The Bachelor Prince Page 7

  But that was impossible. He’d said so himself.

  “It wasn’t just your mother and her friends, either,” Lindy continued. “You put a good deal of effort into the evening yourself. Aren’t you the least bit upset?”

  “The ticket entitled the lucky winner to one date with Prince Stefano. Nothing less and nothing more. I had my one date, and it was the most beautiful night of my life. Demanding more would be greedy.”

  “Is he everything the tabloids claim he is?”

  Hope had read the articles herself. Prince Stefano was touted as being suave, gracious and gorgeous.

  “He’s much more.” Hope couldn’t make herself regret a single minute of her time with the prince. The memory of their one night together would last her a lifetime. Someday she would hold her grandchildren on her knee and tell them the story of her one magical date with a fairy-tale prince from a kingdom far away. What she would hold a secret for the rest of her life was how the prince had managed to steal her heart away.

  “How’s your mother taking the news you won’t be seeing Prince Stefano again?”

  Hope closed her eyes, knowing this would be difficult. “She doesn’t know yet.” Her mother and company had waited up half the night for a report. The four were so exhausted from all the planning and arranging that Hope could only guess that they were still asleep.

  “Mom will understand,” Hope said, and knew she was being unrealistically optimistic.

  “When is Prince Stefano leaving Seattle?” Lindy asked next.

  “I don’t know. Soon, I suspect.” But not too soon, her heart pleaded.

  “What are you doing this evening?” Lindy asked, between bites. She dunked her doughnut into her coffee and then carried it to her mouth, leaving a trail of coffee en route. “I don’t know why I’m eating this. I think it’s because I’m so jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  “You and Prince Stefano.”

  “Your prince will come,” Hope assured her.

  “Only mine will be disguised as a frog. Life isn’t fair. I would have given my eyeteeth to have bought the winning ticket, and you didn’t even care. Maybe that’s my problem. I’ve got to stop caring.”

  Hope realized her friend was only half-serious. She saw the irony of the situation herself. Winning the date with Prince Stefano had been a fluke, but even so, it had forever marked her life. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d been destined to meet, destined to fall in love and destined to never have more than a single night together.

  “I’m going to read a romance novel,” Hope announced with a good deal of ceremony. “You asked me what I planned to do this evening, and that’s it.” True, it was something of a comedown after the romantic night she’d spent with the prince. But it was a way of holding on to the memories of what she’d so recently experienced.

  “At last,” Lindy cried triumphantly. “To think it took a date with a prince to get you interested.”

  They talked for several minutes more and then the phone rang. The two women looked at each other and both knew it had to be Doris.

  “At least she waited until the runners were gone this time,” Lindy said, as Hope reached for the receiver.

  Although her mother had heard nearly every detail of Hope’s evening with the prince the night before, Hope was forced to repeat them. Naturally, there were a number of places where she skipped the more private details.

  “It’s all so romantic,” Doris whispered.

  “Yes, Mother, it was.”

  “You like him, don’t you, Hope?”

  It took Hope a moment to answer, as if she were admitting to a wrong. “Yes, Mom, I do, but then I don’t know anyone who could possibly dislike him. Stefano is a…prince.”

  Satisfied, her mother sighed.

  It had taken nearly twenty minutes for Hope to extract herself from the conversation, and afterward, she found an excuse to work in the kitchen. Her thoughts and her heart were heavy.

  No matter how hard she focused on the positive, it felt as if there were a giant hole inside her. It would take a very long time to fill. A very long time to forget. That was what made it all so difficult because she wanted to remember, but remembering produced pain.

  She was standing in front of the automatic dishwasher, loading cups onto the tray before sliding it inside the washer for sterilization, when Lindy joined her.

  “There’s a man out front who wants to talk to you.”

  “I’m not in the mood to deal with any salesman. Talk to him for me, would you?”

