His Royal Princess Page 4

  She understood. Americans lacked control in everything.

  Celina followed Drake through the house and to the backyard, where he stopped outside next to a swimming pool. She followed his example and sat on one of the chairs scattered on the patio.

  "Feels good out here tonight. Not too hot. We get quite a breeze coming off the mountains, and when the sun goes down, everyone spends more time outside." Drake looked at her, and she rubbed her arms. Not from the coolness of the night, but because he unnerved her.

  "You are going to get tired of hearing me talk if you don't join in," Drake teased, scooting his chair around to see her better.

  "I'm not used to talking to men." Couldn't he tell he'd upset her? She could damn the prince, but he needed to respect the prince.

  "Do you have brothers? Are you allowed to talk with them?"

  She nodded and paused. "Yes, I have six brothers. We speak to one another at meals." For some reason, she wasn't ready to confess how she snuck over to their room sometimes, and whispered during breaks at school.

  "Whoa. How many sisters do you have?"

  "Four. The prince has eleven children, counting myself." She wasn't sure Papa counted her amongst one of his kids anymore.

  "I'm sorry. You must be homesick. I didn't realize how much family you left behind, and I made you feel worse with my behavior at the table." Drake lowered his voice. "I'm sorry for insulting your upbringing."

  She turned her head toward the hills in the distance and wiped away the one tear she couldn't hold back. To change or not to change weighed heavily on her shoulders tonight.

  "What kind of things do you like to do?"

  Celina kept her hands in her lap, her ankles crossed. What if she told him about her life with the other women and she angered him again?

  "I like to study. The other girls and I swim in the pool and gather in the courtyard to visit. I join the women a few days each week to sew our clothes. Sometimes, Papa takes a few of us out on the boat and lets us fish. I'm not very good, but I enjoy it."

  A chirping noise in one of the bushes outlining the property became louder the more Celina talked. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

  Drake cocked his eyebrow at her. "That's just a—"

  "Grasshopper. I know," she gave up and smiled. "I'm afraid the grasshopper liked having the night to himself instead of listening to me talk."

  Drake laughed, and Celina's heart fluttered.

  "I'm really not so different than other women. I have dreams and thoughts. Being sheltered is something all Antakian women are raised to be...it doesn't displease us, exactly."

  She hated how it seemed important to her for Drake to know this. She wanted him to admire her, but guilt ate at her insides.

  She broke eye contact with him and gazed back out to the mountains. She must not forget she belonged to his father.

  The warm orange and dusty rose colors landing on the hills in the distance cast a shadow across the patio. The darkness would turn to daylight in the morning, and she knew her challenge of becoming an American would take longer than a night—if it happened at all.

  "What kind of studies did you have back home? Do you think you would be interested in going to college here?"

  "No, that's not what I'm here for." Her fingers wound together so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  "I don't understand. You came here to experience America, right? A lot of people start college later than most."

  Celina shook her head and kept her gaze down. Her future involved Charles and the children who followed their union. Her father would be pleased if she obeyed his wishes.

  A familiar figure walked along the back of the property, following a path beyond the Randall's' yard. She recognized the person. "Where's Mrs. Stevenson going this late at night?"

  "She's going home. Do you see the little cottage farther down the path? Mrs. Stevenson lives there." Drake pointed.

  How unfair! A wife should sleep within the safety of her husband's house. She pursed her lips, not liking the possibility that one day she might walk to her own house, away from her husband. Her papa would never treat one of his wives with such indifference.

  "Why are you frowning?" Drake touched her arm and drew her out of her thoughts.

  She rubbed her skin where Drake touched her. His attention set her on edge. "Back home, a man keeps his wife inside his house. He offers her protection, comfort, and gives her anything she desires."

  Drake smiled. The dimple in his right cheek revealed itself, tempting Celina, and she narrowed her eyes. She would not fall for his charm and repeat the same mistake her mother did.

  The wind picked up, and Celina shivered. Once again, Drake reached over and rubbed her arm. She froze.

  Up and down.

  Up and down.

  Instead of his ministrations warming her up, goose bumps broke out all over her. Her body betrayed her, and she stood. She needed the nerves inside her stomach to stop.

  She walked over to the side of the pool, slipped her shoe off, and dipped her toe in the water. At home, she might have gone swimming, but this pool sat out in the open where everyone walked freely. What if someone lusted over her body the way she heard men do back home? There would be no one around to protect her.

  Celina rubbed her bare arm where Drake had touched her so gently. His hands, strong and larger than her own, had a seductive quality that would tempt any woman. She squeezed the skin above her wrist, wanting to forget how she felt by his touch. She needed to protect herself from all Americans. They expected her to follow their moves like a snake charmer tames a poisonous snake.

  "Would you like to swim?"

  She shook her head. Why couldn't he understand? It wasn't proper for him to act the way he did.

  "You should stop. Your father would not like it."

  "My father? What wouldn't he like?" Drake stepped back to give her space. "You'll have to explain that one to me, I'm afraid."

  Smarter than either Drake or Charles gave her credit for, she'd not let them lead her around by their lies. She stuck her chin up in the air and pulled her shoulders back. She'd show him how an Antakian woman acted.

