The Royal Affair (The Palmera Royals) (11 page)

“Princess.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Marina leaned over and kissed the top of the little girl’s head. “I hear you’ve had a ride in an ambulance all the way here.”

Her eyes brightened. “It was cool, but they didn’t put the siren on, and then I kinda threw up.”

Relief flooded Marina, and she couldn’t help but smile. Only a child would think an ambulance ride was cool. “Never mind. As long as you’re feeling better.”

“Now that you and Daddy are here.”

Suddenly, Jonas withdrew his hand from Marina’s, and a distinct icy chill emanated from him. She glanced at him, but he resolutely kept his gaze on his daughter.

Worry etched Emerald’s expression. “Right, now that you’re both here, I’ll get going. Charlie is looking after the kids, and they’ll be running rings around him. I need to rescue the poor man.” She gathered up her bag and a jacket.

Jonas turned to his sister standing behind him and dotted a kiss on her forehead. “Thanks, sis.”

“Hey, that’s what family is for.” Her gaze switched to Marina. “How much longer are you staying, Your Highness?”

Marina recognized Emerald’s curiosity. She liked this woman, liked her forthrightness and openness, and most of all liked her attitude toward family. “Please, call me Marina. My friends do.”

A delighted blush tainted Emerald’s cheeks, but before she had a chance to respond, Jonas cut in. “She’s not staying. Her Royal Highness is going.”

Marina jerked round to face him. “I am?”

His lips had thinned, expression unyielding and somber. “You are.”

Emerald’s gaze shifted from Marina to her brother and back again, eyes widening. She offered a slight shrug to Marina and shook her head. “Don’t be dumb, Jonas. Not again.” Grabbing her bag, she gave Suzie a quick hug and a wave to them all and exited, leaving silence to reign along with confusion.

“I want to stay.”

Jonas leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Too bad. You’re going. I don’t want my
daughter getting too close to you.”

“But she’s sick. She needs…”

“Me?” He stepped away. “She’s
my
daughter. My responsibility. I’ll not fail her again.”

Intent on blocking her out, the man definitely did not want her around. Now or forever, it seemed.

Heart breaking all over again, she chastised herself for such foolish hopes and dreams, for agreeing to stay, for having sex with him. Tears welled, and she blinked several times, trying to stem them. She had to get away before she showed herself up, which was definitely not what a princess did in public. Relieved to note that Suzie hadn’t picked up on the charged atmosphere between Marina and her father, she tucked her bag under her arm and pushed her shoulders back.
Princess mode. Princess mode. You can do it.

“Do you mind if I say good-bye?” she asked.

Jonas hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded his agreement. But the moment he looked away from her, she knew he’d shut the door on her completely.

Without looking at him again, because she knew if she did the tears would start, she sidestepped him to stand close by Suzie. Unfurling her clenched fingers, she brushed the hair from the little girl’s forehead. Her throat closed over and her eyes stung. She squeezed them shut.

“Are you sleeping standing up, Princess Marina?”

Hearing Suzie’s sweet voice, she opened her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip, forcing herself to be strong. “I am tired, sweetie. That’s why I have to go now.”

“No, no, you can’t.” Suzie grabbed at Marina’s hands. “Tell her, Daddy, tell her she has to stay.”

Soulful eyes like her father’s held Marina’s in abeyance. It broke Marina’s heart. Suzie wanted her, but her father did not. “I can’t, Suzie. I have to go back to my country.”

“But you could live here with me and Daddy.”

Unable to answer such a plea, Marina bent down and kissed the little girl’s cheek as a single tear escaped. She quickly brushed it away and stood to face Jonas. Desperately, she wanted to reach out and shake him until he understood, changed his mind.

“I’ll have your luggage sent to the hotel,” he said.

The hopelessness of the moment hit hard.

Hold on. Hold it together.

Marina refused to break eye contact with him. She would not show any hint of weakness. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not even for her pride’s sake, though her heart was breaking, and she wanted to plead. “I’m leaving on the first available flight.” She tipped her chin that little bit higher, grateful she managed to stem the shaking in her voice.

His eyes widened a fraction, and a brittle crack of laughter spilt from her throat. “Did you think I would hang round like a limpet, Jonas? You yourself reminded me this was business and I was simply helping you out. Now you no longer need my help. The job is over.”

