The Secret Prince (8 page)

She swallowed. “I just hate to see great opportunities go to waste.”

“No, it's more than that.” His gaze was crisply perceptive. He stepped up to her. “You want kids of your
own, don't you? Deep down, I mean, beyond all the fear and sad memories, you
want
them.”

A solid knot grew in her throat. The beginnings of tears prickled behind her lashes. “We can't have everything we want. Sometimes we just have to settle for what's best for us…what's safe.”

“So there
are
regrets,” he said, hitting too close to home. “How will you deal with those regrets later on, Elly? What happens when you are forty years old, fifty or sixty, and your dad is gone and it's just you? Will you look back on these barren years and be content? Or will you ache for the children and grandchildren other women have?”

She turned sharply away from him and blinked back fat tears. “Stop that! Not everyone is meant to be a parent. I
like
my independence. I enjoy being—” How was she ever going to finish that sentence?
Alone?
I like being
alone?
That wasn't true. As a child she had thrived on being part of a family. She would have welcomed two, three, six brothers and sisters, if only she could have kept her mother too.

“You like being what, Elly?” He moved to within inches of her, and she jerked backward but had nowhere to go. The glass walls of the gazebo curved around behind her.

“I like…not having to
worry
about other people,” she blurted out. “With children, I'd be fussing over them all the time, afraid they'd be struck down by disease, hit by a car or beaten up by school bullies. I'd be a
horrible
mother.”

His hand lifted to twist a strand of her red hair. “I think you'd make a wonderful mother. There are, you know, no guarantees in life. Whenever we want something that's very important to us, we must give up
something in return. And when things don't work out as we wish, we have to go on with life.”

Elly's lips trembled. Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she dashed them away with the back of her hand. “Don't do this to me, Dan. Don't make me feel selfish.”

“That's not what I want you to feel.”

She choked on a sob. “What then?”

He moved forward and took her in his arms. The warmth was incredible. “I just want you to be sure of what you really want or don't want. Regret is the bitterest of pills.”

She swallowed, staring helplessly up at him as he held her. “I've often wondered if she knew.”

“She?” He looked confused.

“My mother. I've tried putting myself in her place. I wonder if she understood the risks of her heart condition, if she'd been warned by her doctor that even a C-section would be dangerous, but she never said anything about it to me…maybe not even to my father. She wanted a second baby so badly, but for a long time she just couldn't seem to get pregnant again. Then several years passed and my parents stopped talking about another child.”

“They'd given up?” he guessed.

“Or maybe that was when the doctor told her that it would be too risky to try again,” she whispered against his chest. Why was it so much easier to speak of these things, these terribly sad things, while Dan was holding her like this? “I just miss her so very much.”

It was impossible to stop crying now. Elly wept openly and Dan held her, letting her mourn the woman who had brought her into the world, allowing her to cleanse her heart of the bitterness and grief that kept
her from loving fully and openly. He didn't try to stop her tears, didn't tell her that everything would be all right or that she would forget her mother's sacrifice. And she silently thanked him for that small, precious gift of silence, of compassion.

When the tears finally stopped, Elly felt lighter of spirit.

Dan didn't speak now. He just ran the pad of his wide thumb beneath each of her eyes in turn, wiping away the moisture as she gazed up at him. He wasn't smiling and he wasn't frowning. His expression was one of concentration on an important task. So she didn't see the kiss coming until his mouth had pressed gently but firmly over hers.

She savored the melting sensation of their lips. Emotions burst from her as if reborn from within a dead soul. A whirl of feelings wrapped around her—so heady, so potent that her knees almost buckled beneath her.

As if knowing this, Dan tightened his arms around her, supporting her against his body as his kiss deepened. The world spun. The gazebo's windows swam before her eyes, glittering in winter sunlight. The air felt suddenly thinner, finer, easier to breathe and she was no longer aware of chill beyond the warm circle of Dan's arms. The darkness of the past receded.

