The Bachelor Prince Read online

  “No.” He raised his eyebrows dubiously. “How can that be?”

  “Look at the ridges. In order to reach one mountain, you must climb a number of others. Several planes have crashed in the region, but there’s no hope of ever recovering the bodies.”

  “How tragic. They are beautiful, these mountains of yours.”

  Hope smiled. “I don’t exactly own them, but thank you anyway.”

  “You love your state?”

  “Very much. Washington is quite diversified, you know. We’re standing in a rain forest and in less than three hundred miles there’s desert. In some areas in the eastern half of the state, the growing season is only two weeks too short for cotton.”

  Once more Stefano’s eyebrows shifted upward. “This state of yours is amazing.” His arm circled her waist. “You’re amazing.”

  Hope smiled up at him. He hadn’t wore a disguise this afternoon, at least none that required a wig. He came as himself, wearing jeans, a Western-style shirt and snakeskin cowboy boots. He looked more like a country-western star than a European prince.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Famished.”

  She led him outside the Visitor Center. Her car was parked across the road. “There’s a picnic area this way,” she said, unlocking the trunk of her red Saturn.

  Stefano lifted out the wicker basket and she reached for the Scottish plaid blanket. A rainbow of colorful wildflowers brightened the slopes. They trudged uphill for several moments until they found an appropriate site for their lunch. They chose a spot that offered a maximum of privacy beneath a forest of tall conifer trees.

  Spreading the blanket out beneath the shelter of a Douglas fir, Hope and Stefano sat down. The area was sunny and warm and Hope welcomed the shade.

  “What have you packed?” Stefano asked, kneeling down next to her on the blanket. He opened the basket and smiled when he viewed the contents.

  “What’s this?”

  “Blueberry pie, fresh from the oven,” she explained proudly. Now wasn’t the time to let him know Lindy was the one responsible for this delectable delight.

  “Ah, yes, American fruit pie,” Stefano said. “I tasted it once in New York.”

  “You mean to say you don’t have pies in San Lorenzo?”

  “Not the way you do in America. You must remember fruit pies are a product of your country.”

  “But what about France? They’re known all over the world for their pastries.”

  “Tarts, yes, but not pie. Generally our pies are filled with meat,” he explained matter-of-factly.

  Hope digested this latest bit of information. “There are more differences between our two countries than I realized.”

  “Many, many differences.” A note of sadness entered his voice and Hope knew he was thinking about his duty to his country to marry a woman he didn’t love. A woman who would save his tiny country from financial ruin.

  “And what are these?” Stefano brought out the thick submarine sandwiches she’d built.

  Smiling, she explained the history of the oblong sandwiches. They ate then, companionably. The sun wove its way through the limbs of the Douglas fir, leaving a lacework pattern that slowly traveled over them as it crossed the brilliant, blue sky.

  Afterward they went on a short hike and Hope pointed out a number of different ferns. Stefano listened politely while she spread out the leaf of a sword fern, then a bracken fern and then that of the evergreen. She found herself chatting as if it were important to relay as much information about indigenous plants as possible. If she could fill the silence with words, then she wouldn’t need to think about the future and how empty it would seem without him.

  “Hope?”

  She closed her eyes, and he pulled her softly into his arms. There was no need for words, no need to speak what was on both of their minds.

  “I knew this wouldn’t work,” she whispered against his shoulder. She clung to him for fear that once he released her, her arms would feel forever empty.

  “I thought if I kept you to myself for two more days I would have the strength to leave you. Now I wonder.” His arms tightened about her. “I have no choice, my love. The fate of my country rests on my bride.”

  “I know. I know.” Hope did, but that didn’t make it any easier, loving him like this. In thinking over Stefano’s plight, she’d attempted to come up with a solution that would allow them to stay together. But she could see no way out for them.

  “Come,” Stefano said with some effort. “Let’s not think about the future. We’re together now and that’s all that matters.”

  Hope struggled to hold back the tears.

  They made their way back to the picnic area. An eagle soared overhead and Hope pointed out the magnificent bird with its huge wingspan. They stood watching the eagle making a sweeping tum over the horizon. Stefano was enthralled by the grandeur of the bird that had come to represent the United States.

  Sitting back down on the blanket, Hope lowered her head, fighting back the emotion. To her surprise Stefano wandered away. He stood no more than a few feet from her, but it felt as though the Grand Canyon divided them. As she watched, it seemed his shoulders slouched forward as if the weight of his burden had increased a hundredfold.

  Hope did the best she could to compose herself, and once she was relatively sure she could speak without tears leaking into her voice, she stood and moved to his side.

  For a long time neither of them spoke.

  “I need your forgiveness, Hope,” he whispered.

  “My forgiveness?”

  “For being so selfish. To want you so badly, to hold on to you these few days, when my presence brings you pain.”

  “It brings me joy, too.”

  “I’ve been unfair to you. I see that now. It is better for us both if I left Seattle.”

  “No.” Her cry of protest came automatically. “Not yet.”