“Marina…”

But she wouldn’t let him speak. He’d said enough. “Be happy, Jonas.”

Exiting the room, she refused to look back, even when Suzie’s sobs echoed in the hallway, resounding in Marina’s brain as she raced for the elevator, each floor of descent cutting the intangible thread connecting their lives.

Time to go home.

The moment she stepped out of the hospital, however, her cell phone rang. Grabbing it, she recognized her brother’s private number. “I hope this isn’t another of your vitriols, Your Highness,” she answered before Lucas had the opportunity to utter a syllable.

Chapter Twelve

“Not at all.” Lucas’s tone, far more relaxed than his middle-of-the-night call a few days earlier, brought Marina instant relief. “Cassie reminded me that we all need to play now and again. It’s how we survive the world we’re born into.”

Marina sank down onto edge a concrete planter next to the hospital’s tiled entrance and ruffled her free hand through her hair, an action that did little to appease the exhaustion so quickly taking over. “Glad you understand, brother, but you don’t need to worry. I intend to get the next plane out of Auckland.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Lucas asked.

She ignored him. “I should be home in twenty-four hours.”

“Interesting.”

She imagined her brother’s smirk. “And you can forget asking any more questions, Lucas. It’s none of your business.”

“So my wife keeps telling me.”

“So how about you listen to her? She’s a wise woman.”

“That’s why I married her, but discussing my wife’s excellent attributes is not why I phoned.”

“And what is?”

“Work. Your wish to melt into the general population wasn’t as successful as you’d hoped.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s in all the gossip rags. ‘Princess Plays with Down-Under Hunk’ is one title, I believe. There’s even a photo of you leaving a café in some small rural township.”

“Oh God! I didn’t even see a photographer.” Which surprised her. Being surrounded by paparazzi all her life, she’d become adept at sidestepping their intrusive lenses. Obviously not this time. “Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

“I’m afraid it goes with the privileges of being royal, Marina.”

“Yes, but we didn’t get a choice, did we?”

“Which brings me to my next request.”

“Request or demand?”

“Since the media are aware of you visiting New Zealand, I’ve had several
requests
for you to attend charity events. The Riding for the Disabled Association that has requested you to come to one of their trainee workshops, and since you’re involved with horses, it’s perfect for you. Plus they’re having a charity auction gala the same night and have asked if you can attend. You’ll be a big draw card for them.”

“Gee, thanks.” Marina knew she should be enthusiastic. The idea of using horses for those with handicaps was, to her way of thinking, a brilliant idea, perhaps one she could instigate in San Torrevna, but right now she didn’t want to stay in paradise but run away and lick her wounds.

“You’re welcome. But wait, dear sister, there’s more.” He chuckled down the phone line.

“There always is.”

“The CEO of the children’s hospital, Starship, I think they call it, has emailed me and requested you tour the new cancer ward.”

“No! No, I can’t go there.”
Please don’t ask me to. Not the children’s hospital.

“Marina?” Lucas warned. She recognized this slight change of tone, had heard it so many times before. Lucas sounded just like their father, Prince Frederick, when he was determined to get his way, which Lucas now, as the ruling head of San Torrevna, imitated so well.

Normally, she’d cave in, but not this time. “It’s out of the question. I’ll do the gala auction and attend the session for the Riding for the Disabled, but that’s it. No more.”

“Mind telling me why?”

Her tongue slid over her lips, and for the briefest moment, she imagined she could still taste Jonas’s. Feel them.

Purely wishful thinking.

Straightening, she brought Jonas’s hard-edged rejection to mind. “Because,” she exhaled as she stood up, “dear brother, as I have said several times before, it’s none of your business.”

“So it
is
Wilder.”

“Email me the details.” She cut the line between them.

“Welcome back, Your Highness. Your room is still awaiting you.” The hotel manager offered her a slight bow, his enthusiasm to have such a high-profile guest obvious.

Marina switched into princess mode. “Thank you, Mr. Petersen, I’m delighted to be back at your wonderful hotel.”

The manager beamed. “Anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask.”

She offered him a slight smile, though she struggled desperately to fake anything close to joy. “I’ve had an interesting few days, but all I need now is a rest. Please make sure I’m not disturbed.”