  “Nope.” Lindy was wearing that Cheshire cat look of hers, grinning from ear to ear. “This person insists on speaking to you himself.”

  “I’m busy.” Stopping the washer now was a hassle she wanted to avoid. It was bad enough to be indulging in this pity party without having to deal with some slick salesman who was keen on selling her coffee filters.

  “Are you coming or not?” Lindy demanded.

  “Not. If someone finds it so all important to speak to me, right this instant, when I’m in the middle of this mess, then you can tell them to come back here.”

  Lindy frowned, and then shook her head. “I don’t think that’s wise, my friend.” There was a singsong quality to her voice as if she were just barely able to keep herself from breaking into peals of laughter.

  “Being prudent has never been my trademark,” Hope muttered.

  “Do you want me to get his business card for you?”

  Grumbling under her breath, Hope nodded. “If you insist.”

  “Oh, I most certainly do.”

  Lindy disappeared around the kitchen door and despite her melancholy mood, Hope’s gaze followed her. From the way her friend was acting, one would think…Her thoughts came to a slow, grinding halt. Prince Stefano. Was it possible?

  No. It couldn’t be. Stefano had told her himself anything between them was futile. She’d viewed his regret, experienced her own.

  Slowly, removing one yellow rubber glove at a time, she walked out from the kitchen, her eyes trained on the front of the coffee shop.

  Her breath caught when she saw the Prince, standing as stiff as a marble statue just inside the door.

  Chapter Five

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” The question was barely above a whisper. Hope was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but gaze upon the prince in all his glory. He was even more devastatingly handsome and debonair than she remembered. Regal and noble all the way to his toes.

  Prince Stefano smiled demurely and moved toward the counter. “I had an urge to sample your coffee,” he said as he slipped onto a stool.

  She didn’t believe him for a moment, but had no choice but to pretend otherwise. “Would you like a latte?” It was difficult to keep the trembling out of her voice.

  “That’s the drink that’s so popular in Seattle?”

  Hope nodded. They’d briefly discussed her business, but she’d assumed his questions had only been polite inquiries. She hadn’t realized he’d been paying such close attention.

  Hope felt the sharp point of her friend’s elbow in her ribs and assumed Lindy was waiting for an introduction. Hope didn’t have the heart to tell her friend that she was meeting royalty with powdered sugar coating her lips.

  “It sounds very much like café au lait.”

  “They’re similar,” Hope said and, looking to Lindy with her white lips, swallowed a smile. “This is Lindy Powell. She does all the baking.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “I’ll get you one of my muffins,” Lindy offered. “It’s on the house.”

  The minute her friend was out of earshot, Hope leaned close to the counter. “I thought you said…”

  His hand covered hers. “I know.” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again she saw a flicker of pain move in and out of his expression. “I came because I couldn’t stay away. Last night…I couldn’t sleep for thinking of you. I shouldn’t be here. I’m afraid my selfishness will only hu
rt you.”

  “Having you stay away hurts me more,” she whispered.

  His hand tightened over hers. “Did you sleep?”

  “No,” she admitted reluctantly.

  Her answer appeared to please him, because he broke into a wide grin. “Then you felt it, too?”

  She nodded, unable to lie.

  The door to the shop opened and Hope glanced up to find the windows crowded with several curious faces. Apparently the throng was hoping to catch a glimpse of Prince Stefano. Looking flustered, his bodyguard stepped inside the shop, safeguarding the door against intruders.

  “We must leave, Your Highness,” the beefy man said, looking concerned.

  Stefano’s mouth thinned, and he reluctantly nodded.

  “So soon?” If anything was cruel, it would be Stefano reentering her life so briefly. All that held back the urge to beg him to stay was her pride.

  “Meet me tonight,” he whispered. “On the waterfront, inside the ferry terminal. You will be safe there?”

  “Yes. But what time?”

  “Ten…perhaps ten-thirty. I will come as soon as it is possible for me to get away.”