Elly's breasts pressed against the curve of his muscled abdomen. She could feel each ridge, each toned band made taut by miles of swimming. Her jacket had fallen open, and he wore no coat. She was sure he was as aware of her body as she was of his. It seemed as if they'd escaped to a world of their own—apart from family, the castle's immense staff, the press who would continue to hound Dan now that they'd found him.

He had spoken to her heart, and his words might not solve all of her problems, but they had healed a small part of her and brought new hope to her life. He was right, of course. She wasn't guaranteeing herself a long, healthy life by avoiding the single potential danger of childbirth. She was simply avoiding life at its richest. And one day, very likely, she would regret her decision. But in the meantime, it was all she could do to consider being close to a man whose masculinity she could even now feel pulsing between them.

Elly kissed him back, deeply, allowing her lips to part welcomingly for him. A small sigh of contentment escaped from her soul. Clinging to him she delighted in the way his hands smoothed upward along her ribs beneath her jacket. His palms pressed against the sides of her breasts through her clothing, and her nipples tingled in anticipation.

It had been so long, so very long since she'd felt desire for a man's touch. And now it seemed as if no man would do but this one. Daniel Eastwood. No less than a prince.

The fierce passion in his eyes told her that he was no longer thinking of anything but the signals their bodies were sending each other. A longing filled Elly to feel him inside her, even if only this one time. The need crowded out all caution, all warnings of consequences.

Dan drew her along with him as he backed up, then sat on a wooden bench. Pulling her down onto his lap he pressed his cheek against the V of her blouse collar then turned his head to kiss the sensitive valley between her breasts.

Elly sucked in a ragged breath, let her head drop back and soaked up every delicious sensation as his
lips slipped lower. With one thumb he hooked a bra cup, tugging it down to expose her breast. Cool air tingled against her exposed flesh. He ran the pad of one finger around then across her nipple, and she thought she'd rocket through the glass roof.

“Oh!” She gulped to catch her breath. “Oh, Dan!”

When his mouth closed over her nipple and ravenously feasted, Elly felt a sudden rush of heat between her thighs. She lifted off his lap with a soft gasp of pleasure. His hand took advantage of the new opening and slid between her legs, smoothing upward but stopping short of touching her where the heat had centered most torridly.

She silently begged him not to stop, wanted to ask him to use his strong fingers to stroke and probe her, prolonging the fire building within her body. But she couldn't put her needs into words. And unless she could give him what he wanted in return, she believed it wasn't right to accept the intimacy he was offering her.

Her head fell forward against his strong shoulder and she pressed one palm gently, reluctantly against his chest in a Stop signal. His hand immediately moved back down to neutral territory on her knee. His lips released her breast and he looked questioningly up at her.

“I won't hurt you,” he whispered. “I won't let anything happen to you, Elly. Trust me.”

With all her heart she wanted to. Her body's hunger called out for him, but the past inevitably crept in over the warmth and desire again. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I'm sorry…so very sorry,” she murmured.

“Sh-sh-sh,” he said, soothingly. “It's all right.”

It wasn't all right, not by a long shot, she thought. “I can't keep letting things get out of control. I swear, I'm not trying to torment you, Dan. It's just that…that…” She lost it then and broke into tears. “It's just so hard.”

“I know,” he whispered, holding her, rocking her as his hand stroked the back of her head.

Elly knew he couldn't possibly understand the war being waged inside her between her natural passion and her fears. She hardly understood it herself.

He held her tighter, touching his lips to her damp cheek, bathing it in comforting warmth that never seemed to sink into the rest of her. “It's not important. You're safe with me, Elly. We won't do this again. It's not worth putting you through the agony.”

She felt her body finally relax against his, sheltered in his arms.

He spoke softly to her. “If that's what you want, we'll just be friends. Okay?”