The man, in his pinstripe suit with a red rose boutonnière, almost clicked his heels and saluted.

Refusing help with her luggage, she turned and walked to the bank of elevators that took her swiftly to the penthouse suite kept in reserve for her. Closing the door behind her, she shut out the world, leaving only silence. And tears. Tears she had been holding back since the hospital. Now they flowed freely, cascading down her cheeks, accompanied by soft hiccups.

Blast Lucas. All she really wanted to do was pack her bags and go home, but the show had to go on. She was a princess, after all.

Wiping the back of her hand over her eyes, she sniffed and squared her shoulders, retrieved her laptop and signed in to her email account, quickly read Lucas’s email and the details of what was required of her.

Barely had she absorbed it all when her phone rang. She frowned. She’d told the manager she didn’t want to be disturbed. She reached for the phone. “Marina Palmera.”

“Your Highness, I’m Phoebe Langtry from Riding for the Disabled. We’re absolutely delighted you’ve agreed to stay and help us tomorrow.”

Marina kept her tone light, blinking away the tears. Princesses didn’t have time for crying, and they certainly weren’t allowed to cry on duty. “You’re welcome.” But as delightful as Ms. Langtry was, Marina wasn’t in the mood for chatter and completed the call as quickly as she could.

Finally alone, she simply stood still in the middle of her huge suite. She eyed the luxurious surroundings. The velvet-like carpet in a rich cream, walls papered in a damask pattern, the heavy silk curtains, furniture all definitely antiques.

Here was everything money could buy. A grand bedroom with a canopied bed, the lounge with dining table, a small kitchenette, where, if she wanted, she could request a chef from the hotel’s kitchen to attend to her every need. It was hers for the asking. Such was the life of being born to wealth, never having to struggle.

Except to find love. Love for this princess had proved elusive.

Exhausted beyond coherent thought, she dragged herself to the bedroom. All she wanted was to sleep away the hurt and hopefully wake to a new day, with a new heart, one that was unbroken.

Why, oh why had she let herself get sucked into wanting him again when she knew it was a disaster waiting to happen? He’d virtually told her in the beginning he didn’t want anything permanent, and definitely not love.

You fool!

On princess duty at ten a.m. sharp the next morning, Marina met the director of the RDA, Phoebe Langtry, who escorted her through a posse of paparazzi lying in wait at the hotel front.

“Who is your lover, Marina?”

“Where is he?”

“Are you serious?”

As was her usual determined practice, she ignored the barrage of up-front and definitely far too personal questions.

Once away from the city, Phoebe drove to an area called Woodhill Forest, where the equine stables were located. An eager group of children and young adults with a variety of disabilities from Down’s syndrome to cerebral palsy eagerly waited with their families and carers for a morning of getting to know the horses and riding. Everyone was very friendly and didn’t treat her as a spectacle, for which she was truly grateful. Jacques and Pierre were back on duty, a point enforced by Lucas and one on which he wouldn’t budge. Maybe the few days off had done them some good too. They seemed far more relaxed, even delighting in the children, taking the reins from carers and leading the children around the arena. Marina wasn’t sure who was having more fun.

It proved to be a hectic but thoroughly enjoyable morning, one that, despite her emotional misery, she was glad she had stayed to attend. The children and the organization deserved all the help and sponsorship they could get, and it definitely spurred ideas she could instigate in San Torrevna.

Back in the city by four thirty, she had three hours to rest, and then the show would be on once more as she attended the gala auction.

Sitting on the bed, she shucked off her shoes, noting that the answer phone light on her private suite line was flashing. Her stomach took a nosedive.

Jonas? Suzie?

Snatching up the receiver, she punched in the code so the message replayed.

“Marina, it’s me, Layla. Lucas said you’ve ah…met someone, but, well, just phone me, okay? If I don’t answer straight away, don’t worry. Lucas has me going on some goose chase to the Montoyas’ and I’m leaving in a couple of hours. But remember, don’t be a pushover, sweetie. You deserve better. Not like last time.”

Phone still clutched in her hand, Marina lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Last time?

This time too.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, staring at nothing, really, but as the wash of sadness took over, the most she could do was pull the duvet cover up over her. She wanted it to drown out the sadness, but as the sun crept low in the western horizon, reality dawned—an anomaly since the day was nearly over. She had a gala to go to. People to smile at. Right things to say. Encouragement and enthusiasm to dole out, even though she would rather stay in bed. Such was the life of a princess.

