Searching For Her Prince Page 8

  “All right. I’ll go make up your bed then.”

  “You know how to make beds?” she teased.

  “When my brother and I were kids, we had chores just like everyone else. Do you know how to make up a bed?”

  She grinned at him. “I didn’t move into the palace with my mother until I was ten. Like you, I knew the realities of running a home. Even at the palace I make up my own bed so Delia doesn’t have to.”

  “Who’s Delia?”

  She felt a bit embarrassed by admitting, “She’s sort of a valet for both me and my mother. She keeps our rooms clean, makes sure my clothes are pressed. That sort of thing.”

  “It seems you and I have a lot in common,” he said pensively as he started up the stairs.

  Brent showed Amira to a pretty room decorated in shades of aqua and yellow. The curtains were lacy as was the bedskirt. The Aubusson rug on the floor showed wear, but was still very beautiful.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  In a few minutes he brought sheets and a blanket to the room. Removing the patchwork quilt, he laid it over the cane-back rocker. Together they made the bed. When he stretched the blanket across the top sheet, his gaze caught hers. They went to smooth out a wrinkle at the same time and their fingers brushed. Backing away, Brent lifted the quilt from the rocker.

  As he tossed it across the bed, he grimaced.

  Amira warned, “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “I’m not an invalid,” he brusquely reminded her once more and tossed the pillows on top of the quilt.

  “No, you’re not. But you were hurt only three days ago, and you’re trying to act as if it didn’t happen. You can’t do that, Brent.”

  He faced her with his jaw set. “Why not?”

  “Because you need time to heal. You’re not a superhero, even though I forget that sometimes,” she added with a smile.

  His annoyance dissipated, and he slowly came around the bed and took her hands in his. “You’re very good for me, Amira. When I’m with you, I feel peaceful. I haven’t felt that way in a very long time.”

  “Do you only feel peaceful?” she asked tentatively, not knowing if she should.

  “If only you knew,” he murmured as he folded his arms around her, bringing her close to him. “In one sense I feel peaceful. In another…”

  He let his words trail off as he lowered his head and covered her lips with his. She knew in every kiss he was acknowledging how innocent she was, how inexperienced. He seemed to use that to awaken the fire in her, to awaken passions she never knew she’d feel. His tongue taunted her upper lip, and she tightened her arms around him. Then he angled his head so he could take the kiss deeper, and she moaned softly, feeling prickles of fire in every part of her, longing for satisfaction she’d never known. The pure sensuality of his hands passing up and down her back, his scent, his slow, enticing ravishment of her mouth weakened her knees and made her feel as if she were drowning in Brent.

  Suddenly he stopped all of it and lifted his head. “I don’t know what this week’s going to bring, but I do know I won’t take advantage of you. I want you to realize what you’re doing every step of the way. Since we don’t even know if you’re going to stay, I think I’d better go to my room.”

  She admired so much about Brent Carpenter—his honesty, his sincerity, his kindness. He was real yet noble, as noble as the soldiers who protected the king, as noble as the military who fought to keep Penwyck free.

  Should she stay here alone with him or shouldn’t she? If she did, she knew what might happen. She welcomed the thought of truly loving Brent, yet she didn’t know much about him. What if he often picked up women and brought them home? What if she wasn’t special to him? What if she gave her heart and he kept protecting his?

  “Have you ever been seriously involved in a relationship?” she asked him.

  Stepping away from her, his face changed, and she could no longer see the desire in his eyes. She could see nothing there now and that scared her.

  “Yes, I’ve been seriously involved. But I don’t want to discuss it, Amira. It has nothing to do with you and me being here now.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” she protested. “Whatever happened in your past shaped who you are, just as mine shaped me. While we’re here, I’d like to get to know you better. Isn’t that why you asked me along?”

  His response was quickly emphatic. “No. I asked you along so we could enjoy each other’s company, go out on the lake, appreciate the children.”

  “And?” she prompted, knowing what else was on his mind because it was on hers.

  “And…maybe do whatever comes naturally to a man and a woman.”

  Suddenly she had to know the truth. “Did you bring me here to seduce me?” she asked bluntly.

  At first she saw anger flash in his eyes, but it disappeared and all that was left was exasperation. “Where is this coming from?” he asked. “I told you I won’t take advantage of you. If and when we have sex, we’ll both want it. Seduction isn’t part of that.”

  “I see,” she said softly, more confused than ever. He wouldn’t seduce her, but he wanted to have sex with her. He wanted her company, but he didn’t want to go any deeper than surface chatter.

  Cocoa ran up the steps then and into Amira’s room.

  “I’d better take her out for a walk,” Brent said gruffly. “Feel free to turn in. I’ll keep her with me.”

  There had been a wall around Brent before, but it had cracked here and there and she’d seen glimpses into his soul. Now it seemed he’d patched up all the cracks and she couldn’t see into him at all. Maybe she should leave in the morning…or maybe she should work at tearing that wall down.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, then,” she murmured.

  “In the morning.”

  When he left her room, he shut the door. She felt he’d also shut it on the feelings that were growing between them because maybe they were just too uncomfortable for him to handle.

