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“Jacob, he’s all I have. You left. Please stay away. I can’t deal with this.”
She felt all the strength rush out of the man. His hands dropped away from her and he stepped back. “My God,” he breathed. “He is my child.”
Her eyes flew open in sudden terror. “No! He’s mine, just mine and no one else’s.”
Jacob stared at her as if he still didn’t believe what he knew in his soul must be true. “Someone is that child’s father. Let me see him. I’ll know.”
“No!” she shouted. “Get out. Get out or I’ll call the police. I swear I will!”
He reached out for her, but she dodged away. A terror unlike any she’d ever experienced raced through her, blinding her to all thoughts but one. If Jacob was who he claimed to be—the man whose picture Diane had showed her in the newspaper—he had power and money enough to do anything he wished. Anything.
That included taking her child away from her, if he could prove he was Cray’s father. Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that she might be in real danger of losing Cray. She’d believed all she had to fear was another bruising to her heart and pride.
This was worse, far worse.
“Listen to me, Alli,” Jacob begged in a hoarse whisper. “No one is going to hurt you or that baby. You have my word.”
Maybe it was because she heard a subtle undercurrent of fear in his voice that she felt comforted. She kept her distance but turned toward him. His dark eyes looked sad, confused. This was all new to him. As he stood there, he must have been absorbing the various concepts attached to fatherhood, one at a time, but very rapidly. She’d had fifteen months to become comfortable with being a mother.
Jacob spoke to her again, his voice uneven. “I’m not going to hurt you again. I’m sorry. I didn’t know...didn’t realize—” He let the unfinished thought go. He turned his head away as if uneasy with meeting her gaze. He blinked at the wall and held himself rigid in the middle of her living room unsure of which way to move, or whether he should move at all.
Allison reached out one hand and touched the arm of her couch. Slowly, she let herself down onto a lumpy cushion, then dropped her head into her hands. “If you mean what you say about not hurting me, you’ll leave now,” she whispered dully.
“Is that really what you want?”
“Haven’t I said so a dozen times?” she moaned. “Just go away...and don’t come back.”
She heard him pacing the carpet, cursing beneath this breath. She sensed him standing over her, studying her...and she kept her eyes closed, her palms pressed over her eyes, blocking him out as best she could, as she prayed he’d do what she asked.
But when the door closed with a faint, irrevocable click, Allison felt something fragile shatter inside of her.
“Jacob?” she whispered, dropping her hands and staring at the door. “Jacob?”
The rental car was a shiny white Lincoln Continental—plush, smelling new-car pungent, richly upholstered in buff-colored butter-soft leather. Its luxurious interior contrasted sharply with the simple, homey furnishings of Alli’s beach house.
Jacob had stood helplessly over her as she collapsed onto the cheap plaid upholstered couch, which looked like something older people might have bought decades earlier and left with the house. Or maybe it was one of Alli’s yardsale treasures. He actually didn’t remember it from the summer they’d spent together.
But now he was unable to get the damn colors of the room out of his head. Shades of rust and gold matched the mustard-colored carpet that looked carefully maintained to last another twenty years. Nothing he’d seen in the house was of any real worth, except for a few pieces of antique porcelain displayed on a sideboard. The whole lot would have brought a couple hundred dollars on the auction block—less than the cost of the hand-tailored silk shirt he wore.
Back when they’d been together, she hadn’t seemed so different from him. They both loved books. They talked endlessly about their favorite kinds of music, art, literature. She daydreamed about traveling to foreign lands. He’d played along, promising to take her wherever she wanted—Rome, Vienna, Paris, Madrid—not letting on he’d already been to all the places she dreamed of visiting. And she’d laughed at him, never suspecting that he had the power to do all that he said.
Today, she seemed to him to come from another world—one where people proudly pinched pennies to afford new slipcovers, one where a two-bedroom single-bath cottage was large enough to raise a family with three or four kids. One where a young woman’s pride and love were worth more than any amount of money.
