Prince and Single Mom (16 page)

Philip approached the table, with a reluctant and somewhat petulant Catharine.

Jamie’s “Hi Mom. Hi Philip,” tinkled like the strings of a viola in this strange orchestra.

Philip’s serious, “Papa, I want you to meet my Kate. Oh…Hannah…you know my father?” sounded more like the clang of cymbals than actual words.

Even the pounding of running feet, of Michael’s softly spoken curse as he and their security chief reached the table added to the strange symphony they all seemed to be performing together.

But Alex didn’t acknowledge any of them. It was Hannah’s face he focused on, and Hannah’s reaction that concerned him. Watching, he saw the slow straightening of her spine, the understanding that moved across her face. His sinking sensation deepened, and for the first time in his life, he thought he might not mind a sudden hole swallowing him up. But the time for hiding, for changing the subject—in short, the time for
prevarication—
had ended. He inhaled deeply, bracing for whatever came next.

“He called you ‘Father’,” she finally said. “That would make you the king?”

“It would.”

“I see. And while you had me in your bed, numerous times, I might add, this wasn’t a fact you felt necessary to impart to me?”

Alex winced, and could only be grateful that Hannah spoke so quietly that only those gathered around the table—four adults who made a passable screen against any interested onlookers—could hear. But that turned out to be bad enough.

“Uh, oh.
Mais
, n
on
. Papa.” That tone of pity belonged to Philip.

“Oh my God!” Catharine gasped, or as his son called her, Kate.

“Son of a
bitch
.” His security chief, and a sudden realization in
that
area just made a bizarre situation totally ridiculous.

“I should have told you.” He addressed only Hannah. “I’m sorry. I wanted to, truly. I intended to. Tonight.” He fell silent, overcome by the sensation that what he said was far too little, and way too late.

For a long moment, she simply stared at him. The hurt that ghosted across her face struck at his heart. He began to understand that his omission had been a bigger mistake than he’d realized.

Tilting her head to the side, Hannah smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile at all. “Well, no wonder I didn’t recognize you. You’re not wearing your crown,
Your Majesty
. Here, why don’t I help you with that?”

It took him a moment to understand what she meant to do. By then, it was too late. Snatching up the bright copper-tinted bowl containing the rest of their dinner, she up-ended it over his head.

Other than gasps from the staff and one or two other resort guests, Jamie’s shocked “Grandma!” and what sounded suspiciously like choked-off laughter from his sons and Catharine, there was deadly silence for a long moment.

“Good news, Papa. The lady does not seem to be intimidated by your title after all.” That over-cheerful comment came from Michael.

“Good shot, Mom. A definite statement, if ever I saw one. ”

Alex watched her jolt, turn to the tall blond man who stood beside his oldest son. The sheen of hurt and temper on her face transformed into an expression of dawning joy. It was something, Alex thought as pasta dripped from his head and over his face, to be grateful for.

“Oh my God!
Peter
!”

“Welcome to Boisdemer, Mother.”

“If you’d been anybody else, I’d have to make an arrest for assault on the person of the king.”

Hannah stopped in the middle of the sitting room in her suite and turned to face her youngest son.

“That’s a fine thing to say to your mother after all these years.”

“It was either that or, of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world…”

She went to him, put her arms around him, and laughed. But after a moment her laughter turned to tears again, and she clung to him all the more tightly. He held her just as close, and she thought his voice sounded strained as he kept saying, “I’m sorry,” over and over again.

“I always knew the day would come when I’d see you again. Now, stop apologizing. You followed your own path, also something I always knew you’d have to do. I’m sorry, if I somehow made you feel as if your father’s heart attack had been your fault. It wasn’t, darling.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mom. You
neve
r gave me that impression. I manufactured the guilt all on my own.”

Hannah stepped out of his arms and wiped her tears. She realized they weren’t alone. Giselle hovered by the door, wringing her hands, as she had been since they entered the suite.