  "I'm going to marry your father, yet...you touch me and make me have jolts of energy inside my body. You ask me to go swimming with you and..." Anger reared its ugly head. Anger at Drake. Anger at Prince Joqua. Damn them both.

  Her arms stiffened, and she clenched her fists. No one would change her from an Antakian woman. She controlled how she thought, and she'd not allow herself to lose control around Drake. She would not turn into her mother.

  "Whoa. Settle down." Drake grasped her upper arms, and she tried to pull away, but he held on.

  "You are twenty years old and you don't recognize when you are attracted to someone?"

  "Of course I do, I'm not stupid. You shouldn't look at me, touch me...It's wrong." Her chin rose in the air, and she narrowed her eyes. "I'm your father's property."

  Drake dropped his hands, cleared his throat and stepped back. "My father owns you?"

  "Yes." The stiffness went out of her, and she dropped her gaze. "He's to be my husband."

  Scratching his chest, Drake cocked his head. "I don't know how to tell you this, Celina, but my father has a girlfriend he loves immensely. They've been together since my mother passed away when I was young."

  Drake took a step toward Celina, but she stepped backward. Her foot didn't touch ground, and her arms reached out, grasping for something to stop her fall.

  "Celina!"

  She held her breath. The tepid water engulfed her, and she sunk. Lower and lower.

  The bottom of the pool helped her push up, and her head broke the surface. Drake kneeled beside the pool with his hand out, grabbing for her. She tried to swim away, but her hair tangled around her arms.

  "Here you go. I got you."

  The cold air rushed at her body, and she shivered. Drake stared at her body. She glanced down. The water turned her dress transparent, a
nd the material clung to her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination. She refused to cover herself.

  "Stop it."

  "What?" His gaze stayed glued to her chest.

  "Stop staring at me like you want to eat me for dinner. It's wrong, and you're only asking for trouble." She crossed her arms to cover her breasts. "You American men...ugh, you can't be trusted!"

  It didn't help seeing the hungry expression on Drake's face. Her hardened nipples tingled, and she wanted nothing more than to lean into him, to steal his body warmth.

  His full lips moved, and instead of hearing his words, she imagined those same lips on her skin. Shivering, she stood in front of him, tempting fate.

  The magnetic pull toward his body set her on fire. He brushed her hair away from the front of her face, his hand skimming the side of her cheek. She curled her head into the heat of his flesh, and her eyes closed automatically.

  The warm, moist brush of his breath against her cheek warned her. He wanted to kiss her. She arched her neck, and her chest touched his. Her body's pleasure orchestrated her movements, and she seemed incapable of fighting her attraction to Drake.

  "Oh. Her eyes opened wide. No. No." She must make him see reason. "I can't. Drake, this is wrong."

  She ran past Drake, through the house, until she slammed her bedroom door. She rushed to bolt the lock, not knowing if she wanted to keep Drake out, or herself in. Papa spoke the truth. Part of her mother still lived inside her.

  Chapter Four

  The rat-a-tat-tat on the door sent Charles hastily stuffing the file into the top drawer of his desk.

  "Come in," he called, shutting the drawer.

  Drake. Charles motioned his son to come in and sit. The dark circles under his son's eyes concerned him.

  "What drags you out of bed at this hour?"

  Drake sat in the chair across from the desk and ran his hand over his face. "Why did you bring Celina to our home?"

  Charles frowned. He didn't plan on, or expect, Drake to give him trouble.

  "I already told you. Prince Joqua asked this favor of me, and out of respect for the on-going business we conduct, I didn't think it would be a hardship to let the girl stay here."

  Charles studied his son. Something bothered him. "You might want to have a talk with Celina. Last night she told me you were going to marry her. That you owned her now."

  "What?" The shock gave way to understanding. "Never mind. I should have seen the problem at the start. Prince Joqua..." He shook his head. "I'll have a talk with her. Poor thing. I can't imagine what she's been through, being turned out of her own house and thinking she was walking into a marriage with an old man." Charles slumped against the back of his chair.

  "Good. I think after hearing she has no obligations, she'll be more eager to learn how we do things here. I can't fathom why the prince would want his daughter to leave his country without his protection. Does he have no idea how different America is if you compare our world to the laws and customs in Antaka? She's so naive. It would be easy for her to get hurt here."

  "He knows, and I'm sure he has his reasons."

  Drake shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. I'll let you get back to work. You won't mind if I take the yacht out today, do you? Celina mentioned she enjoys to fish."

  "No. Have fun, and I'll see you at dinner." Charles waved his son out of the room.

  Alone, he rubbed the heels of his palms against his forehead. "How the hell did I get in this mess?"

  ***

  Two hours later, the office door opened for the second time that morning. The vision standing in the doorway waited for permission to enter. She resembled a young, shy woman and had eyes that questioned him silently.

  "Come in, Celina. Please, have a seat." Charles motioned to the chair Drake had occupied previously.

  "I hope you slept well."

  Celina nodded. He wished she'd take the world by the horns and speak her mind.