  Once more Hope’s gaze was drawn to the growing multitude of onlookers, pressing against her shop window. She doubted that they’d have a moment’s peace that evening once the prince was recognized.

  “You’ll be there?”

  The wisdom of it was doubtful. She was setting herself up for a fall, but even knowing that, Hope found, she couldn’t refuse. “I’ll be there,” she promised.

  He smiled then and it seemed the whole room brightened. He reached for her hand and gently kissed it, then abruptly turned away. The prince’s bodyguard opened the door and with the aid of two footmen cleared a path to the waiting limousine. A commotion broke out once the prince appeared, and Hope heard several requests for autographs.

  Within seconds Stefano was gone.

  “He didn’t wait for his muffin,” Lindy complained, wandering to Hope’s side.

  “I know.” Both of them stood immobilized, staring out the window as if they expected him to magically reappear. In a way that was exactly what Hope prayed would happen.

  From the way Priscilla’s family had reacted to the prince’s dinner invitation, one would think he’d asked for her hand in marriage. The minute the prince was out the door, her parents clapped their hands with glee and hugged Priscilla.

  “Mom…Dad, if s only a dinner date. Don’t make more of it than there is,” she pleaded on deaf ears. Her parents, however, were much too excited to listen to her protests.

  “There’s so much that needs to be done,” her mother cried. “He’ll be back to pick you up in—” she studied her diamond watch “—oh, my heavens, in less than three hours. Priscilla, come, we have a million things to do.” On the way to the door, Elizabeth Rutherford barked orders to Mrs. Daily. When she realized Priscilla wasn’t directly behind her, she returned to the living room and grabbed hold of Priscilla’s arm.

  Given no time to dissent, Priscilla was whisked off to an occlusive dress shop and forced to endure two hours of intense shopping. Her mother insisted her evening gown must be perfect, and after being subjected to at least fifty different ones, she hadn’t the strength to object to the billowing chiffon creation her mother chose.

  Personally, Priscilla thought she resembled Scarlett O’Hara without the nineteen-inch waist. She wasn’t oblivious to her mother’s choice. It was the dress that made her most resemble a princess, direct from the pages of a Grimm fairy tale.

  Nothing was left to chance. By the time Prince Stefano arrived, she’d been pushed, prodded, pampered and prepared. Priscilla felt more like a French poodle fresh from the groomer than a grown woman.

  The real problem was that her heart wasn’t in this dinner date. If she’d had her way, she would have escaped to her room, and curled up with a good novel. Burying herself in fantasy was the only means Priscilla knew would ease the ache left in her heart after her confrontation with Pietro.

  Remembering what had happened inside the gazebo was enough to turn her cheeks to a brilliant shade of red. She prayed with all her being that somehow she would escape seeing Pietro that evening. Since he was almost always with the prince, she doubted that was possible.

  The prince arrived promptly at seven, dressed in full military splendor. It amused her because other than the palace guards, she was fairly certain San Lorenzo didn’t have an army.

  His eyes brightened when he saw her. “I didn’t think it was possible to improve on perfection,” he said, taking her hand, and tucking it into the curve of his elbow. “My car is outside if you’re ready.”

  “Have a good time,” Priscilla’s mother crowed.

  The prince seemed preoccupied on the drive into downtown Seattle. She wondered at his silence, but didn’t question it since she wasn’t in a talkative mood herself. All she wanted was for this evening to be over with so she could go back to own life.

  This entire business had taught her a valuable lesson: to be careful what you wish for. She’d wanted so desperately to win the date with Prince Stefano. It had seemed like such a fanciful thing to meet a prince. Now that she had, everything had gone wrong.

  By the time the limousine delivered them to the hotel, the banquet was about to get under way. The prince escorted Priscilla to a table at the front of the ballroom, which put him in easy reach of the stage where he’d be making his speech.