It wasn't what she wanted, but it was what she supposed she must settle for. “Okay,” she agreed, lapsing into post-sob hiccups. Then she did feel safe, more so than ever in her life.

F
riends,
Dan thought bitterly each day whenever he saw Elly. It wasn't at all what he had wanted, and he didn't know if he could be only that to her. Being holed up in the castle with her made it all the more difficult, for there was no place to escape to.

Ten days after they had arrived in Elbia, neither his relationship with Elly nor the one with Jacob looked any better. Elly kept her distance, and Jacob barely offered him a nod when they happened to pass in a hallway. Dan was pretty sure his brother was avoiding both him and Madge at mealtimes. They'd met formally two more times, but Dan still refused to sign anything, as he remained uncertain that he should be the one to make a decision for his mother. Madge still insisted that she wanted nothing from Karl's estate.

He thought he understood her reluctance to make her liaison with the monarch official. After all, once it was
put in writing that Dan was Karl von Austerand's illegitimate son, Madge's indiscretion would be there for all the world to see and comment on. And he knew how much that would hurt her. Then there was the notoriety that the scandal would bring to the Haven. He was torn, wishing he knew what was best for everyone.

A good part of the reason he felt unable to think clearly was Elly. He believed that she felt something special for him, and that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. It frustrated him to no end that he'd promised to stop pursuing her—but what else could he have done when she obviously was in such pain whenever they came close to intimacy?

Every time he saw her it became more and more a test of his will not to touch her. The temptation was nearly impossible to ignore. He began to wonder if his imagination was playing tricks on him. How could she have felt so very different in his arms than any other woman? How could the simple appearance of the woman in a room send his heart reeling and his libido into overdrive?

The castle, as immense as it was, no longer felt big enough to contain the two of them. He grew frantic to break free—to swim, to run up mountainsides and down into valleys, to expend some of the pent-up energy being shut up with Elly had built inside him. But Jacob was insistent that no one leave the castle grounds, and as much as he hated giving in to his brother's rules, he supposed they had little alternative.

One morning, ten days after they'd arrived in Elbia, Dan spent two hours in Jacob's gym, running on the treadmill then lifting weights. No matter what he did, he couldn't exhaust himself or stop thinking about Elly.
Then she walked into the gym dressed in hot-pink biking shorts and a matching sports bra—and he rolled his eyes in desperation as his body reacted to her sexy outfit.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked pertly. “I'm going stir crazy.”

“Like everyone else in this damn castle,” he muttered. “I don't understand the point of this siege mentality. We can't avoid the press forever. What are we waiting for?”

“Jacob's advisors are hoping the paparazzi's fascination with you and Madge will wear out if we're patient enough.”

He shook his head. “I wonder…”

Dan lifted a forty-pound dumbbell from the rack and curled it with one hand for another ten repetitions. He watched his biceps swell then relax with each flexing of his arm, but he wasn't paying much attention to the exercise. His mind was on Elly. She looked adorable in her workout gear, so close in design and coverage to underwear. He remembered with intense clarity touching her breasts, now so sparsely covered. He remembered kissing them. A lick of flame swept through him, and he had to put down the dumbbell and take a steadying breath.

“Try to be patient,” Elly said encouragingly. “Not even the staff can leave the castle grounds without being accosted by a dozen reporters. We might as well enjoy our captivity in luxury.” She smiled at him, as if to gently chide him for his complaints.

He shrugged good-naturedly. “I guess this isn't exactly on a level with being thrown into the dungeon.”

“Hardly. Which is another reason why I have to exercise. I've never eaten such amazing food. It's just
too delicious to turn down.” Elly blinked up at him as she strode over to a stationary bicycle and climbed on. “I stooped to seconds last night,” she confessed. “And did you have any of that yummy chocolate torte?”

He shook his head. “I don't have the sweet tooth you seem to have.” But he could certainly do with a nibble on her throat right now, he thought without a trace of guilt. Dan slung a towel around his neck and leaned against a wall as he watched her start to pedal.

