Her Prince's Secret Son (14 page)

“A fact I deeply regret. Though this is no excuse, the months after I returned from war were a terrible time. I was wounded and angry. I’d lost my dearest friend and thousands of fine warriors. My father was recently dead. My country was in postwar chaos and I was her young and inexperienced leader. Being betrayed by the only woman I’d ever loved seemed to fit into the general theme of my life. Without our son to live for, that would have been a hopeless time.”

“No, Aleks. Even without Nico, you would have served your people well. You would have turned Carvainia into the thriving, beautiful place it is today. You are a born leader.” A reminder of her commoner status. Aleks was born to the throne and required a woman of equal quality. She was born a nobody.

He smiled a little. “So, you like my country?”

“I love it.” Just as I love you, she thought. But she didn’t say as much. Instead she spoke of the one wish he might grant. “I want to stay in Carvainia.”

“This is good to know because I have something to discuss with you.”

“About?”

“Nico’s future.”

Sara’s chin went up. “I want to be in that future, Aleks. Don’t deny me that, not now when you know how much I love him.”

“And what do I get in exchange?”

“Whatever it takes. Anything you ask.”

“Anything?” His eyes twinkled. “Why, Sara, you have no idea what a man of my stature might require of such a beautiful, desirable woman.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do anything. I love my son that much.”

“And what of the father?” His face became intense. “Do you still love the father as you once did? For you cannot deny that. I know now that you loved me.”

Hopeful about the undercurrent flowing between them, Sara could answer with nothing less than the truth. “Yes. I do.”

A soft sigh issued from his broad chest. He slid to one knee in front of her, clasping her hands in his. “Sara Presley, my beautiful, courageous, red-haired woman, mother of my child, heart of my heart, I, who was a blind man, will be blind no longer. I love you, too. No lies or raging anger could ever remove the wanting from my soul. I will want you until I die.”

Heart lifting with each beautiful word, Sara touched her beloved’s cheek. “But I’m not a Carvainian. I’m not royal.”

“Those are my mother’s requirements, not mine, and certainly not the rules of this nation. Carvainia needs
you
for her queen. Nico needs his mother. And the Prince of Carvainia requires a brave and fearless red-haired wife. Will you be that woman, Sara Presley? Will you grant me my fondest desire and marry me?”

Head reeling, heart thundering like a Kansas tornado, Sara opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say a word, the door slammed backward on its hinges.

Aleks bolted up to his feet, stance protective.

And then he laughed.

The most beautiful little boy in the world rushed inside the elegant room and threw his arms around Prince Aleksandre’s legs. Earnest face turned upward, black eyes batting, he said, “Did you ask her, Papa? Did she say yes?”

Voice amused, Aleks stroked his son’s hair. “I asked, but she has not given me an answer.”

Nico’s eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. “But she must say yes, Papa. It was my fondest wish. I wished in the garden and I never, ever told.”

By now, Sara vacillated between laughter and tears. She pressed her fingers against trembling lips.

“Yours, too?” Aleks asked with mock gravity. “Then, come, we must convince her together.” The warrior prince returned to one knee and drew Nico down with him. “Now, you on the other side. A proposal must be done properly.”

Adorably serious, Nico imitated his father, one knee on the floor and his tiny hand reaching for one of Sara’s. The sweetness of the moment wrapped around her, warm and beautiful, a moment in time to capture for eternity. Her son. Her man. What more could she ask of life?

“We’re waiting for an answer, Sara.” Aleks’s deep baritone was warm with love, the cold facade of Prince Aleksandre completely gone. “Will you marry us?”

Nico shot his father an exasperated look. “Wait, Papa. What about the Mama part?”

Sara’s pulse stuttered. Did Nico know? Her gaze flew to Aleks. He nodded. “I told him that his mother—
you
—had been separated from us during the terrible war, but that you had finally found him again when he needed you most.”

The tears shimmering on Sara’s eyelashes broke loose. “I have looked for you for such a long, long time, Nico. For you and your Papa.”

“Now that you’re home, don’t ever leave us again. Okay?”

This was the moment she’d dreamed of but never believed would happen, and all she could manage was, “Okay.”

Six months later

T
HE WEDDING OF THE CENTURY
took place on a day when the sun was ordered to shine, the sea instructed to remain calm and blue, and every flower in Carvainia was expected to bloom.

Heart thundering in his chest, Aleks stood at the top of the left staircase, looking across the wide expanse of ancient, shining hall to his bride on the opposite side. After all that happened, he’d never expected to see this moment, but there she was. It was his first glimpse at her wedding dress, an American custom he found amusing. He’d seen everything else about her. Why not her wedding dress?

