, which seemed to make sense, though he was clumsy at it. Jeremy whimpered a bit when he put on the disinfectant and she went to the piano and began playing him happy tunes to take his mind off it and lift his spirits.
Adam could tell right away that she played beautifully, with the sort of emotion that touched even hardened hearts like his. Jeremy was intrigued, and once he was bandaged up he wanted to go to the piano and sit beside Elena on the bench. She began teaching him a few simple notes and he was eager to try them.
Adam watched for awhile, impressed that she seemed to have a natural way with children—or with his child, at any rate. He’d watched others try to reach Jeremy—nannies and teachers—and bomb out, totally. In fact, he’d about come to the conclusion the kid was unreachable. But Elena treated him in a normal way and he seemed to like her for it. Maybe there was hope after all.
It wasn’t the way she acted, he decided after watching for a few more minutes. It was who she was that got through to the boy. They just had a spontaneous connection. Funny. He wished he knew a way to create that with his son himself.
He didn’t usually wallow in the pain of his failed relationships, but for just a moment he let regrets surface. Why was it that he couldn’t bond with his boy? Why had Melissa, Jeremy’s mother, found it impossible to stay and create a family with them? Why had his own mother spent most of his childhood flitting around the playgrounds of the world instead of being at home, raising him? Was there something in him that pushed all these people away?
He indulged in a short, very obscene oath under his breath to erase that kind of thinking. Life was what it was. You could take it or leave it. But there was no room for whining.
Pushing away from the wall where he’d been leaning, he left the room to go outside and try his cell phone again. It was his only lifeline to his precious company— the one part of his life that had worked out beautifully. He had to save his company from the takeover. After years as a golden boy in the business, he was facing a sort of failure, and suddenly no one was returning his calls. If something didn’t happen fast—as in funds becoming available for quick use—it was going to be all over. That was why this delay in settling the crown succession thing was so frustrating. Retaining control of his company meant retaining his sense of identity. The head of Ryder Productions was who he was and what made him special. If he lost that—no, it didn’t bear thinking of.
The phone still wasn’t working for him and he began to pace about the yard to let off steam. He quickly became curious about Elena’s property and what sort of trees she’d planted. The atmosphere was just as pleasant outside as in and, just wandering about, he began to relax. There was a small stone terrace with a table and two chairs under an umbrella and a bank of colorful flowers. A tiny house just steps away from the main building was outfitted with twin beds and a wardrobe. Evidently the building had once served as a garage, then been renovated. He stared at it, wondering who used it. Then he went back into the cottage to find Elena playing tunes from Peter and the Wolf and Jeremy dozing with his head in her lap.
He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the tranquil scene. It seemed like a picture from another era, another place, as though he were looking through time, and maybe through the gauze of memory. A certain yearning crept into his heart as he stood there.
Very deliberately, he pushed it away. What did this have to do with the rat-race world he lived in today? Nothing. It was certainly