“Are you finished with your workout?” she asked.

“I suppose. Don't feel a whole lot better for it. I need to get outside…and I don't mean for a stroll in the garden.” A thought suddenly struck him. “You said the staff can't get out without being harassed?”

“That's right. One of the groundskeepers told me that every time he comes or leaves, he's bombarded with questions.” She laughed. “He just tells the reporters he never sees any of us, doesn't know a thing.”

“But he comes and goes,” Dan repeated.

“Well, yes, he has a family in the town and needs to get home to them. But if it were you or me—”

“But that's just the point!” Dan interrupted her, his spirits soaring at an idea. “The paparazzi are only interested in the royals, me or Madge…or anyone who is willing to talk about what's happening inside the castle. If a gardener or maid or cook doesn't have information they can use, they don't care how many times they come and go from the castle.”

Elly squinted at him suspiciously. “So?”

“So maybe another groundskeeper will leave by the back gate this afternoon.”

Understanding brightened her face. “Dan, you wouldn't…”

“Want to come along?” He sensed, even as he said the words that he was inviting trouble.

Elly laughed. “There's absolutely no way both of us could slip out unnoticed.”

“Not exactly unnoticed. Would you prefer to be a cook or a maid?”

She gave him a skeptical smile, but he could tell she was as excited as he was at the prospect of escaping, if only for a short while, from their confinement. “I'll go talk to the cook. She seems a cheery soul. Maybe she'll lend me something from one of her assistants.”

 

Less than an hour later, Elly met Dan inside the door that led from the kitchen on the ground floor out into the gardens.

“Now, you do keep your head down and don't speak a word
auf englisch
while they're in hearing,” Cook advised Elly as she helped her on with a white kitchen smock. “You just keep saying,
‘Entschuldigung! Ich wisse nichts.'”

“That means, Excuse me! I know nothing,” Elly explained to Dan.

“What about me?” Dan asked. He had already borrowed some old clothing from Cook's husband, the royal family's head gardener.

“Let the
Fraulein
do the talking,” Cook said bluntly. “Your
Deutsch ist
lousy.”

Dan laughed, not taking offense. “I don't care as long as I get to see something outside of these stone walls.”

“Here,” Cook said, pressing a mesh shopping bag stuffed with paper-wrapped parcels on Dan, “you may get hungry. I've sent word to the guards on the rear
gate that you'll be coming. They will let you out and watch for your return.”

“Thank you,” Elly said gratefully. “You've been great. You won't get into trouble for helping us, will you?”

Cook winked at her. “The king, he used to lick my cooking spoons as a little boy. He would never be angry with his
Tante
Anna.”

As they approached the back gate, Dan felt the tension building in his shoulders and neck. It was so warm that they really didn't need coats, yet their simple locally made garments made them look their parts as a groundsman and cook's assistant.

There seemed to be just as many reporters attached to the rear gate as there had been at the main entrance. As soon as the guard let them through the iron grille a flurry of excitement ran through their ranks. Several started barking into cell phones, alerting others that prey was afoot.

But Elly played her role impeccably. Murmuring a few guttural words in German as Cook had instructed she jutted out her chin, dropped her glance and headed down the road in a stiff stride, all business. Dan stayed close by her side, glowering at the reporters who tossed out hopeful questions. He pulled his cap lower over his eyes and tried to look as bored and unintelligent as possible.

By the time they'd gone a hundred yards down the road, their followers had dismissed them as unlikely sources of information and returned to their positions outside the gates.

Elly laughed out loud as soon as they were out of hearing. “We did it! We actually fooled them!”

“You should take all the credit. If I'd opened my
mouth they would have known immediately that I was an American.” He looked appreciatively at her. She was glowing, and he felt a shared enthusiasm for the day that spread out before them.

The weather was balmy for winter. The sun shone brightly, chasing away the chill and melting the last traces of snow that lingered among the roots of roadside shrubs.