But Sara was worth the wait. Resplendent in creamy satin that nipped her narrow waist and hinted at her luscious curves, Sara was as regal as any royal-born queen. In a gesture that had touched him deeply, she had accepted his mother’s offer to wear the simple diamond tiara Irena had worn in her own wedding. The concession gave him hope that the two could become friends.

Beneath the tiara, Sara’s cinnamon-red hair was a crown of glory from which flowed gauzy layers of double veil as
featherlight and airy as a Carvainian spring. She moved, flowing toward the steps, one hand on the banister, her glowing face turned toward him.

Aleks dipped his chin, unable to keep the smile from blooming. His wedding would not be a stiff and emotionless event, joining two royal houses. His was a wedding of love. He had every right to smile.

Sara smiled, too, and holding each other’s gaze, they took the steps in unison. Sara’s long train followed, a frothy, elegant entourage befitting his bride.

At the bottom, they turned together and met in the center hall. In this final moment of semiprivacy, with only the uniformed doormen waiting at the huge double doors, Aleks took the tips of her cold fingers and gently drew his bride to him.

“Shall I muss your lipstick?”

Her glossy-peach mouth curved. “Please do.”

He did.

“What will the photographers think?” she asked, eyes shining with a love that was all his.

“They will know their prince married for love.”

Carvainians had rejoiced at the announced engagement, though some expressed concern that Sara was not of royal lineage and brought nothing with her to the country. Aleks knew better. He’d left his heart in America. She’d brought it back.

“Your people await,” she whispered, and he saw her nerves. They’d chosen a very public ceremony on a yacht in the harbor so that as many Carvainians who wished could attend the nuptials. Afterward, they would sail along the coastline for a day to greet thousands of others before heading out to sea for a much-anticipated honeymoon.

“
Our
people await,” he corrected. Holding her soft, chilled hand in his, he started forward, eager to claim his bride.

The massive doors swung wide and the noise rushed in. Sara vacillated between incredible joy and pure terror. She’d have preferred a quiet wedding in the children’s garden or the family chapel, but she understood the important symbolism of this public ceremony on Aleks’s beloved sea.

In the days since the announced engagement, she had become a public figure, meeting and greeting at dozens of functions around the beautiful little nation. The Carvainian people had welcomed her, accepting Aleks’s choice, and she was determined to give them a loving and kind queen.

Besides, what woman didn’t dream of a wedding so grand and perfect with a handsome prince at her side? Even cynical Penny had been won over by Aleks’s charm.

Scanning the ship’s deck, she searched for her friend and spotted the shining blond head, bouncing up and down like a rubber ball. Yes, Penny was here and as excited as a puppy. Aleks had brought everyone that mattered, though the American contingent was small, a handful of friends and a few distant cousins who had kept in contact after her mother had died.

There was nothing left in America to return to, even if she’d wanted to go back. Everything she loved was here.

Penny was now the sole owner of the bookstore, for a sum of one America dollar, though Sara would visit. After all, she’d promised Nico some wonderful books.

Sara squeezed Aleks’s fingers and he winked at her. She laughed, partly from nerves but mostly from happiness.

Cheers and applause swelled as the wedding couple exited the castle and began walking the long path down to the sea. Military men and women in crisp white uniforms lined the pathway. The crowd, huge as it was, remained polite behind
the low, decorative barriers, though flashbulbs snapped at a constant rate.

A red carpet sprinkled with a rainbow of tiny flowers led the way down to the shore and the moored yacht where the wedding party was already in place.

Sara’s magnificent train trailed behind her for yards, held up by eight young ladies, four on each side. Half of the dark-haired girls were commoners, the other half of the royal line, but all had been selected for their good deeds and not for their last names. The announcement had pleased the Carvainian press, who heralded their soon-to-be queen as a friend to all. And that’s exactly what she wanted to be.

From a flatboat in the harbor, a military band, their instruments glistening in the sunshine, played the Carvainian national anthem as Sara and Aleks proceeded across the lawn. All around the yacht, a flotilla of flower-bedecked boats bobbed gently on the serene sea.

With sabers drawn and resting at their sides, military attendants, stiff and proper in white uniforms, lined the board-walk up onto the ship. This was Aleks’s honor guard, a group of men with whom he’d served. As the couple passed, the men snapped the sabers to their shoulders, symbolically ready to defend and protect their prince and his bride. Sara felt Aleks’s quiver and understood his emotion. He loved these men, as they loved him.

