Searching For Her Prince Page 12

Brent crouched down beside him. “I suppose it would help if you had something to make the time go faster. How about a ride on the pontoon boat. Have you ever been fishing?”

  Jared shook his head.

  “Would you like to go?”

  The boy thought about it, then glanced at Amira. “Are you coming, too?”

  “Would you like me to come?”

  “Yeah.” Jared’s face reddened a little.

  “Then I’ll come. I’ll pack us a picnic lunch and we can eat on the boat.”

  “Cool!” Jared said with a grin.

  “If you want to go out on the boat with us tomorrow morning, then you’re going to have to get some sleep,” Brent said firmly.

  “Maybe if you have trouble falling asleep, you can count all the fish you’re going to catch,” Amira suggested.

  Jared smiled at them both. “I’ll try it. Before, I just couldn’t stop thinking about Lena…where she was…not seeing her again…”

  Brent straightened. “I know how hard it is to be patient, but you can do it.”

  When Amira rose to her feet, she saw Joanie standing in the doorway and wondered if she’d heard the whole conversation.

  After Jared had bid them good-night and went into the boys’ bedroom, Joanie looked up at Brent, her eyes wide, her long lashes giving a little flutter. “You were so good with him. I know if you hadn’t come over, we wouldn’t have gotten any sleep.”

  There was an element of truth in Joanie’s words, but Amira could see through the blatant flattery, too.

  Brent just smiled at the young teacher. It was the kind of smile that always made Amira’s heart flip, and she was envious of him bestowing it on Joanie now. “Sometimes a little understanding goes a long way. Amira helped. I’m not sure he would have gone out on the boat with me if she hadn’t agreed to come along.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you could have convinced him,” Joanie said. “I’ll bet you can be very persuasive.”

  There was an undercurrent in her words that had more to do with the vibrations between a man and woman than convincing a little boy to go fishing.

  Brent looked over at Amira. “We’d better be getting back if we’re going to get up early. I still have to fix that shutter outside your bedroom.”

  Amira thought she saw Joanie’s face light up because she’d just learned Amira and Brent weren’t sharing a bedroom—they each had their own. Did the young woman think that made Brent fair game?

  After Brent talked briefly with Marilyn, he drove Amira back to Shady Glenn. They were silent, lost in their separate thoughts. Brent let Amira out at the door and drove the car to the garage. She went straight up to her bedroom, knowing he’d meet her there to fix the shutter.

  Ten minutes later she worried about him as he leaned outside the window, a flashlight and screwdriver in hand.

  “Be careful,” she murmured, wanting to hold on to him, to make sure he didn’t lean too far.

  A short while later he pulled his head inside and shut the window. “You worry too much, Amira. I wasn’t in any danger of falling out.”

  “You never know,” she murmured.

  He came closer to her then, and they both thought about everything that had happened earlier. “Are you sure you’ll be able to get to sleep?”

  “I’m sure. I’ll probably have less trouble than Jared.”

  Brent gave her one of those smiles like he’d given Joanie. “I think he has a crush on you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not being ridiculous. You’re a beautiful, kind lady. He couldn’t help but fall for that.”

  Before she could stop herself, she said, “Joanie has a thing for you.” She didn’t exactly want to call it a crush, because if Brent felt attracted to the woman in any way, it was more than that.

  “A thing?” His grin made Amira angry.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Men,” Amira said with some disgust, turning away.

  But he wouldn’t let her escape, and he caught her arm. “Yes, I’m one of them. What makes you think Joanie has a ‘thing’ for me?”

  “I can read women. It’s in the way she looks at you, the way she flutters her lashes, the way she stands within six inches of you.”

  His smile grew wider. “And that bothers you?”

  “No.” She’d said too much already. Pulling away from him, she went over to her dresser.

  Following her, he clasped her shoulder this time, and turned her toward him. “I don’t want Joanie, Amira. I want you. More than anything I want to kiss you right now. But if I do that, we’ll wind up in that bed and I’m still not sure that’s what you want.”

