an affair, but then I discovered that I didn’t belong to her, either.”
“Surely a birth certificate was required when you obtained your passport?”
“That was an excellent forgery, too, although I didn’t know it.” She had obtained her passport for a vacation in Europe to celebrate her graduation. She hadn’t known the truth about herself then, and had never doubted that her documents were authentic. Her adoptive parents’ wealth had its uses, she had concluded. If it could buy them a child, obtaining false documentation for her was a minor detail.
“You were never told the circumstances of your birth?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t want me to know I was adopted. When I found out, and wanted to look for my birth parents, James refused to help me. He said I would have to choose between them and him.” Her voice cracked. “He reminded me of all they had done for me, and told me I should let the past lie. Do you know what that past might be?”
The prince nodded. “What I have to tell you may take some time, and I would prefer a more appropriate setting.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?”
“It would be better if you weren’t glancing at your watch every few minutes.”
She had been unaware she was doing it. “Christophe needs to be fed and changed and put down for a nap,” she said. Not to mention that she needed rest herself. His suggestion that he could tell her about her background had temporarily banished her own tiredness, but it would catch up with her later, she knew.
“Then I will escort you to your accommodation,” he said as indecision gripped her. “We can continue our discussion after you attend to your child.”
She thought of the contrast between his life as a prince, and hers as a single mother. “I hope you’re prepared for a culture shock,” she said shakily.
He looked amused. “Prince Lorne has two young children, as does his brother Michel and their sister, Princess Adrienne. I’ve had ample practice at taking care of my cousins’ babies.”
“Don’t princes have servants to take care of the less pleasant chores?”
He hesitated before saying, “Some do.”
But not him, she heard the implication. Why not? Was he a modern royal who preferred to do things himself? Given his personal intervention in her affairs, it seemed so. She curbed her impatience. “Why can’t you just tell me what you know?”
“There is every chance that you will refuse to believe me. I need time to convince you to trust me.”
Oddly enough she was inclined to do so already, she realized, wondering at the same time why she did. It wasn’t because he was a prince. She’d read enough about royalty to know they suffered from the same human weaknesses as everyone else. Something about Prince Josquin himself inspired her trust.
As he used the phone to summon a car for them, she watched him in fascination. He was obviously accustomed to being in a position of power. She saw it in the relaxed way he gave orders, as if he expected them to be obeyed. Without question.
Her gaze was riveted by the way he rested a muscular thigh on the edge of the desk, letting one leg swing free. He looked like a man who was comfortable with his position in life, she thought. Since she had no idea what her position in life was, having had all her assumptions turned on their heads by the discovery that she was adopted, she couldn’t help envying the prince his air of self-assurance.
His eyes were half closed, veiling their unusual color under a sweep of lashes that matched the blue-black of his hair. His lean, aristocratic features had probably taken generations of breeding to achieve such a prepossessing result. Her heart picked up speed again. What kind of breeding had produced her?
The prince knew the answer but she sensed he wouldn’t tell her until he judged the time was right. She saw intrigue in the gaze he turned on her as he dealt with the call. Intrigue and something far more disquieting, a fire she had last seen in a man’s eyes the night Christophe had been conceived. Recalling the life-changing impact of that experience, she felt her internal temperature soar. She fussed with Christophe’s clothes, not wanting Josquin to see how badly his gaze had unsettled her.
He barely knew her. Then she thought of the thick file in the prince’s possession. He must know a lot more about her than she did about him. More than she knew about herself, come to that.
Her first clear memory was of her third birthday party at the McInnes home in Southern California. Brendan, the boy next door, had taken her red balloon and burst it in her face when she asked for it back. She was wary of balloons to this day. She had been an above-average student and model daughter, bowing to her father’s wish that she attend a local college so she could continue to live at home.
She was twenty-seven and a Libran, celebrating her birthday on September 29, as far as she knew. Now she wondered if she could trust anything she had been told about herself all her life.
She still felt like the same person inside. Still the same stubborn, opinionated, deliver-on-your-promises woman she’d always been. Three-year-old Brendan had found out to his cost when she threatened to punch his nose if he didn’t return her balloon. He had burst it so she had punched his nose. She had spent time standing in the corner afterward, but the pattern had been set. She still did what she said she would do, no matter what it cost her.
A shiver took her. She felt more adrift now than when she had learned of her adoption. The prince had no right to make her wait for information that concerned her so intimately. But as a grown woman, she could hardly threaten to punch him in the nose, so she schooled herself to patience. She had a feeling he wasn’t a man she could hurry into anything.
“How did you know I was arriving today?” she asked as Josquin opened the door to escort her to the car. Stupid question, she thought. He had obviously arranged everything. She was still shaken to discover that the vacation she thought she’d won was nothing more than a hoax, but she wasn’t as furious with him as she thought she should be.
“I was waiting for you,” he confirmed. At his slight gesture, a porter sprang to their side. At the prince’s quiet instruction, the man retrieved her suitcase and carried it away. She watched him go with some trepidation, realizing that she had placed herself and her child entirely in the prince’s hands.
Christophe had dozed off at last, not waking as they left the airport building. He slept with his head on her shoulder, one thumb anchored in his mouth and the other clutching a fistful of her shirt. With any luck he wouldn’t stir until they reached their hotel, if that’s where the prince was taking her.
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to get me here. I must be somebody important,” she said, striving for lightness and failing. “Why did you have to lure me to Carramer to speak to me?”
“Because we are running out of time.”
“You know you’re driving me crazy?”
His stern mouth softened into a slight curve. “I can’t say I mind having that effect on such a beautiful woman.”
She resisted the urge to feel complimented. “I’ll bet you say that to lots of women.”
“Would it surprise you if I deny it?”
She
