The Bachelor Prince Read online

  “You’re confused,” Hope said, holding in a smile. “The bride is hidden from her groom until the last moment, not on the first date.”

  “I know that, dear, but this is a special first date, don’t you think? We want to make an impression.”

  Since Hope was aiming for that goal herself, she allowed herself to be ushered from the room.

  The doorbell chimed and she could hear a flurry of activity taking place. What her mother and Doris’s three friends were up to now, Hope could only speculate.

  Hope heard the prince and was amazed at his patience with the older women. They engaged him in a lengthy conversation while they reviewed the itinerary they’d so carefully planned for the evening.

  “Hope,” her mother called, as if she were wondering what was taking her daughter so long.

  Hearing her cue, Hope stepped into the living room where Prince Stefano stood waiting. Once more, her attention was captured by the mere presence of the man. He seemed to fill every inch of space in the room.

  Holding her breath, Hope’s searching gaze met his.

  She wanted to impress him, wanted to be sure he didn’t regret that she’d won this night with him. But she was the one who felt as if someone had knocked her alongside of the head. Her lungs froze, and it was impossible to breathe. He was the most dynamic man she’d ever encountered.

  Hope didn’t believe in love at first sight. That was something reserved for romantics, for women with time on their hands, not hardworking coffee-shop owners.

  This whole thing with winning a date with a prince had originally amused her. She found it incredulous that a woman would actually pay for the opportunity to date any man. Personally, she couldn’t understand why someone would even want to date royalty.

  All at once the answers were crystal-clear, and she felt as if she were the most incredibly fortunate female alive. It was as though this evening would be the most important of her life. That this time, with this man, would forever change her.

  Prince Stefano’s eyes met hers and it felt as if every bit of oxygen from the vicinity had been sucked away. The prince was a man of the world, sophisticated and suave. He’d dated the most prominent, wealthy women on the continent, and yet when he gazed at her, he made her feel like a princess. His princess. She, in her borrowed dress, and rhinestone jewels.

  “Miss Jordan, your beauty takes my breath away.”

  Hope’s mother and her devoted friends each folded their hands as if they were praying and sighed audibly.

  “Thank you,” Hope murmured. It seemed such a mundane thing to say in light of the way seeing him affected her, but she suspected that her reaction wasn’t unlike a thousand others.

  “My car is waiting, if you’re ready.”

  She reached for her evening bag, a bejeweled purse that had once belonged to Hazel’s grandmother, kissed each of her fairy godmothers on the cheek and turned toward her prince.

  Prince Stefano led her to the limousine. On the walkway, Hope heard the click of cameras, although she didn’t see anyone taking pictures.

  “The press has gotten inventive over the years,” Stefano explained. “It wouldn’t surprise me to find several hiding out in the trees. The press is something I’ve learned to live with over the years. Everything I say and do appears to interest them. I apologize if they trouble you, but I have little or no control over what they print.”

  “I understand.”

  “They’re a nuisance, but unfortunately, necessary.”

  “I’m not concerned,” Hope assured him. “I deal with all kinds of people every day at my coffee shop. People are people. It doesn’t matter if they wear a camera around their neck. There’s no need to be rude or unpleasant. The press has a job to do, and so do we.”

  “A job?” He cocked one thick eyebrow in question.

  “You and I, Prince Stefano, are about to have a most enjoyable evening.”

  He smiled, and Hope had the impression it had been a good long while since he’d relaxed and enjoyed himself. A good long time since he’d last thrown back his head and laughed. Really laughed. Hope wanted to see that, if only so he’d remember her. And she definitely wanted him to fondly recall their time together.

  The chauffeur opened the door, and Hope and the prince climbed into the back seat. The first thing Hope noticed was a bottle of champagne on ice, and two crystal flutes.

  The prince’s gaze followed hers. “The champagne is compliments of Madeline Marshall.”

  “The conference organizer…How thoughtful of her.”

  “The flowers are from me,” he said, handing her a bouquet of a dozen long-stemmed red roses, tied with a white ribbon.

  Hope cradled the flowers in her arms and buried her nose in their fragrance. It was the first time a man had given her a dozen roses, and she was deeply touched. “They’re lovely.”

  “So are you.” The words were whispered and it seemed to Hope that it surprised Prince Stefano to realize he’d said them aloud.

  “From what I understand we’ll be dining at McCormick’s,” Prince Stefano said next, recovering quickly.

  “Yes. Hazel was the one who insisted we eat there. From what I understand, the food is delicious, but I think Mom and her friends were more interested in atmosphere.” The four romantics were determined to do whatever was necessary to motivate the prince to fall in love with her, as if such a thing were possible. Hope had gone along with them because…well, because she’d met the prince by that time and was already half in love with him herself.

  Once they arrived at the restaurant, the hostess greeted them warmly. Hope heard murmurs and whispers as they walked the full length of the restaurant to a private room, separated from the other diners on three sides.

  “Enjoy your dinner,’ the hostess said, handing them each oblong menus.

  Prince Stefano set his aside. “From what I understand, our dinner has all been prearranged.”