Peter must have noticed her discomfort, for he looked at the maid and spoke softly to her in French. Whatever he said had her relaxing, and going to the kitchen area.

“We’ll have tea, and you can tell me how you came to be here. And I think, for the moment, I’ll forget that part about you being in Alex’s bed.”

“You call him Alex?”

“At his insistence. Long story.”

Hannah reached over and caressed his arm, unable to resist the temptation to simply touch him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She waited until Giselle had set the tea tray down. “Could you leave us, please?”

“Of course,
madame
.”

When the door had closed, she smiled at her son. “I’ll pour, you talk.”

“From the beginning, then. After I left home, I went to Toronto, then on to Montreal. I worked at whatever odd jobs I could find. Then I signed on to a cruise ship line. Worked for a year, ended up in London. There I was hired by a security company, and learned the ins and outs of that industry. Had a few interesting adventures. Then, one night about four years ago, I wandered into a pub. There’s this fancy pants tourist with a French accent and the word ‘trout’ written across his forehead. He’d ventured onto the wrong side of the wharf, if you know what I mean. And, I don’t know, I felt sorry for the guy. He thought he could handle the thugs bent on separating him from his money, and messing with his pretty-boy looks. He couldn’t, so I stepped in and gave him a hand. The tourist turned out to be His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Michael of Boisdemer. My security company boss fired me for getting involved in a pub brawl while on an undercover assignment. Michael’s father, grateful I saved his son’s life, hired me.”

Hannah sat back with her cup of tea, and considered the man her middle child had grown to be. The years they’d been apart revealed themselves in the contours of his face, not altogether unkindly. He had more muscle than she remembered, and held up better under her parental scrutiny than he used to.

That she had found him here and now, when all she wanted to do—selfishly—was run away home, could only be chalked up as one of life’s little cosmic jokes.

“I think you told me the extremely edited, condensed PG version.”

“You’re my mother. Of course I told you the condensed PG version.”

Laughing felt good.

“Okay, I can’t forget it,” Peter said. “What did you say about being in Alex’s bed?”

“You’re my son, and you can
damn
sure bet you’ve already had the condensed PG version of that.”

“All right, we’ll table that for now. Was that Catharine with Philip? What’s the story there?”

“Hell, in all this mess I forgot about her. Where did she and Jamie go?”

“Jamie?”

“Your nephew.”

“Oh. The kid.” A look of shock crossed his face. “They, ah, went with Michael and Philip to Alex’s suite.”

Hannah looked away from Peter for a moment. Funny how, in all the excitement, she’d forgotten about Catharine and Philip arriving in the dining room. Closing her eyes, she pulled the argument the two had been having from her memory.

“Another long story. But I think Philip wants to marry your sister.”

* * * *

“My mom’s pretty upset. I should go be with her.” Catharine stood scowling at the man pouring drinks. Philip had hastily introduced him as his brother Michael, just before he hurried off to help his father get de-pasta-fied.

Michael handed her a glass of wine. “Why not let your brother have a few minutes of her time, Catharine? You’ve had her for the past ten years. He has not.”

“And whose fault is that?” She knew she sounded pissy. She felt pissy. Actually, she felt like a traitor in the enemy camp. Looking around, she couldn’t see her son. Her eyes flew open wide.
My God
,
what kind of a mother am I? I completely forgot about my son.

“Where’s Jamie?”

“He is in the second bedroom, watching a cartoon about a moose and a squirrel, and laughing uproariously.”

Catharine felt herself soften against his smile, when she’s promised herself she wouldn’t give these royal men
any
quarter. Philip had pulled her into one hell of a mess, and then left her here to deal with it alone. He’d deserted her, the rat!
And didn’t that just go to prove that men could not be trusted!

A bedroom door opened, and Alex and Philip stepped into the room. Alex nodded to Michael, then faced Catharine.

“I owe you an apology as well, my dear,” he said quietly, “and an explanation.”