Dragging herself from bed, she headed to the marble bathroom and ran the bath, adding in several capfuls of the sweet-smelling gardenia bath salts. She could do this. She was born a princess, lived her life according to what was required of her. Meet, greet and bring a little joy to people. So how come she felt so empty?

Knowing she had no time to wallow in self-pity and had to just “get on with her lot”, as her grandmére used to say, Marina eased her exhausted frame into the water. The heat, though succoring, sadly did nothing to lessen the ache in her heart.

She’d crossed the line where Jonas was concerned, and he’d reacted brutally. She understood why. When they’d arrived back at the homestead and found Suzie had been rushed to hospital, the age-old guilt of parenthood came crashing back in tsunami proportions, just as it had four years ago in San Torrevna. Jonas blamed himself then, just as he had yesterday. He’d taken a risk leaving Suzie overnight. His reasoning that every time he left his daughter, disaster struck, reaffirmed in Jonas’s mind that playing hooky and getting involved with a woman—with her—was not something he could afford ever again.

Overwhelmed by the sadness of it all, Marina sank lower in the water, wishing she could soak away more than her aches. But while it was glorious to soak, she couldn’t stay there forever, and as time drew nearer to when she would need to leave for the gala, she reluctantly pulled the plug on the scented water and exited the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, she was no closer to being ready to leave. Not expecting to attend such a function while in New Zealand, Marina rifled through the clothes she’d brought with her, rejecting most. Finally, she withdrew a simple black sheath by one of Italy’s finest designers and a fire-engine red chiffon dress with a rather plunging neckline.

Basic in black. Safe. Elegant. Princess-like.

Or, daring in red. Bad.

Jonas had tempted her to be bad.

Grabbing the clothes bag, she quickly unzipped it before she had a chance to second-guess herself and slipped on the exquisite yet boldly designed gown. From the waist up, it fit like a glove, the deep neckline cut almost to the heavily beaded band that circled her waistline. The skirt flared out in multiple layers of red tissue-like chiffon, the matching satin lining silky against her skin.

Twisting her hair into a loose chignon, she secured it with diamond clips, then snapped a gold-and-diamond circlet on her arm and slipped red satin shoes on her feet.

When she glanced down, the row of diamantes stitched onto the toe piece sparkled, and she couldn’t resist snapping her heels together. “Kansas, here I come.”

But she couldn’t smile. With her heart so heavy, smiling felt rather alien.

The French carriage clock sitting on the ormolu engraved desk in the corner of the bedroom chimed seven p.m. “Time to get into princess mode, Marina.” Her beaded clutch in one hand, she checked her makeup for a final time, tweaking a recalcitrant strand.

Her hand stilled as she remembered when a curl had fallen across Jonas’s forehead, and how she’d wanted to brush it away.

Her hand dropped to her side. “It’s over, you goose.” Actually, it wasn’t over, because in reality, it had never started. It was a whim. A flight of fantasy visited oh, so briefly. It was also a night of superb passion revisited.

Playing princess was her real world.

A knock sounded on her door, and she exited her bedroom and crossed the lounge room to open it.

“Your Highness.”

Pierre and Jacques stood side by side, dressed as always in black suits, the tiny red-and-gold insignia breast buttons in their jacket lapels the only hint that they represented another country.

She offered them a halfhearted smile, aware of a growing sense of disquiet. Her escape into being bad had definitely come to a grinding halt. “I guess the show is back on the road.”

After being escorted down to the lobby, she was greeted by an enthusiastic Phoebe. “Your Highness.” She bowed low. “It’s so wonderful. You look wonderful. Oh, this is just wonderful.”

Marina cut her off with a kind smile, uncertain how many more
wonderfuls
she could take from the efficient Phoebe. “I’m delighted to help.” What she meant was that she wanted it over as quickly as possible and to leave this Southern Pacific paradise and go home.

A few minutes later, crowds and television cameras followed her every step as she entered the elaborate hotel ballroom.

The grand room had been festooned with candles which glittered in sparkling candelabra on each table, and the scent from exquisite floral decorations of creamy frangipani scented the air.