  “You mean to say Mom ordered for us, as well.”

  “So it seems.” No sooner had he spoken when a basket of warm bread was delivered to the table. The wine steward followed, bringing a bottle of chilled white wine for the prince to inspect.

  Prince Stefano read over the label and approved the choice. The steward peeled off the seal and skillfully removed the cork. He filled the two wineglasses after Prince Stefano had sampled the wine and given his consent.

  “I didn’t dare to hope such a beautiful woman would hold the winning ticket,” he said, saluting her with his glass. “To what shall we toast?”

  “Romance,” she said automatically.

  Her choice appeared to trouble him because he frowned. Recovering, he nodded once and said, “To romance.”

  They touched the rims of their glasses and then Hope brought hers back to her lips. A feeling of sadness came over her all at once. She didn’t understand how it was possible. Not when she was dining with the most eligible bachelor in the world, in an exclusive restaurant.

  The newspapers had touted how fortunate she was, how lucky to have won a date with the prince. It dawned on her then that this sadness, this melancholy feeling came from Stefano.

  She was about to ask him about it when the sound of a violin playing a hauntingly beautiful song caught her ear. A strolling musician came into view. He nodded as he played and lingered at their table. The music was poignant and bittersweet and swirled around them like an early-morning London fog.

  “That was so beautiful,” Hope whispered when the minstrel drifted away. Unexplained tears gathered at the edges of her eyes. She’d never heard the tune before, but it was compellingly sorrowful.

  “You know the song?” Prince Stefano asked.

  “No,” Hope admitted.

  “It is from my country. It’s a story of a princess who fell deeply in love with a merchant’s son. Her family has arranged for her to marry a nobleman and refuses to listen to her pleas. They forbid her to see the man she loves, insisting she follow through with the marriage contract.”
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br />   “Don’t tell me she kills herself,” Hope pleaded. “I couldn’t bear it.”

  “No,” Stefano assured her softly. “The merchant’s son knows that his love has only hurt his princess and so he leaves her, and travels to another country, never to return.”

  “What happens to the princess? Does she go through with the marriage? Oh, how could she make herself do it?”

  “No, she never marries. Against her family’s wishes she enters a convent and becomes the bride of the Church, forever treasuring the love she shared with the merchant’s son in her heart.”

  “Oh, how sad.”

  “It is said their love for each other, however brief, was enough to carry them each through the rest of their lives.”

  “I…don’t understand stories like that,” Hope said suddenly. “They’re so sad and so unnecessary. When two people love each other, truly love each other, there are no real obstacles.”

  The prince smiled sadly. “How naive you are, my beautiful Hope.”

  It seemed he was about to say something more when a plate of crab-stuffed mushrooms arrived. “I gather this is our appetizer,” Stefano said, sounding grateful for the interruption.

  They were enjoying their meal, a decadent assortment of meat and vegetables, when Hope first heard the rustle of voices outside their private room. She thought, for an instant, that she recognized her mother, but quickly discounted that. Doris had been adamant that Hope and the prince not be interrupted.

  No sooner had the memory surfaced than Hope heard a pitch like the one used by the church choir director.

  “What was that?” Prince Stefano asked.

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  Sure enough it was her darling mother and company, who’d come to serenade the happy couple with a rendition of Henry Manchini love songs.

  Hope grimaced and gritted her back teeth as they hit a discordant note in “Moon River.” Listening to them was almost painful. Hope happened to catch the prince’s eye and they both just missed breaking into hysterical laughter.

  When they’d finished the song, the prince had composed himself enough to slip out of the room and politely applaud their efforts. He personally thanked each one. Doris grinned broadly and blew Hope a kiss on her way out of the restaurant.

  “I’m so sorry,” Hope said when the prince rejoined her.

  “Your mother and her friends are…” He struggled for the right word.

  “Hopeless romantics,” Hope supplied.

  “And you, Hope Jordan? Are you a romantic, as well?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer him. Only a few days before she would have unconditionally declared herself a realist. Romance was for…those interested in such matters. She wasn’t. She hadn’t the time or the inclination.

  Until now.

  What a fool she was. If she was going to be this strongly attracted to a man, why, oh why, couldn’t it be someone other than a prince? The likelihood of her ever seeing him beyond this lone night was highly improbable. This was Prince Stefano Giorgio Paolo of San Lorenzo after all.

  They left the restaurant and discovered the limousine had been replaced by a horse-drawn carriage. Hope laughed out loud. “I swear they thought of everything,” she said, looking to Prince Stefano. “Do you mind?”

  “How could I object?” he asked.

  With her slinky style of dress, Hope found it to be something of a task to climb onto the carriage. Prince Stefano gripped her waist and hoisted her upward, until her shoe found the footing.

  His touch was gentle, and it seemed his hands lingered several seconds longer than actually necessary. Hope’s heart rate accelerated substantially as he climbed into the carriage and settled next to her, instead of across from her as she’d suspected he would.

  His arm circled her shoulders and he smiled down on her. “I think it’s only fair that we live up to your mother’s expectations for us this evening, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” she agreed.