  Earlier she’d been vulnerable. Earlier his comfort had slid into something else. It would have swept her away if the phone hadn’t rung. He seemed to know that and she appreciated that about him. Her admiration for him grew every day.

  “You’re an honorable man, Brent Carpenter.”

  A shadow passed over his face, and his eyes became sad. “Not as honorable as you think. I wish—” He stopped abruptly.

  “What do you wish?”

  “I wish lots of things were different.” Stepping away from her, he crossed the room to the door. “But they aren’t. If you have another bad dream, feel free to call me.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She knew she wouldn’t call for him…couldn’t call for him. If she invited him into her room again, it wouldn’t be for comfort after a bad dream. She’d only invite him into her room again if she decided to make love with him.

  “Good night, Amira,” he said gently.

  “Good night.”

  When she heard the door to his room close, she sank down onto the bed, knowing any further dreams she had tonight would be of him.

  There was a cloud cover when Amira and Brent went to fetch Jared from Reunion House the next morning. It seemed to Amira that a cloud also hung over her and Brent, and she didn’t know how to dispel it. Every time he looked at her there was something in his eyes. Sadness maybe? But as soon as she glimpsed it, it was gone and his guard was firmly back in place.

  Jared was full of excitement and energy as they walked through the backyard. A Jet Ski bobbed there from the gentle lapping water on the lake. Farther along a blue pontoon boat was moored. It had a circular front deck and high-backed, padded admiral’s chairs.

  Brent stepped onto the boat first carrying the picnic basket. Jared hopped on before Brent could give him a hand. When it was Amira’s turn to board, Brent turned to her and offered her his hand. She took it, feeling such a sense of rightness that it almost overwhelmed her. Whenever she was with Brent, she felt safe. That was so odd since she hadn’t felt safe since the night her father had died. Her life in the palace had been pleasant, full of advantages most people didn’t have. Yet remembering what had happened to her father, she had never felt safe there. When she’d traveled to Chicago alone, some of that fear had come with her. But when Brent had scooped her into his arms that first night and she lay against his chest, the sense of security had been overwhelming. She realized now that was one of the reasons she was so drawn to him. One of the reasons she’d fallen in love with him.

  As Brent helped her into the boat, his arm went around her waist, and he looked as if he was going to kiss her.

  “This is so cool,” Jared called from under the canopy where he was examining everything. His enthusiasm broke the moment, and Amira stepped away from Brent breathless, knowing this day wasn’t about the two of them. It was about keeping Jared occupied.

  The breeze ruffled Amira’s hair as she sat on one of the chairs, watching Brent teach Jared how to prepare a fishing rod. When Brent’s cell phone rang, he grinned at Amira and asked, “Hold this?”

  She took the fishing rod, glad that Brent was using corn as bait and not worms. Absently she listened while she watched Jared attach two kernels of corn to his hook.

  “The papers have to be signed today?” Brent asked. “All
right. I’ll be back at the house by five at the latest.” He glanced over at Amira. “You’ve brought Quentin up to speed as far as I’m concerned?” He listened to his secretary for a few moments, then added, “Just tell him not to forget.”

  A few moments later he attached the phone to his belt again. Meeting her gaze he explained, “One of my employees is driving up to give me papers to sign.”

  “Even when you’re on vacation you’re not really on vacation, are you?”

  He shook his head ruefully. “No.”

  “Do you have a very large staff?”

  “Large enough. They’re all very capable and do their jobs well.” Taking the rod back from Amira, he asked Jared, “Ready to see if those fish are biting?”

  The boy grinned at him, and Amira could see Jared was having a terrifically good time.

  The morning passed pleasantly and swiftly as Amira sat with Jared and Brent, watching them fish. Jared was fascinated by everything—the boat and how it ran, the fishing rod, the type of fish in the lake. The breeze tossed Amira’s hair. It was nippy with the sun still dancing behind the clouds, and she shivered.