“I feel positively giddy with freedom!” she cried. “Where will we go? What will we do? How about a stroll around the city?” Her eyes sparkled.

Dan grimaced. “I'm afraid that would increase our chances of being caught. Someone in town will know we're not really from the castle staff.”

She stopped walking and frowned. “What then?”

“The lake,” he said. “I could see a corner of it from my window, and it doesn't look as if it's that far. A mile or so.”

“Good. By the time we get there, I'll be hungry enough for lunch, and we can see what Cook has packed for us.” She peered curiously at the mesh bag.

Dan set a crisp walking pace, and Elly seemed to have no trouble keeping up. Color filled her cheeks as they strode away from town, past cottages and into a wooded area that reminded him of tales from his childhood—Little Red Riding Hood, Hansel and Gretel. He felt free and young and daring, and having Elly at his side made the outing even more delicious.

The knowledge that nothing could happen between them seemed less painful here. They could be friends, as she wanted, and share an outing without feeling compelled to be anything more. He felt in a very reasonable, mature mood at the moment.

By the time the trees opened out into a clearing and
he could see a ribbon of blue water before them, his body felt energized from the exercise. He was pleasantly aware of Elly's slim figure beside him, and of her breathing which was quicker and deeper from the walking. But he felt satisfied that he could enjoy her presence without becoming aroused. This is good, he thought.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“If you are, we can eat first.”

“First?” She looked around as if trying to assess alternatives, given the deserted woods surrounding them. A worry line creased her forehead.

“I thought we might go for a swim,” he suggested.

“You're kidding, in the middle of winter?” She laughed, then went on before he could respond. “Oh, I forgot, you're the one with the elevated body temperature who swims in oceans in November.”

He grinned. “Feel this.” He took her hand and walked her down to the edge of the water.

She humored him and bent down to touch her fingertips to the water's softly lapping wavelets. Her expression changed from wariness to amazement. “It's warm. Why?”

“Fed by a thermal spring. Cook's husband told me about it while he was dressing me. It stays the same temperature year round.” And with the sun beaming down on them, it didn't seem too cold to shed clothing that now felt much too heavy for the day.

“I can't swim very well,” Elly objected. “And I don't have a bathing suit.”

He winked at her. “You have a natural one.”

“Oh, no!” She laughed at him. “Skinny dipping alone might be one thing but not—”

“Not with me looking on with lust in my heart?” he teased her.

“Something like that.” Her pretty eyes skittered away from his.

“You wore that stretchy little athletic bra and bike shorts this morning. Didn't cover anything more than undies. Swim in your underwear.”

She gazed longingly out over the crystal-blue water. “It does look refreshing,” she admitted, “after all that exercise.”

“Go for it,” he encouraged her, already shrugging out of his jacket and starting to unbutton the gardener's flannel shirt. He stripped down to his hip-hugging briefs.

Elly hesitated only a moment longer. Then, with one final cautious look around her, as if to make sure no one was watching, she tore off her coat then the white cotton smock. She still looked a little nervous, but her eyes gleamed at the water and she ran barefoot toward it shouting at him, “I'll beat you in!”

“Oh no you won't!” he yelled, even as he raced toward the water's edge, flashed past her and dove, slicing through the mirror surface at a shallow angle. The water glided over his flesh, supporting him with less buoyancy than his lady the ocean but still gently lifting him so that he could skim up to the surface with little effort. He broke through with a splash and stood on the silty bottom, looking around for Elly.

She had walked in and stood with the water up to her waist. “This is marvelous! It felt cool near the edge, but there's a current of warmth right where I'm standing. Must be from the spring.”

He nodded, pretending to listen to her words, but far more interested in the view—her pert breasts rising se
ductively above her bra, her slim waist, her eyes shining at him.

“Could you swim well enough to make it up the shore to that floating log?” he asked, pointing a hundred feet or so up the beach.