  "I wanted to talk with you." He relaxed the muscles in his face. "Drake brought something to my attention, and I wanted to explain what is expected of you, living here with us."

  Celina kept her head lowered but raised her eyes to his desk.

  Come on, Celina let me see some of the spark from you, that I know you possess.

  "First off, Prince Joqua sent you here to learn about America. Only to learn. You are free to do what you wish."

  Her face lifted higher, and he smiled.

  "I'm your guardian, but mostly, I hope you think of me as your friend."

  She cocked her head and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Good, she'd given him her attention.

  "You are not here to become my wife, Celina."

  He let her absorb the truth of his words. She remained silent. Only her throat muscles moved, allowing him a glimpse of how scary the thought of marrying him was to her.

  "You are not required to marry anyone. The prince really did want you to come here to learn how other young women lived. To be given the same kind of freedom other women here receive."

  She remained in the same position. A fatherly urge to reach out and gather her into his arms overcame him. "Do you understand what I'm telling you, dear? You can relax and enjoy your life. No one here will tell you how to live your life, and you won't be punished for doing the things you want to do."

  "I don't have to marry you or I'm not good enough to marry a person of your standings?" Celina narrowed her eyes.

  "No, Celina. I'm much too old for you, and I think of you as a daughter. Like your father, I only want you to have the very best life possible. This has nothing to do with being marriageable. You're a beautiful woman any man would be lucky to love...but not me. I'm only your guardian."

  "I can ask all the questions I think of, and you will answer me?"

  Charles nodded enthusiastically. She understood. Good. Now maybe she would eventually come out of the shell placed on her by being an Antakian. "Of course you may. You can ask me anything."

  "I think you should ask Mrs. Stevenson to move in to the house. I think it's unfair of you to leave her, living on her own, without your protection as her husband."

  His hand came up to cover the cough he forced out to hide the grin on his face. When the girl set her mind to something, she turned into a barracuda. Mrs. Stevenson...his wife? That was rich.

  "Mrs. Stevenson likes to live on her own, Celina. She's my housekeeper, not my wife. I pay her to clean my house, do my laundry, and cook for us. It's her job, and as a bonus she gets her own home to live in where she can have her friends over, and her grandchildren can come and visit."

  The woman verily lifted her head to meet his eyes, and sat there with a look of wonder on her face. He'd better tell her. Misconstrued ideas initiated a mess of problems.

  "I was married once before. To Drake's mother, but she died of cancer. I have a wonderful girlfriend now, though. I hope to marry her someday, if I can convince her I'm worthy of one so perfect." Charles sat back in his chair. "That is the difference about America and Antaka. Men only marry one woman at a time. If they are lucky they get to stay married to one special woman for the rest of their life."

  Everything Charles told Celina left her sitting there speechless. He assured himself she now understood. She seemed to be trying to understand the ways of Americans, and he'd given her enough to think about for one day.

  "Have you eaten breakfast?"

  She nodded, staring right at him with her lip caught between her teeth. The wheels in her head seemed to turn. He hoped someday she'd learn to vocalize those questions and satisfy her curiosity.

  "Why don't you find that son of mine and see what he has planned for you today?"

  Celina got up from her chair and took a couple of steps in the direction of the door. She stopped and turned around.

  "Do you have another question?" Charles stood from his chair.

  She shook her head and rushed over, threw her arms around his barrel of a stomach, and hugged him.

  "Thank you, Char
les."

  He wrapped his arms around the petite woman and caressed the back of her head.

  "You're very welcome, my dear."

  Chapter Five

  Celina could have the kind of life where one lived without worrying about what kind of husband her papa picked out for her! It boggled her mind.

  There would be no wedding. Not to Charles, or anyone. No one here would force her to marry. Charles was the kindest person she'd ever met.

  Prince Joqua must love her if he wanted her to have the freedom she'd witnessed upon her arrival to this strange country. She stopped walking. Unless Papa sent her away because she embarrassed him, and thought she'd have an easier time finding a husband in America.

  She stumbled and fell against the wall. Her father, with all his rules and laws, sent her away to get rid of his responsibility to her. Unlike her sisters, he must think it harder to raise her, with her not containing any of the prince's blood in her veins. Her back slid down the wall, and she landed on the floor of the hallway.

  "Celina, what are you doing sitting on the floor?"

  Through the blur of her tears, Celina stared at a pair of legs in front of her. She buried her head in her hands. How pathetic she must appear.

  "Give me your hand."

  She raised her hand, and Drake hauled her to her feet. She let him use his thumb to wipe the tears on her cheek.

  "Did my dad upset you?"

  Celina shook her head. She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand and found the courage to lift her eyes to Drake.

  "No. Your papa is so kind and told me how I misunderstood the arrangement."

  "Then why the tears?"

  Drake reminded her of her brothers, always ready to protect her and solve her problems. Her lower lip trembled at the thought of them.

  "Please don't cry. Tell me what is wrong, and maybe I can make things right again."

  "It's my papa. He must have sent me away because I'm not worthy of an Antakian husband. I'm a disgrace because I have no Antakian blood in here." She thumped her chest with her fist.