  Brent must have noticed. He unzipped his jacket, shrugged out of it and put it around her shoulders.

  “I can’t take this. You’ll get cold.”

  He was wearing a sweatshirt with his jeans, and he shook his head. “I’m fine. My sweatshirt is heavier than your sweater.”

  Brent’s jacket carried his warmth as well as his scent. She liked being wrapped up in both.

  “If you get too cold, we’ll go back.”

  Seeing the disappointment in Jared’s eyes, she quickly shook her head. “I can always sit inside. I’m not going to spoil this fishing trip.”

  Brent’s gaze was approving as he reached over and took her hand and warmed it under his. Sitting here with him and Jared, Amira could imagine a similar day with her own children. As she thought about being pregnant with Brent’s child, a sense of pride and well-being blossomed inside of her.

  Could she give up her life in Penwyck if he asked her to? It was all she’d ever known. Still, a future with Brent was becoming her heart’s desire.

  You can’t base your future on knowing a man for only a week, her better sense told her.

  Yet she felt she knew Brent in every way that mattered.

  Nevertheless, if all Brent felt was desire, what did they have to build on?

  Throughout the morning Amira looked for signs that Brent felt more than physical attraction. She thought she saw a few. He was kind to her, cared about her comfort and seemed to enjoy being with her. But love consisted of a lot more than caring.

  It was almost four when Brent piloted the pontoon boat back to the dock and tied it down. He swung the almost-empty picnic basket as he took Amira’s hand and Jared ran ahead of them. They were about twenty yards from the house when the back door opened. A girl of about eight stepped outside. She had long brown hair tied in pigtails and a wide smile on her face.

  Jared took off with a loud whoop, and moments later he was on the porch hugging his sister.

  Tears sprang to Amira’s eyes as she and Brent stopped and watched. “I can see why you put your time and heart into Reunion House,” she murmured.

  “I remember the reunion my brother and I had after being separated for nine months. Even though I knew we’d be separated again eventually, that first moment was pure hope and happiness and everything we’d ever meant to each other.”

  Brent’s barriers were down and Amira felt honored that she could share this moment with him. He was a man who could love deeply. The question was—would he let himself love her?

  Brent must have felt the closeness between them, too, because he draped his arm around her shoulders and they walked up the path to Reunion House together.

  They only stayed at the house long enough to meet Lena and see that she and Jared, as well as the other kids, were well occupied. Cocoa seemed to be at home there already and thoroughly satisfied with her new environment.

  When Brent pulled into the drive at Shady Glenn, there was already a car there.

  “Quentin’s early,” Brent said brusquely as he unfastened his seat belt.

  After Brent came around and opened Amira’s door for her, they approached the porch. A man had been sitting in one of the cane rockers and rose to greet them. He was about five-eight, stocky, with brown hair. His suit and tie seemed out of place here.

  As Amira smiled at him, she thought he looked familiar. Had she seen him somewhere before, or did he simply look like somebody she might know?

  On the porch Brent introduced Amira to the man. “Quentin Franklin, Amira Corbin.”

  She shook his hand still trying to place him. Where had she seen Quentin Franklin before?

  Chapter Nine

  As Marcus sipped from his first cup of coffee for the day, he heard the shower running upstairs. Last evening had been one of the most frustrating of his life, but one of the most satisfying. It had been frustrating because he’d been close enough to Amira to kiss her as they’d sat on the sofa in front of the fire and played Scrabble. It had been satisfying because she was quick and bright and funny and had not only played the game, but talked and teased and laughed, too. He couldn’t remember ever being that relaxed with a woman—comfortable enough to take off his shoes and not worry about what he should say or do or be. He could just be himself.

  Only…she didn’t know who he really was.

  The phone rang and he automatically picked it up. “Hello?”

  “I’d like to speak to Amira Corbin.”