  Chapter Six

  When Amira came downstairs the following morning, Brent was already sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in front of him, Cocoa at his feet. “Instant,” he said, grimacing. “If we want breakfast, we’ll have to buy groceries. I waited in case you’d like to come along.”

  Cocoa ran to Amira, and she bent down to pet her. “Where do we have to go?”

  “About two miles up the road there’s a general store. They sell a little bit of everything. You might enjoy the uniqueness of it. Even if you decide to go back to the city, you need to eat before you go.”

  She latched on to the practicality of that. “I’d like to see your general store.”

  Standing, he took his cup over to the sink and dumped the coffee down the drain. “Nice outfit,” he said with a nod and a hint of a smile.

  Because she wasn’t used to wearing the type of clothes she’d put on, she felt a bit self-conscious. The royal-blue leggings hugged her body from her waist to her ankles. Her cashmere sweater was the same color blue, short, only coming to her waist. It swung a little when she walked. According to the salesclerk, the black, tie-shoes on her feet were all the rage. They felt a bit clompy to her, but fashion was fashion.

  “It feels a little bit odd,” she admitted.

  “What do you wear when you attend classes?”

  “Slacks and sweaters. Nothing like this. It would raise more than a few eyebrows.”

  “Do you have men in those classes?”

  “Sure we do.”

  “Then it would raise a few temperatures, too.”

  She knew she was blushing and couldn’t help it. “Are we taking Cocoa?” she asked, changing the subject because it reminded her too much of what they’d said to each other last night.

  “We’d better leave her here. They might not let her inside. She’ll be fine. I’ll go get the car. Just turn the button on the knob and the door will lock when you shut it.”

  After Amira found her sweater in the
living room, she said goodbye to Cocoa, then locked the door and waited for Brent. They rode to the general store in silence. She felt a tension between them this morning—a different kind of tension than the one that had hung between them since they’d met. It had to do with her decision to stay or go, with her question last night about Brent’s serious relationship. He obviously didn’t want to reveal anything about his personal life. If she stayed, maybe she’d figure out why.

  The general store was a clapboard building situated next to a gas station. Four concrete steps led to the wooden screen door. The inside door was open even though the temperature outside was cool.

  Brent went in first and took a quick look around. When he saw the salesclerk, he seemed to relax. He picked up the top plastic basket from a stack inside the door. “What would you like for breakfast?” he asked her.

  “Can we make pancakes with blueberries?”

  “We can if there are blueberries in that case over there.” He pointed to the refrigerated section.

  She went to the case and peeked inside like a kid in a candy store, not knowing whether to pick up the blueberries in the box or the ones in the bag.

  “I don’t do much grocery shopping,” she admitted as he came over to join her.

  “I don’t, either. We make a good pair. We’re both out of touch with the real world.”

  Slanting him a glance, she saw he was serious. “Coming to the United States has given me a whole new perspective on a lot of things.”

  “Like?” he asked.

  “How sheltered palace life is, how much of the world I haven’t seen, how much freedom I’ve never really had…how very protected I’ve been. This trip, succeeding in meeting Marcus Cordello…it’s like a rite of passage for me.”

  A shadow seemed to cross Brent’s face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I’m hungry, that’s all. I’ll pick up a few provisions, then we can go stir up those pancakes.”

  When they returned to Shady Glenn, Marcus grabbed both bags of groceries and wouldn’t let Amira help carry them. Their conversation about the real world had troubled him, reminding him of Rhonda and the life he’d led with her. She had been hip and sassy, lighthearted and fun. It had been convenient for them to be together, convenient for them to care about each other, convenient to think about a future. She’d loved everything his money could buy her, and he’d loved giving her presents and a taste of his world.

  What he regretted was not giving her enough of himself. If he had, she would have told him she had diabetes. She wouldn’t have hidden the fact that she had to give herself insulin twice a day. If he’d known about her condition, he would have watched her more carefully.

  Everything he was feeling about Amira was bringing back all of the old baggage he’d fought to leave behind.

  Amira’s questions last night had made him defensive, and he’d handled all of it badly. He’d had to ask himself honestly—had he brought her here to seduce her? The answer to that was yes, so he knew he had to back off, treat her like a friend and answer some of her questions. That’s the conclusion he’d come to in the middle of the night.

  Cocoa greeted them both as if she hadn’t seen them for years.

  Afterward Brent found a griddle in one of the cupboards and then started coffee brewing. Silently Amira took a large bowl from a cabinet and began to mix the pancake batter.

  Once he’d poured the water into the coffeemaker, he leaned against the counter, deciding to take the bull by the horns. “You asked me last night if I’d ever had a serious relationship.”

  She stopped stirring.

  “When I was twenty-one I was engaged. Her name was Rhonda.”