  They were soon joined by Madeline Marshall, her husband, another couple—and as Priscilla had known and dreaded, Pietro. Brief introductions were made, and the necessary small talk exchanged.

  To her dismay, Priscilla was positioned between the prince and Pietro.

  “Good evening, Priscilla,” Pietro said softly, once they were seated.

  “Good evening,” she said, not looking at him.

  What little appetite she possessed vanished. She picked at her salad, skipped the rolls and partook in polite conversation, all the while painfully conscious of Pietro’s presence.

  She felt the warmth of his body so close to her own. She smelled the scent of his after-shave, a spicy citrus concoction that flirted with her senses. She struggled against the memory of his arms holding her close, of his breath against her face and the whisper of his kiss over her lips.

  But the beauty of that moment had been forever destroyed. She wanted to erase his words, bury them under a romantic heart and pretend. But she couldn’t.

  In an effort to save her from making a bigger fool of herself, Pietro had been brutally honest, brutally clear. He didn’t share her feelings. Nor did he welcome her attention. The embarrassment she’d suffered then felt more acute now as she sat next to him at the banquet, wishing she could be anyplace else in the world.

  “There’s something wrong with your dinner?” the prince asked, when she did little more than taste the prime rib. Others were raving over the meal, while she couldn’t force down another bite.

  “Oh, no, it’s very good,” she hurried to assure him. “I guess I’m not hungry.”

  Stefano studied her briefly. “Are you unwell?”

  “I have a bit of a headache.”

  “Do you wish to return home?”

  “Oh, no. Please, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be fine.”

  “An aspirin perhaps? I’ll send Pietro for some.” He glanced in his secretary’s direction and she stopped him by placing her hand on his forearm.

  “Thank you, but I have some in my purse.”

  The prince’s attention flustered her. As for his offer to take her home, it had been more than tempting, but she didn’t want to explain to her parents why she was back so early in the evening. They’d never believe she had a headache. And they were right. It wasn’t her head that was troubling.

  It was her heart.

  When the program started, the others at the table relaxed and turned their chairs around in order to get a better view of the stage.

  When the prince stepped forw
ard to speak, Priscilla stiffened, not realizing how much she counted on him as a barrier between her and Pietro.

  “You’re not feeling well?” Pietro asked as the prince stepped onto the stage.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered, focusing her attention on the prince, not daring to meet Pietro’s gaze.

  The silence between them was as power-packed as a mine field. Every glance his way held the potential of exploding in her face. Conversation was unthinkable; she’d never be able to manage it without revealing her pain.

  The prince’s speech was short and effective. He spoke of romance and love, and claimed its strength transformed lives. Love had the power to change the world. His message seemed to come straight from his heart as if he were deeply in love himself.

  Priscilla noticed that she had become the focus of attention, especially when the prince joined her once more. She was momentarily blinded by the flash of cameras. Apparently the press assumed she was the woman who had captured Prince Stefano’s heart. She considered that almost ludicrous, but knew her parents would be ecstatic to have the speculation printed on the society page of the Seattle Times.

  Following the programs and the award ceremony, Prince Stefano was surrounded by a handful of admirers, seeking an autograph or a moment of his attention. Priscilla stepped aside and patiently waited.

  The prince looked apologetically her way, but she assured him with a smile that she didn’t mind. Indeed if circumstances had been any different she might have been one of the throng herself.

  “Can we talk?” It was Pietro’s voice that came to her, low and sullen.

  Risking everything, she forced herself to turn and meet his eyes. Pain constricted at her heart. “It isn’t necessary, Pietro. I understand. Really I do. If anything needs to be said, it’s that I’m so terribly sorry for placing you in such an uncomfortable situation.”

  “You understand nothing,” he said. His jaw was clenched and a muscle leapt in the side of his face.

  “Perhaps not,” she agreed, “but what does it matter? You and the prince will be gone in a few days, and it’s unlikely we’ll meet again.”