  Now Marcus checked the Caller ID and saw the international code. “I’m sorry. She’s not available right now. Can I give her a message?” he asked smoothly as if he was a clerk at a desk.

  There was silence and then he heard, “This is Queen Marissa of Penwyck.”

  This was the woman who might want to place the responsibility for a country on his head. “Hello, Queen Marissa. What would you like me to tell Miss Corbin?”

  “Do you know when she will be available?”

  All he wanted to do was get the woman off the phone. Thinking about how long it usually took Amira to dress, he answered, “She’ll be here for breakfast in about half an hour.”

  “I imagine she’s taking her early-morning jog?”

  “I don’t think she ran today, but I’m certain she’ll be here for breakfast in a half hour.”

  “All right. Please tell her to call me immediately.”

  “I’ll do that. It was an honor to speak with you, Your Majesty.”

  When Marcus hung up the receiver, he felt relieved but unsettled, too. That had been the woman who thought she might be his birth mother.

  Twenty minutes later Amira came into the kitchen looking beautifully fresh and casual in jeans and a sweater. She was wearing her new shoes and had her hair tied back in a ponytail.

  He poured a cup of coffee for her and set it on the table. “You had a phone call.”

  Amira lost her relaxed look and asked, “Who was it?”

  “It was the queen.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why didn’t you come and get me?”

  “Because you were in the shower.”

  “That doesn’t matter. If the queen wanted me—”

  He felt impatient with her and the whole impossible situation. “Don’t be ridiculous, Amira. What would you have done? Answered the phone dripping wet?”

  “Yes!”

  Immersed in the vision of her answering the phone that way, he shook his head. “I didn’t think a few minutes would make a difference. In fact, you could probably eat breakfast first and the world won’t fall apart.” He was frustrated by her royal connection, knowing what it could mean to his life. He could also feel the sand in their hourglass running out, and not seeing her again disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

  “What did she say?” Amira asked, her voice strained.

  “She said to call her immediately.”

  Amir
a went to the phone and asked coolly, “May I have a bit of privacy?”

  “Fine,” he said, exasperated with her. “I’ll be in my office.”

  As Amira blinked away tears, she was angry with Brent for dismissing the call as if Queen Marissa had been a phone solicitor. She’d seen the exasperation and frustration in his eyes and knew full well what it was from. When he’d given her a good-night kiss last night, it had been a question. She’d ended the kiss before she’d been swept away again, and he’d left her at her bedroom door, wanting him.

  Trying to push her relationship with Brent to the back of her mind, she dialed the queen’s number. Her secretary, Mrs. Ferth, answered and then she transferred the call to the queen.

  “Amira?”

  “Yes, Queen Marissa. Has something happened?”

  “Indeed it has. Prince Dylan has finally returned home. He’s been traveling through remote areas of Europe. That’s why we couldn’t reach him.”

  “But he’s home now?”

  “Yes. He made a stop in Paris and heard about the king’s health, Megan’s pregnancy and marriage, Owen’s kidnapping and return. He was very surprised his brother has a child and that Owen actually got down on his knees to ask Jordan to marry him.”

  Everyone had been surprised at that! “Had Dylan heard about Princess Anastasia’s plane crash?”

  “No, he hadn’t. But he’s pleased to see her with Jake Sanderstone. He thinks Jake can keep her in line. His words—not mine.”

  “Does he know about…?” Amira didn’t know how to put the mix-up with the royal twins delicately.

  “Does he know he might not be the true prince?” Queen Marissa formed the question for her. “Yes. I told him what Broderick says he did and how I tried to foil his machinations. But Dylan doesn’t seem too concerned. He has always felt Owen outshone him in everything and assumed his brother would eventually be named king. That’s why he took off on this trip of his in the first place. So the idea that Marcus and Shane Cordello might be the true heirs doesn’t faze him. He was more disconcerted by the possibility that King Morgan and I might not be his parents. As with Owen, I assured both of my sons that I will always be their mother no matter what DNA reveals.”