  Amira lifted her eyes to his. “What happened?”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he began, “I wish I could tell you we had an argument and went our separate ways. That would have been easier than what happened.” He thought about his life a few years ago. “I met Rhonda at a party. I went to a lot of them back then. I was a bachelor looking for a good time, earning a master’s degree in finance. Rhonda was in an undergraduate program in the same field so we had a lot to talk about. She was one of those women who never ran out of things to say or suggestions for fun things to do. We had a fast life. I worked at my business during the day, earned my master’s at night. She was in her senior year, determined to become an investment banker.”

  “It sounds as if the two of you fitted together well,” Amira said quietly.

  “I thought we did. But she didn’t tell me something very important about herself, and I still can’t decide if that was my fault or hers. She had diabetes and she wasn’t taking good care of herself. I didn’t know that. I thought she was losing weight because she wanted to be model thin. I didn’t realize she sometimes skipped her insulin or didn’t eat when she should have. And when I found out, it was too late.”

  “She became ill?”

  He pushed away from the counter and jammed his hands into his pockets. “She passed out in class one day and slipped into a coma. I sat by her bed with her parents for two days, praying and hoping. But her kidneys failed and she died.”

  “Oh, Brent.”

  “I felt responsible, Amira. Why wasn’t I the type of man she could confide in? Why hadn’t I seen what was happening to her? Why hadn’t I questioned her more thoroughly about the weight loss? Why didn’t I see something was wrong with her?”

  Amira took a few steps closer to him. “Did you ever consider that maybe she didn’t want you to see?”

  “Why not?”

  Her violet eyes were wide and steady and compassionate. “For the same reason that you wouldn’t admit your shoulder hurt. Why did you have to carry both grocery bags in here today? Why couldn’t you let me bring one of them in?”

  “I didn’t want you to think—”

  “That you weren’t strong? That you were taking too long to heal? That I’d think less of you if I had to help?”

  He’d never talked about this with anyone. His dad and Shane knew what had happened, of course, but he’d never discussed it with them. He’d never told them how devastated he’d felt or how guilty. Now Amira was making him take another look at all of it. “Women don’t have an image or ego to protect,” he protested.

  “Don’t they? Oh, Brent. She probably wanted to keep up with you in every way. She wanted to look good for you. She wanted to be what you wanted her to be.”

  “Then it was my fault.”

  Shaking her head emphatically, Amira protested, “No, it wasn’t your fault. Even in Penwyck, girls see magazines, read articles about what men supposedly want. They make themselves into a package. It’s only when a woman really trusts a man, deep in her soul, that she can leave off the makeup, dress in sweats and not brush her hair.”

  If only he could believe that. If only…“We dated for a year. We were going to get married. She should have trusted me.”

  “Did you trust her?”

  He thought about that. He’d been building his empire, wheeling and dealing. He and Rhonda had talked about finance, but he’d never told her details of his work. He’d never given her specific names of companies he was working with or thinking about buying. Was that because he thought she might use the information to further her own future? To get herself a better job?

  On a deeper level, he had never told her what it had been like to be separated from Shane when they were kids. Yet he’d already told Amira how difficult that had been. He could see himself sitting down with Amira, explaining a merger he wanted to accomplish and letting her bat ideas back to him. And now this conversation they were having…

  “I guess I didn’t trust her any more than she trusted me. I don’t know why. I never told her about Mother and Dad’s fights. Or the affair Dad had that broke up my parents’ marriage.”

  “Maybe you both were trying to be what you thought the other person wanted.”

  “This is heavy stuff before breakfast,” he said gruffly,
and went over to the window to look out at the backyard where a wooden swing hung from the tall oak. That swing had been there since he was a child.

  Following him to the window, Amira stood very close, her elbow brushing his. “What do you see out there?” she asked, seemingly out of the blue.

  “I see—” He stopped before he said Shane’s name. “I see my brother and me climbing the tree, shimmying to the top branches. I can hear our mother telling us we were going to break our necks, and see Dad putting up a ladder against the tree just to be on the safe side.” He pointed to a patch of land in the rear corner. “See that area that looks like it’s overgrown with vines?”

  Amira nodded.

  “Every June my mom and my brother and I would pick strawberries. When Dad came from the city on weekends, we’d make ice cream on the front porch and put the strawberries over it. I guess it’s silly now to think about that, but I do often.”

  “That’s because you were happy then.”

  Turning away from the window, he left the past and found the present. “I haven’t been happy for a long time. I’ve been busy—not happy.”

  “And you haven’t been involved with anyone since Rhonda?”

  “No. After she died, I decided personal relationships carried too high a price. Being responsible for another person’s life and happiness is just too great a burden.” He still believed that even now. That’s why he’d wanted Amira to come and spend this week with him. He wanted to be happy without the responsibility of thinking about the future…because there could be no future between the two of them.

  After she studied his face, she quietly said, “I know loving can sometimes be a burden. But when I hear my mother talk about my father, I know she would have given up anything for that love. Seeing her with Harrison now, I can tell she’s found love all over again and the two of them complete each other’s lives.”

  Brent shook his head. “I only see heartache when two people connect. My family broke up because my father turned to another woman and my mother found out. Because they couldn’t repair their marriage, they separated me from my brother. Rhonda and I cared for each other, but apparently not deeply enough.”