  “It’s impossible for us. Being with you makes it even more impossible. I’ve done you a grave injustice and Priscilla, too. While it’s true I must marry an heiress, I don’t love her…”

  “It would hurt her if she ever found out about me,” Hope finished for him.

  “Yes.” The lone word was barely above a whisper.

  “Then she must never know.” Her words were stronger and braver than her heart. She wasn’t intentionally sparing the heiress who would marry Stefano. She did it for the prince. Her prince.

  “You understand why this must be the last time we meet?”

  “Yes,” she returned in a broken whisper.

  “But we have today,” he returned, gripping hold of her hand. He gestured toward the sky. “The next time you see an eagle, remember me…and that I will always love you. Hold that knowledge in your heart forever.” He turned to her and cupped her face between his hands. For a long moment, he gazed into her eyes, his expression deep and troubled. “In time I fear you’ll grow to hate me…that you will think me a coward,” he murmured.

  “I won’t…I couldn’t.”

  Briefly he closed his eyes, and shook his head. “When that happens I want you to know that leaving you has been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. Please remember that, Hope, above all else. You own my heart, and always will.” He paused and then gently kissed her. “As the years pass, if there’s ever a time you should need me, ever a time you’re in trouble—”

  “No,” she said, cutting him off. “It has to be over here and now, Stefano. Promise me you won’t come back into my life. You mustn’t,” she insisted, before he could protest, “otherwise I’ll find myself waiting for you, for the opportunity for you to return. Promise me that after today I’ll never see or hear from you again.”

  It looked as if he couldn’t make himself do it.

  “Above all else, I know you to be an honorable man. If you give me your word never to see or contact me again, then I’m free to do as you ask and treasure the days we shared. Free to take our time together and place it in the mos
t tender part of my heart, and cherish it. I’ll be free to go on with my life.”

  She watched as his Adam’s apple worked in his throat. “I give you my word,” he whispered. “You will never see or hear from me again after this afternoon.”

  Hope looked away for fear he would see the tears glistening in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Priscilla knew she’d shocked Pietro by tossing her arms around him and kissing him. But she’d intended to catch him off guard. That had been part of her plan.

  At first, he attempted to gently push her away, but she resisted and clung to him.

  Then her hat fell on the floor and his hands were in her hair and he was slanting his mouth over hers. This must what it would be like in heaven, Priscilla mused with a deep sigh of pleasure.

  Pietro kissed her again and she gloried in his lack of control. It had happened just the way she’d planned. Once she was in his arms, he wouldn’t be able to deny his feelings, wouldn’t be able to brush her off with lies. He wouldn’t be able to pretend.

  “Oh, Pietro,” she whispered, “don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”

  He stopped.

  Priscilla sighed with disappointment and frustration.

  They were both breathing hard, and it seemed to require several moments for Pietro to compose himself. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he said, his words taut with tension.

  “I kissed you, remember? You did nothing improper.”

  “I kissed you back.” He made it sound as if he should be dragged before a firing squad.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I encouraged you. Î wanted you to kiss me. You might think I’m being fanciful, but I knew right away that you were going to be someone special in my life.”

  His face tensed as if he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. “Priscilla…”

  “You called me your love once. Remember?”

  His eyes narrowed as if to say he’d give anything never to have uttered those words. “You don’t understand about such things,” he said stiffly.

  “I understand everything I need to,” she returned with a righteous tilt of her chin. “All my life everyone else—my parents, my teachers, everyone—have seemed to think they know what’s best for me. And I listened. Well, no more!” She braced her hands against her hips.

  “Perhaps you should discuss this with them.”

  “I’m going to discuss it with you.”

  “Priscilla…”

  “Hear me out, please,” she said, and as an inducement, she stood on the tips of her toes and gently brushed her lips over his. “I know now that you were lying when you said you weren’t attracted to me. I’m not sure why you’d hide the truth, but that doesn’t matter any longer, because I know everything now.”

  “About what?” Pietro challenged.

  “Your feelings for me.”

  A sad, intense look came over him. “I find you to be an attractive, generous young woman.”

  “Do you often kiss attractive, generous young women the way you do me?” she challenged. She knew he didn’t.

  “No,” he admitted reluctantly, “but then it isn’t often that one throws herself into my arms.”

  Although he spoke without criticism, Priscilla could feel her cheeks filling with color. “What about the time before that?” she asked. “The night of the banquet. As I recall you were the one who kissed me.”

  “Yes, that’s true but…”

  Again she sensed his reluctance, his hesitation. “But what?” she prodded.

  “I’m afraid I’ve given you the wrong impression,” he murmured. “That was the night you were feeling ill and I was attempting to comfort you.”

  Priscilla wasn’t about to accept that excuse, either. She laughed softly and shook her head. “You’re going to have to come up with a better excuse than that. I may not be as worldly and sophisticated as some women, but I know the kisses we shared were far more potent than a couple of aspirin.”

  As if he needed to put some distance between them, Pietro returned to his desk. Priscilla claimed the chair on the other side. He reached for a pen and rolled it between his palms.