On top of all that—the existence of the child was a total shock. He had always been so careful. Hadn’t his father’s closest adviser, Frederik, constantly stressed to a young prince the dangers of unprotected contact with young women? He must have been no more than twelve years old the first time he’d suffered through the lord counselor’s tedious lecture. But soon it had come to make more sense to him. Not only was health an issue, there were vast financial and dynastic considerations.
If a young woman appeared on the castle’s doorstep with a baby, claiming it had been sired by the crown prince...at the very least, the world press corps would have a field day. But if she could actually prove the child was Prince Jacob’s bastard, all hell would break loose in Elbia. She’d have to be paid off, and handsomely. A million dollars to silence her and support the child wouldn’t be too much.
Jacob understood that his father, his cabinet and royal advisers wouldn’t object to his sowing his proverbial oats as long as he did so discreetly, with no embarrassing repercussions. During his late teen years and throughout his twenties, he’d had frequent opportunities to practice discretion. He quickly learned that money and fame were powerful aphrodisiacs. Women were more than willing to share their bodies with him, just to say they’d slept with a real prince. And he was generous during his brief affairs. He bought his lovers expensive gifts—jewelry, cars, expensive clothing. One charming lady had even merited a profitable boutique on the Rue de la Seine in Paris, in return for a few months’ companionship. If they were at all disappointed when he left them, they didn’t complain. His parting gifts had a consoling effect.
Alli had been different.
The day in June when he’d met her on the beach, he’d somehow sensed she wasn’t the kind of girl to be impressed by a title or seeing a lot of cash thrown her way. There was a quality about her that transcended the world he’d come to know. She smiled, and his heart warmed. She laughed, and he felt life was simple and free of the stifling obligations that awaited him back home in Elbia.
Alli loved books and worked in a library. Books had been his only friends as he’d grown up in a cold, friendless castle overlooking the valley of his homeland. He felt good around her. He felt like a normal man—not someone whose destiny was determined at birth, who had no choice in career or home or mate.
He had chosen her for a few weeks of love and friendship and he’d been so happy living in her world, if only for that short time.
Unlike all the other times, he had not told his mistress who he was. He was sure that if he had, Alli wouldn’t have become involved with him or allowed him to stay. For then she’d understand he couldn’t remain with her, even if he’d wanted to. That was where he’d most cruelly deceived her. He’d known she was falling in love with him. He’d known he was going to have to hurt her. But he hadn’t been man enough to stay and see her tears when he said goodbye.
As he thought about these things, Jacob started the car and began driving. He didn’t pay much attention to where the road was taking him until he steered into the marina’s parking lot. He left the car for the valet to park, waved down the launch and climbed aboard. He pointed at the Queen Elise, then stood in the bow, ignoring the pleasant chatter of the young man who piloted the water taxi to the larger ships anchored offshore. All the while, Jacob kicked himself for looking up Alli again.
Before today, he’d been haunted by her in ways he couldn’t have explained to himself and wouldn’t have even tried to rationalize for Thomas, Frederik or his father. There had been women after Alli, but they hadn’t excited him as she had. Thoughts of her had unexpectedly come to him at the worst possible moments—interfering with his ability to enjoy intimacy or make important decisions that would affect his future.
By seeing her again, he’d hoped to put his head right. Get her out of his system, as he’d told Thomas. She’d be fifty pounds heavier and totally out of shape. She’d have married a brute of a trucker with a pierced nose...be saddled with two whiny brats who, sadly, resembled their beerguzzling dad.
But she wasn’t any of those things. She was as sweet and innocent and perfect as when they’d been together. And she turned him on something fierce whenever they touched, even more so when they’d kissed. He wasn’t over her, he thought dismally. Not by a long shot.
But far worse, he’d learned he had a son. And that was a problem he couldn’t walk away from.
Alli might swear to him that she’d never make the paternity of her child public knowledge, and she probably would keep that promise. But what if some snoopy reporter got hold of the information despite her vow of silence? What if someone close to Alli decided there was money to be made by selling her secret?
