Once Upon a King. Holly Jacobs

      “Maybe it’s a trait that’s connected to the Y chromosome?” she asked.

      “Maybe. But you’ll have to admit that the night we met neither of us was particularly cautious.”

      Some emotion he couldn’t quite identify passed over her face as she slowly nodded.

      “I guess you could say that.”

      “About that night, I’d like to—”

      She sprang from the chair. “Sorry, Michael. No time to reminisce. I’ve got a clean bill of health and need to find your mother and talk about the wedding. Two ceremonies in one and only a month to plan them. I’ve got lots and lots of work to do.”

      “We’re going to have to talk about that night.”

      “I don’t see why. It was just a night. A passing fling. A one-night stand. There’s nothing to talk about or analyze. It was over almost before it started. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to freshen up before the meeting with your mother.”

      This time Michael took the hint and stood.

      Cara looked pale and a bit shaky and he didn’t want to upset her more than he suspected she already was.

      “Fine, I’ll let it go for now. But you’re here for a whole month, cara mia. You won’t be able to run from that night forever.”

      “I’m not running. I’m simply stating the truth. I’d prefer keeping my visit to your country on a completely professional level, if you don’t mind.”

      “Ah, cara mia, I do indeed mind.” He took her hand and before she could pull it away, he planted a light kiss on it. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”

      He left her standing in the middle of the room looking a bit shell-shocked, and still far too pale for his peace of mind.

      He knew there was more to the tests Dr. Stevens—Tommy—was running. He hurried to try and catch the good doctor before he left.

      Michael wanted answers and he wanted them now.

      Three

      Cara had planned to avoid Michael, at least until she figured out what to do. But avoiding the determined prince wasn’t easy.

      Three days after her leave-me-alone request, she had to admit a momentary defeat, but she didn’t accept it gracefully. She glared at him as he sat across from her in the limo, his assistant next to him.

      Michael’s mother was by her side, talking excitedly about the double wedding, oblivious to any tensions in the car.

      “…Morgan has been designing my clothes for years. I think you’ll like her plans for Shey’s gown and Parker’s. And of course, as bridesmaid, she’s got something very special in mind for you.”

      “I can’t wait to see it.” Cara tried to sound enthusiastic for the queen’s sake, but wasn’t sure she quite pulled it off.

      It was all Michael’s fault. He was staring at her with an intensity that made even a normal conversation difficult.

      “Thanks so much for letting me tag along,” Michael said. “It made sense to carpool. And I won’t need the car long. When would you two ladies like to be picked up?”

      “About two hours should allow us enough time to look over all Morgan’s sketches, and permit her to take Cara’s measurements.”

      Cara knew it was ridiculous, but she found herself blushing anyway as Michael grinned and raised an eyebrow at the mention of her measurements.

      His assistant, whether by chance or design, changed the subject from Cara’s fittings to guards.

      “They’ve already cleared the building?” he asked the queen.

      “Yes. There are two guards already there, and another two in the car behind us.”

      “The king asked that I request you don’t try to elude them today.” Marstel glanced nervously in the queen’s direction, as if he were afraid of her response.

      “I promise,” she told the dark-haired man. She turned to Cara and explained, “When I first arrived in Eliason, I found having bodyguards extremely difficult to deal with. On occasion, I would lose them. Even after all these years, my husband still feels the need to remind me to behave.”

      “All these years?” Michael asked. “I believe just last month you lost your guards and—”

      “Spent the afternoon at the children’s shelter. Bodyguards make the children nervous. They’re intimidating.”

      “But they’re a way of life,” Michael maintained. “Just another part of our position.”

      “Do you like being followed?” Cara asked Michael, even though she’d told herself she was going to totally ignore him.

      “No, I can’t say I enjoy being watched so closely, but it’s just another facet of my life. And Marstel, in addition to being my assistant, also doubles as security, and he’s not overly intimidating.”

      “Hey,” Marstel protested with a laugh.

      “You intimidate me,” Cara assured him sweetly.

      He grinned. “Thanks.”

      She turned her attention back to Michael. “Parker hated this kind of thing.”

      He nodded. “Yes, she did. And I’m truly glad she’s found a life, found someone who makes her happy.”

      “What about you?” Cara asked. “Does this life make you happy?”

      The question sort of slipped out, but she wasn’t sorry she’d asked. She wanted to know. Was this life—a life her child might someday become a part of—one that a person could find happiness in?

      “There are facets that provide me with a sense of accomplishment and a great deal of gratification. There are others that are hard to bear, the restriction on my freedom is one of them.” He paused and seemed to weigh her question. “On the whole, yes, I’m happy. Could I be happier?” He looked directly at her. “Yes.”

      Cara’s breath caught for a moment with the intensity of Michael’s gaze. When he finally blinked, she felt herself pulled back into focus and pressed. “But if you had a choice, would you choose this life?”

      “Unlike Parker, I don’t have a choice. This is the life I was born into. I have a duty to my country, one I wouldn’t set aside even if I could.”