What was it about the men in this family that totally disarmed her? Why couldn’t she hang on to her usual hard-ass attitude around
any
of them? “That’s funny, because I’m torn between twin desires to apologize for what my mother did to you—and to wish I’d helped her.”

Alex laughed, and he motioned to the sofa. “Please, come and sit down.”

She did, and waited while Michael served his father a glass of wine. Philip took a seat beside her, and when he reached for her hand, she let him hold it.

“I never set out to deceive
anyone
. I come here each year, and while the staff knows who I am, the guests, who are mostly from other countries, do not. Usually, I keep to myself, and use the time to rest and read, swim or go on walks. I never socialize, or rather, I didn’t, until this year.” He sat back against the sofa, his expression earnest, and a bit baffled and sad.

She reminded herself that until she’d discovered him to be Philip’s father, and the king of Boisdemer, she’d liked Alex—a lot. Why should that change because of a label? Hadn’t she lived most of the last six years deeply resenting the way she’d been treated because of a label?

“I was so happy when I realized you and Mom had found each other. She’s never dated, not once, since my dad died. Do you understand that she has strong feelings for you? She hasn’t discussed them with me, but I can see them in her eyes. I also know that she’s very hurt right now. Honesty has always been a huge thing with her.” Catharine paused as Jamie came out of the bedroom. When he sandwiched himself between her and Philip, she let go Philip’s hand to hold her son’s. Surprisingly, Jamie took her hand but laid his head against Philip’s side. That Philip accepted his gesture of affection, and put a protective arm around him, surprised her even more.

“I know,” Alex said. “I have feelings for her, too, Catharine. Feelings that are deep, and honorable. I’m going to work at making things right between us.”

“You don’t owe me any more explanations, Your Majesty.”

“Please—when we are alone, or among family, I would be grateful if you would call me Alex. Or,” his eyes twinkled when he looked at Jamie and Philip, “Papa.”

The door to the suite slammed. “Well, if she doesn’t want any further explanations, I’ll take them.”

Catharine’s head turned sharply so she could look at her brother. “You!”

Surging to her feet she marched right up to him and poked him in the chest hard. “I promised myself that if I ever saw you again I would punch you right in the damn face! You had a hell of a nerve taking off and hurting mom that way!”

“Well, you’re certainly entitled, baby sister. So go ahead, give it your best shot.”

He stood there, so Catharine pulled her arm back.

“No, Mommy! You said hitting was never ever right! You said!” Jamie had jumped up and tugged on her other arm. The men of the de la Croix family proved their intelligence in that moment by staying out of it.

She looked down at her son, and placed a hand on his head. “You’re right, Jamie. Hitting is never right.”

“So hug me instead,” her brother said, opening his arms.

She looked at him a long moment before taking one step forward. This was her brother, someone who’d hovered in her memory for years. In many ways a stranger, but family none-the-less.

The strength of his embrace surprised her.

“Who are you?” Jamie asked.

Catharine looked down and saw the protective and suspicious stance her son had taken.
He’s growing up so fast
.

“I’m your Uncle Peter. It’s nice to meet you, Jamie.”

“The black sheep.” Jamie’s awed whisper, loud enough for all to hear, proved much more effective than a punch in the face.

“Yeah,” Peter replied, shooting his sister a considering look, “I guess I am.”

“Well,” Alex stood, “we seem to have managed to come to a point of calm.” His expression, when he looked at Peter, made Catharine suspect he respected him, maybe even thought of him as another son.

“How is your mother?”

“Emotional. And not too happy with you at the moment. Sir.”

“I can imagine.”

“Jamie and I need to go see to her.” Catharine needed to get out of this testosterone-laden area. She wanted to retreat, try to find her defenses, and erect them again.

“Kate, you and I…”

“No. Philip, I can’t…not now, okay?”

“If not now, when? In case you haven’t noticed, no one is planning on—how did you say it? —running you out of town on a rail.” He’d come up off the sofa and taken one step toward her. Peter, she noticed, took a step to the side, as if he intended to protect her. And wasn’t that a joke?