All of that aside, Jacob didn’t know if he could be low enough to turn his back on a child he’d created. Just the thought of having a son drew emotions from him he didn’t know he had. Pride...concern...responsibility...The others were far too confusing to even begin to analyze.
He slumped against a crate being ferried to one of the boats in the cove as the sleek launch zipped between expensive pleasure boats, heading for the one that dwarfed all the rest, the Queen Elise. He remembered he hadn’t taken Alli’s package with him, then shrugged. What did it matter now? Whether or not she accepted his gift or came to his party was the least of his worries.
Alli stood over Cray’s crib, looking tenderly down at her son as he napped. A wave of such intense emotion washed over her, its force nearly knocked her off of her feet. She loved the little boy, as any mother loved her child. But now she feared for him, as she feared for herself.
Jacob.
Why had he come back?
He had acted surprised when Cray started crying in his bedroom. Had that reaction been an honest one? Or had he known all along that she had given birth to his child?
An icy shiver curled through her. Of course, a man like Jacob had all sorts of ways of keeping track of people. What if he’d been informed of Cray’s existence many months ago? What if he was only now getting around to coming to Connecticut to claim his son?
The possibility terrified her.
But there was something wrong with that reasoning, she told herself. If having a son meant anything to him, why had he waited so long? Why hadn’t he shown up while she’d been pregnant? During those trying emotional months, she’d been at her weakest. She’d been so very afraid she wouldn’t know how to take care of a child, and wouldn’t be capable of supporting herself and Cray on her meager pay. If Jacob had known she was about to have his baby, why hadn’t he shown up then?
Maybe he was up to something far worse than she’d imagined. He wanted something from her, or he wouldn’t have come back. Until she knew exactly what that was, she wouldn’t be able to protect herself or her son from him.
After draping a light blanket over Cray and touching his fuzzy little head one last time, Allison slowly made her way out to the kitchen at the back of the house. She brewed herself a cup of hot tea and took it into the living room. There, on the floor, sat the large dark mauve box Jacob had brought earlier.
Allison sat on the couch, staring speculatively at the unmarked package while she sipped her tea. I don’t care what’s in there, she thought. It’s going back.
But how? she asked herself. She could pay someone to take the thing back to him on his stupid boat. But why should she go to the expense when money was already tight? What she should do was shove the unopened box in the trash. That would show him!
But the thrifty New Englander in Allison wouldn’t allow her to throw away a perfectly good...perfectly good what? What would she be throwing away?
She glared at the box, imagining something evil and threatening lurking inside the innocent-looking but interestingly colored cardboard. Pandora’s box—the classic tease. Why was he doing this to her? Had he intentionally left the thing to torment her, knowing she couldn’t stop herself from opening it?
Acting on impulse, Allison set her mug on the coffee table and stood up. She approached the box warily, from the side, as if afraid something alive might leap out of it at any moment, baring its fangs at her. Reaching down, she slipped her fingers inside one flap and tore the box open.
Three
Her hands trembling, Allison bent back the four cardboard flaps, then parted layer after layer of distinctive rose-and-gold tissue paper. She recognized the color and pattern of the wrapping materials. They had come from a posh Manhattan clothier. She and Diane had once dared each other to walk through the elegant etched-glass doors, and Diane had treated her to a silk scarf for her birthday that cost twice as much as anything in Allison’s closet.
Breathlessly, she reached beneath the crackling sheets of tissue and touched something soft, silky, fluid. She lifted the fabric. Suspended from her fingertips was a pale peacock blue dress of delicate tucks and flounces. It was the most beautiful garment she’d ever seen.
She was furious.
“You son of a—” She stopped herself, remembering Cray, who was within hearing range.
But this dress!
It was both a bribe and a slap in the face. Apparently, Jacob had intended for her to wear his gift to his party. He thought that by giving her something expensive he could persuade her to do whatever he wanted, just as he’d bribed, seduced and sweet-talked countless other women into bed. To him, it was a reflex. Like snapping his fingers to summon a waiter. Come here. Obey me!