  “Hurting your feelings would greatly distress me, but I don’t feel I have much—”

  “Then don’t.” Priscilla felt on a natural high from his kisses. Little he could say or do would discourage her now that she’d discovered the truth.

  “Priscilla, you’re making this difficult.”

  “That’s the reason I’m here.” She beamed him a wide smile. He hesitated and looked almost grateful when the phone rang.

  “If you’ll excuse me a moment.”

  “Of course. Do you want me to leave?” she asked, thinking he might prefer privacy.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said, reaching for the telephone.

  From her position on the other side of the table, Priscilla knew the call must be important from the way Pietro straightened his shoulders. He reached for the appointment book and flipped through the pages.

  From the gist of the conversation, Priscilla could tell that he was scheduling a meeting for Prince Stefano. She couldn’t be sure who was on the other end of the line, but it seemed to be some United States government official.

  Pietro’s look was thoughtful when he replaced the receiver. His gaze lingered there for a moment before lifting and meeting hers.

  “Now where were we?”

  “We were discussing us,” she said brightly.

  His frowned deepened. “I didn’t know there was an us.”

  “All right, I’ll rephrase that. We were discussing our feelings for each other.”

  “I thought I’d already explained that I find you to be an attractive, likable young woman, but that I don’t have any strong feelings for you one way or the other.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  He gestured weakly with his hands. “I realize that I might have given you some cause to think I was romantically interested in you. If that’s the case, I apologize. You’re a beautiful woman and I wanted to kiss you. A kiss is a little thing, don’t you think?”

  Priscilla blinked, her confidence shaken. “Yes, but there was a whole lot of emotion in those kisses…for me, at any rate.”

  “I’m honored beyond words that you find me attractive.”

  Find him attractive? The man didn’t seem to have a clue that she was crazy in love with him. Perhaps he did, she decided, and he wanted to extract himself from the relationship as gracefully as he could.

  “But,” she said it for him, rather than wait.

  “But you’re young and impressionable, and I fear you’ve placed far more credence on the few times we kissed than is warranted. I don’t mean to hurt you, but it would be cruel to continue in this vein.”

  From force of habit, she gnawed on her lower lip. “I apologize for causing you this embarrassment,” she said, her pride giving her the strength she needed.

  “It’s not that,” he said gently. “I’m honored that anyone as lovely as you would have these feelings for me.

  “Yeah, right,” she murmured and stood, eager now to make her escape. She turned and paused at the door. “I have an appointment with the prince tomorrow.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “I’d appreciate it if I could be alone with him.” In other words, she didn’t want to see Pietro again.

  “I’ll see to it.”

  Her hand tightened around the doorknob and gathering her resolve, she pivoted around to face him. Their gazes met and held as if in a great unspoken battle of wills.

  “Before I leave, I want you to know something.”

  Her voice trembled a bit and she paused until she could be certain it would stay even and unemotional. “You’re lying and I know it. I’m not exactly sure why you’re sending me away. Actually it doesn’t matter. I’ll walk out this door and we’ll probably never see each other again. You’ve made it clear that’s the way you want it, and I have no choice but to accept your wishes.
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  “You almost convinced me you don’t love me,” she continued and her voice wavered slightly, “but you didn’t convince my heart.”

  She had to leave soon. “Good-bye, Pietro,” she whispered, and with nothing more to say, calmly left. The door softly clicked closed behind her.

  Stefano returned to the hotel emotionally depleted. He met Pietro in the hallway outside his private quarters and their eyes clashed.

  Instead of retreating to his own quarters, Stefano moved into the larger room where he’d shared tea with Priscilla Rutherford. Pietro followed.

  For a long time neither spoke.

  Stefano wasn’t prepared for the litany of irate questions regarding his whereabouts. Not this time. He felt as if he’d been wrenched apart and was in no mood for an interrogation. Gratefαîly Pictro appeared to understand this.

  “I see you’re back.” Pietro spoke first. “Will you be leaving again anytime soon?”

  “No.” Pain tightened the area around his heart. “I’d like for you to arrange our departure as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if we can be accommodated.” If anything, this should please Pietro, who’d been eager to return to San Lorenzo for the past several days.

  “You have two appointments in the morning,” his secretary informed him. “The first is with Priscilla Rutherford.”

  “Priscilla?”

  “Yes, she stopped by this afternoon to schedule the meeting.”

  “But I saw her earlier in the day. She didn’t mention anything then.”

  “I was curious myself, but she gave no indication of what she wanted to discuss, although she made it clear she preferred that the two of you speak in private.”

  This piqued Stefano’s interest. “In private?”

  Pietro nodded. “The second appointment is with a representative from the American State Department. The call came in this afternoon and he requested an audience. He said it was essential that he speak to you at your earliest convenience.”

  “Regarding?”

  “Again there was no indication.”

  “I see.” Stefano was curious, but with other matters on his mind—mainly Hope—he didn’t give the appointment much deliberation. Soon he’d be back in San Lorenzo. There he would find peace. There he would have less difficulty accepting his duty. There he’d be surrounded by all that would remind him of his responsibilities to his country and his people.