In the months of the betrothal she’d learned much about the man she was about to marry. He was a loving father, a good son, a true and worthy prince who grieved for the loss of his soldiers and provided generously for their families. He ruled his nation with a gentle hand and a wise heart.

She was proud and blessed to join herself to such a man.

As they ascended to the deck and the waiting wedding
party, Aleks held her elbow. She was glad for the support because her knees wobbled. In this surreal moment, the swell of music and people and the smell of ocean and flowers overwhelmed her senses.

“Papa, Mama.” Nico’s whisper came to her through all the noise. She turned to find his wide, white smile and excited black eyes peering at her from beside Queen Irena.

Irena guided the little prince forward. He was dressed in white tails and crimson cravat exactly like his father’s. Together the pair was stunning. Her love for them left her breathless.

She held out a hand, embarrassed to see it tremble. Nico wiggled into place between her and Aleks. The three of them stood beneath an arch of feather flags, white-columned banners of sheer fabric billowing in the sea breeze. The clergyman, decked in long, flowing robes of crimson and cream, began the ceremony.

Even with thousands of spectators crowding the shoreline and spreading up over the hillsides, a reverent hush fell, broken only by the lap of water and an occasional birdcall.

Beautiful, though unfamiliar words were spoken joining Prince Aleksandre Lucian Domenico d’Gabriel with Sara Elizabeth Presley. And though the pomp and ceremony went on for a while, Sara lost track of time as she treasured every word, every Carvainian tradition kept, every glimpse into her beloved’s eyes.

And then it was over and Aleks reached for her.

“This is an American tradition I must keep,” he said, a half grin on his face as he kissed her.

A shout of approval went up from the shore but was drowned out by a deafening roar overhead. Bemused and happy, Sara held tight to Aleks’s hand as they raised their faces to the sky. A precision team of Carvainian Air Force jets
swooped past, leaving a wake of red-and-white contrails to honor their prince and his bride. As the planes disappeared from sight, fireworks exploded in a kaleidoscope of color against a backdrop of blue sky and fair sea.

“In my loneliest hours,” Aleks said, gazing down at her with a look that melted her bones, “I pictured you here exactly like this.”

She laughed softly. “In my wildest dreams I never imagined
anything
like this. You a prince. The two of us married. Here with our son.”

“Would you have dreamed it if you’d known?”

“Oh, yes.” She cupped his firm, smooth jaw. “My dreams were always of you, no matter who you are or where you live. The man you are inside is the man I love.”

Heedless of the crowd, he drew her close again. She placed a hand against his strong, warrior’s heart, content to know that it beat for her.

Cameras flashed. But they’d carved out these seconds of privacy and they would have them.

“Your love is a powerful thing, my queen. It has healed me. It has healed our son.” He reached inside his jacket and withdrew an envelope. “I have a gift for you.”

Curious, with shaky fingers, Sara opened the flap. Inside were the shredded bits of a million-dollar bank draft.

“I don’t understand.”

“I discovered it in my desk that night before Maria’s attack on you and Nico.”

“Before the attack? Then you knew—?”

“Yes, I knew you were sincere, that you had not agreed to the transplant for money. I was bewildered and broken and unable to sleep. That’s why I was awake when Nico called for help. When I saw these scraps of paper, I knew I could never
send you away. Even if my mother had told the truth, I couldn’t let you go. Even if I was the worst kind of fool, I could not lose you again. You owned my heart. A warrior dies without his heart.”

Tears prickled the back of her eyelids. “Oh Aleks. Of all the gifts you’ve given me, this one is the most beautiful.”

With a smile, he bumped his forehead against hers. “That was exactly what I expected you to say.” He arched his eyebrows toward the water. “Shall we?”

She caught his meaning instantly. “Yes, let’s do.”

Together they went to the railing, trailed by attendants and photographers. Each took a portion of the shredded paper, then joined hands, lifting them high. Nico ran to join them, raising both hands to clasp his parents’ sleeves.

“No looking back,” Sara said.

“Only to the future,” Aleks added. “
Our
future.”

And with a whoop of delight they released the offending bits of paper, letting the wind and sea carry them far, far away—along with the pain and sorrow and grief that had kept them apart for so long.

Across the way, the band struck up a rousing song of victory and exuberant joy.

The trio on the yacht, the prince, his queen and the little prince, fell into a satin and tulle embrace, laughing and crying all at once.

The past was over. Let the future begin.