But this was far, far worse, because in a way he was also saying he doubted she’d have anything decent to wear among polite company. Or—she wouldn’t have the sense to dress appropriately for one of his high-society soirees.
Opening her fingers, she let the delicate silk layers drift through them and back into the box. “I’ll show you, Your Royal High and Mightiness,” she hissed.
Jacob stood in the bow of the Queen Elise, a chilled martini in one hand, a cigar in his other, observing another load of guests as they stepped excitedly from the launch onto his yacht. The ship was already brimming with smartly heeled party goers. Some he recognized from his visit to the UN on behalf of his father. Others were local politicians, journalists and CEOs of businesses interested in opening offices in Elbia. One man was a playwright who currently boasted two hit musicals and a comedy on Broadway. They drank freely of his champagne and nibbled politely from trays of hors d’oeuvres circulated by servers from the sole caterer in Nanticoke.
Not one among the beaming faces that gushed with greetings for him and wished good health for his father, the king, was Alli’s. He didn’t really expect her to show, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking for her.
Over an hour after the party started, the launch appeared yet again. This time it was empty except for its young skipper, in his nautical whites, and a single passenger. Jacob lost interest in the guest’s identity once he’d determined the newcomer wasn’t wearing the vibrant blue dress he’d bought Alli for the occasion. The launch slowly circled the yacht as Jacob conversed with an eager banker. He was aware of the motor cutting, idling, but paid little attention otherwise.
Mingling with the salt spray, a faint whiff of a familiar perfume caught his attention. He straightened by inches to look more closely at the petite figure climbing the steps into the stern of the Queen Elise.
The young woman’s hair glittered like spun gold in the late afternoon sunlight. It was brushed out long and smooth, down her back and away from her face. The strands blew delicately in the sea breeze. Piercing her tiny pink earlobes were simple gold knots and clinging interestingly to her body was a silky pantsuit that might have doubled as lounging pajamas. The effect was a mysterious blend of casual elegance.
Intriguingly, the color of her garment so nearly matched her skin, when he observed her from a particular angle and with the setting sun backlighting her—she almost looked as if she was without any clothing at all. It was impossible from a distance to tell where cloth ended and skin began. Only when the air moved around her as she stepped gracefully onto the deck, could he see the outline of sheer sleeves that draped gracefully along her arms and floated on the ocean’s breath.
“Welcome aboard!” he called out to her through the crowd of guests, turning away from the banker. He noticed she was carrying a small canvas bag. An overnight satchel? He felt a distinct surge of hope.
Allison shaded her eyes and observed him as he approached her, a small smile playing over her lips.
“You look stunning,” he said, aware that most of his guests were watching him and the late arrival very closely.
“Thank you,” she said demurely.
“Didn’t the dress I bought you fit?”
“I’m not in the habit of accepting gifts from strangers,” she said quickly.
It stung. A stranger. Was that how she thought of him? They’d slept in each other’s arms, explored each other’s bodies intimately. Yet, in honesty, he’d done as much with other women and he thought of them as no more than strangers. Some, he couldn’t even recall their names...Why did it hurt that she felt the same about him?
“Maybe we can remedy that situation,” he said, flashing her the dazzling but mechanical smile that had begun so many successful seductions. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “Most of my guests will be leaving by dark.”
“And I will join them,” she said succinctly. “I only came to return this.”
She held out the canvas tote. He peered inside. Scrunched up in a humble ball at its bottom was the expensive dress he’d bought her.
“I’m sorry—I thought you’d be pleased.”
“Why?” she asked bluntly. “Why should a woman fall all over herself because you throw an expensive trinket her way?”
He blinked at her, searching for a comeback. He’d sensed this side of her two years ago, but for some reason it hadn’t occurred to him that she’d reject a gift now.
“Oh, I see,” she said when he failed to find words for his confused thoughts. “It’s always worked before, so why not now? Something like that? Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” She swung away from him nonchalantly, gazing around the deck. “Where’s the food. I’m starved.”
Jacob watched as Allison sauntered across the deck, smiling pleasantly as she greeted a few of his guests on her way toward the hatch that led below, to the galley. She disappeared down the steps. It took several shocked minutes for him to realize what had just happened.