  Seeing that they were settled, the driver urged the horse forward. The carriage wheels clanked against the cobble road that stretched along the side streets leading to Seattle’s waterfront.

  The night couldn’t have been more perfect.

  Hope thought of a hundred things she wanted to say, and didn’t voice any of them. The silence held a message of its own. For this one night, for this moment, words were unnecessary. It was as if she and the prince had known each other all their lives, as if they’d been intimate friends who knew each other’s deepest secrets.

  The prince brought her closer into his embrace and without her remembering exactly when or how, she found her head pressed against his shoulder.

  Hope had never experienced anything like this. She closed her eyes, yearning to savor each moment, knowing they must last her a lifetime.

  “How is it possible that I should find you now?” the prince breathed at the ragged end of a sigh.

  Hope didn’t understand his question and twisted her head back in order to meet his eyes. They were filled with a bitter kind of sadness, the same bittersweet melancholy she’d sensed in him earlier that evening.

  “I don’t understand,” Hope answered.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said, and breathed heavily. She brought her head back to his shoulder and felt his kiss against her crown.

  Hope held her palm against his heart and heard the strong, even beat. His hand folded over hers as they left the waterfront and headed toward the hotel where the limousine awaited them.

  Their night would soon be over, and Hope wanted it never to end.

  By the time they arrived at the hotel, a small crowd had gathered. Prince Stefano climbed down from the carriage, and then expertly aided her. The lights were bright and there seemed to be a dozen cameras trained on them.

  Whereas Prince Stefano had been tolerant and patient earlier, he was no longer. He shielded Hope as best he could from the glaring lights and hurried her toward the waiting limousine.

  The car sped away at the earliest possible moment. The driver, without her having to give him her address, drove directly to her small rental house.

  Prince Stefano reached for Hope’s hand. “I shall remember and treasure this evening always.”

  “So will I,” she told him, forcing herself to smile.

  She didn’t expect him to kiss her, but when he reached for her and brought his mouth to hers, it seemed natural and perfect.

  Over the years, Hope had been kissed many times, but no man’s touch had affected her as profoundly as the prince’s. Hope’s heart seemed to swell within her chest at the surge of emotion that overtook her.

  She parted her lips to him and groaned when he deepened the contact. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her, or her of him. By the time he broke away, they were both panting and breathless, clinging to each other as the only solid object in a world that had suddenly been knocked off its axis.

  Stefano kissed her again and again with a growing urgency and then stopped abruptly, his shoulders heaving. His hands framed her face and his large, infinitely sad eyes delved into hers.

  “I apologize.”

  “Don’t, please.” She clasped her hand around his wrist and brought his palm to her lips, kissing him there.

  “I had to be sure”

  “Sure?” she questioned.

  Stefano shook his head, and briefly closed his eyes. “Thank you for the most beautiful evening of my life.” He paused, and she watched as his facial features tightened as if he were bracing himself for something. “Please understand and forgive me when I tell you I can never see you again.”

  Chapter Four

  “ARE YOU READY?”

  Pietro’s question interrupted Stefano’s thoughts as he stood gazing out the huge picture window of the hotel suite. “Ready?” he turned and asked. He’d never felt less so.

  “You’re meeting with the Rutherfords in less than thirty minutes.”

  “Ah, yes.” Dredging up some enthusiasm for this get-tog
ether with the heiress and her family was beyond him.

  “The car is waiting.”

  Stefano turned away from the window. “Pietro, have you ever met someone…a woman, and known from the very moment your eyes met hers that you were going to love her?”

  “Your Highness,” Pietro replied with ill patience. “If you don’t leave now, you’ll be late for your appointment.”

  Frankly, Stefano couldn’t dredge up the energy to care. “Apparently you haven’t experienced this phenomenon or you wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss my question.” Reluctantly, Stefano reached for his jacket and fastened the buttons with a decided lack of haste.

  “What are the Rutherford names again?” he asked. Pietro must have told him a dozen times as it was. Stefano couldn’t explain why they slipped from his memory, and then again he could.

  Hope.

  He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her from the moment they’d parted. In the beginning, realizing how fruitless it all was, he’d resisted, but as the night wore on and morning approached, his ability to fight his feelings for her weakened considerably.

  By early afternoon, he felt as though he’d been walking around in a cloud. Certainly that was where his head was. His heart, too. Dreaming impossible dreams. Seeking what he knew could never be. And yet…and yet, he couldn’t make himself stop.

  “James and Elizabeth Rutherford,” his secretary replied.

  “Ah, yes,” Stefano said, silently repeating the two names several times over in an effort to remember them once and for all.

  “As I understand, they’re both anxious to make your acquaintance,” Pietro added, following Stefano into the next room. “Speaking of Priscilla,” he added, as though in afterthought, “have you given any consideration to your next meeting with the heiress?”

  “No,” Stefano stated honestly. “Should I?”

  “Yes.” The lone word flirted dangerously with insolence. “As I understand it, marrying her is the purpose of this entire journey,” he added.

  Stefano turned and his eyes searched those of his friend, wondering at the other man’s strange mood. “As I recall she was the bride you chose for me.”