She’d spurned him!
Perhaps he should have skipped right to his usual second gift, a diamond tennis bracelet. But he had a sneaking suspicion she’d have quite literally flung it in his face. What was wrong with the woman? Didn’t she appreciate quality?
Gradually, anger crept in over his incredulousness. Every muscle in his body tensed. He felt as if he were standing under a blazing sun, although the air was cooling as a purple dusk wrapped itself around the yacht. Miniature lanterns, strung along the deck rail, flickered on, casting a golden glow across the deck. With a low growl of aggravation, he tucked the canvas tote under his arm and strode toward the steps to the galley.
An elderly couple stood talking with Allison. He cast them a black look; they politely ended the conversation and headed up the steps.
Jacob grabbed Allison’s arm, stopping her from reaching for a marinated mussel on a serving tray. “What are you trying to pull?”
“Pull?” she asked, innocently.
“Yes, pull. Do you think you can up the ante by giving me back the dress? What is it you want from me?”
She turned her head away, as if pretending to study the array of fresh sliced melon and tropical fruit.
“Look at me, Alli,” he ordered.
She ignored him, but he felt her arm lock nervously beneath his fingers.
“Look at me!” he roared.
She twisted free and faced him, her chin lifting defiantly. Her eyes leaped with aquamarine flames. “I’m looking,” she pronounced tersely.
“Why did you return my gift?”
“I don’t need anyone to buy me clothes.”
“I see,” he said slowly. “Then I was right. You are looking for something more from me.” He hadn’t expected this of her. It seemed that people did change, after all. “You might as well lay it on the line. What is it you want from me?”
She fixed him with a cold, challenging glare. “Nothing. I want nothing from you, Jacob. That’s why I came here tonight—to make that point.”
“Liar.”
Instead of reacting in anger as he’d expected, she took a long moment to coolly study him, her pretty eyes drifting down, then up his tall, trim body. “Why should I lie to you? Has that been your experience with women? They always want something from you?”
“Always,” he ground out.
She nibbled her bottom lip contemplatively. “I expect so. But there’s a reason for that, you realize.”
“What?”
“They expect a payoff, because those are the ground rules you always establish for your relationships.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted. Ground rules? The woman was maddening. He hardly ever raised his voice, but she made him want to bellow like a longshoreman. “I’m very nice to the women in my life. I—”
“I didn’t say you weren’t nice, in your own material way. What I meant was, you apparently have a reputation for becoming bored with lovers and chucking them out faster than a fashion model changes her shoes. If a woman with any sense at all gets involved with you, she knows she’s going to be dumped in a matter of weeks. So she views you the same way you view her. You take what you can from her, and she takes the only thing you’re selling—expensive baubles.”
Jacob glared at her. “You make me sound pretty damn shallow. I’m not like that. Ask Thomas!”
She laughed and shook her head, sending a smooth blond wave shimmering. “Who’s Thomas? Your manservant?” Her tone was clearly disparaging.
She was driving him nuts. What right did this small-town librarian have to analyze him? “Well, yes...Thomas is my chauffeur and bodyguard and many other things, but he’s also my friend.”
“And I’m sure he’s generously compensated for taking your side in any discussion,” she stated.
He read in her eyes that she understood she’d stepped over some invisible line with her last barb. Doubt flashed across her face.
Jacob felt heat rise in his own. Suddenly, it seemed impossible not to grab her, and he did. He wanted to shake her, shake her hard and make her understand he wasn’t a bad man at all—it was just that the world refused to treat him like other men. Things had always been different for him. He was given special privileges, yes. But there were rights other men took for granted—like privacy, choice of education and occupation, the ability to live wherever one wished and marry whomever one chose. He would never have those things.
This time, when he gripped her arm, he let her know through the pressure of his fingers on her flesh that she wouldn’t be able to break free until he was ready to let her go. “Thomas never gives less than his honest opinion, even if he knows I won’t like it,” he growled at her.