Both his companions bowed slightly and grew silent. His mother’s soulful black eyes watched him, reproachful. A twinge of guilt niggled at his conscience.
If not for the Queen Mother, Carvainia would have no Crown Prince Nico, and he would have no son. No one, other than himself, understood the treachery of Sara Presley as well as Mother. She was trying to protect both of her princes as she always had.
Aleksandre closed his eyes tightly for a brief moment to calm his raging spirit. He’d learned in battle to shut out the noise and horror around him and go deep inside to a place of peace where wisdom lived. He did that now, weeding out his own anguish at the thought of seeing Sara Presley again and concentrated instead on saving his child.
Vaguely, he could hear the quiet hush of servants moving about the castle and of nurses moving in and out of Nico’s room. He listened deeper, imagined the sounds of the sea just outside the castle walls.
The sea was his solace and when time allowed he walked the beach to taste the salt spray on his tongue and smell the wind blowing across the great water. Someday he would teach Nico to sail and fish and race his speedboats. He would tell his son stories of the generations of Carvainians who had used the sea for defense and trade and livelihood.
But first, his son must live. And to live, he must have an organ donation. And that could only come from his biological mother.
He took a deep, cleansing breath and opened his eyes, certain now of what he must do.
“You are correct, Mother, when you say that the American woman will not come willingly. I also agree with you, Doctor, that she is our only hope. She must come.” His jaw hardened with resolve. “She will come.”
Queen Irena tossed her head. “You cannot force her. She is not under Carvainian jurisdiction.”
“Not yet.” A sly smile touched his bitter-tasting lips. “But she will be.”
The queen’s eyes widened. “Aleksandre, whatever are you thinking?”
“The American woman will not come to Carvainia for me or even for her son, but she will come if the incentive is great enough.”
“And you will see that it is?”
“I know exactly what matters most to Sara Presley.”
As a prince who’d led men into battle, he knew the importance of strategy and of knowing one’s enemy.
And so a battle plan was forged.
“If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is,” Sara Presley said with a laugh as she unpacked a box of novels for the romance section of The Book Shelf.
“But what if the prize is real, Sara?” Penny Carter, her friend and business partner waved the letter beneath Sara’s nose for the umpteenth time in two days. “What if you’ve really won a fabulous trip to a European health spa—in a castle, no less?”
Sara scoffed. “To win, I would have to enter, right?”
“Well, maybe, but we own a bookstore. What if one of our vendors is rewarding us for outstanding sales?”
“Then you would be included in the trip. And you’re not.” Sara held a new book to her nose and sniffed.
“I love that smell,” she said, trying to direct Penny’s thoughts somewhere besides the goofy award letter. It couldn’t be real. The prize was either a joke, or when she called, they’d ask her to send thousands of dollars or to provide her credit card number. She wasn’t that stupid.
But as she’d done all morning, Penny stayed after her. “What about those contests you signed up for at the fair last month?”
Sara paused in thought, gazing down at a book cover. A shirtless cowboy gave her a sexy grin but she didn’t feel a thing. No matter how sexy or how nice, no man had gotten past her defenses in over five years. She was a strong advocate of “once burned, twice warned.”
“Cassie Binger won a blender at the fair last year,” she mused, “so I guess that’s possible.”
Penny let out a whoop, pounding her index finger at the letter. “Call this number, right now, before I die of curiosity.” She patted a hand over her heart. The letter crinkled against her plaid shirt. “Castle-by-the-Sea Health and Beauty Spa sounds so romantic.”
“The only place I’ll find romance is between the covers of the books we sell. The letter is a scam, Penny. It has to be. My luck ran out a long time ago.” She quickly turned to the wall-high bookshelves.
Penny marched around to her side. Hands on her hips she said, “Sara, listen to me. You’ve spent five years living in the past. Five years haunting the Internet in hopes of finding out who adopted your baby. Five years getting over the jerk who left you.”
Tears welled in Sara’s eyes. Her belly gnawed with emptiness now as it did every time she thought of the infant son she’d lost. And she thought of him constantly. A TV show, a book cover, a child on the street or in the store could send her into a tailspin for days. “Don’t, Penny.”
Penny grasped Sara’s upper arms and pulled her around, her face wreathed in compassion. “Honey, I’m not trying to hurt you. You’re my best friend and I love you like a sister. But I’ve watched you beat yourself up for too long. When life offers sunshine, don’t hide in the shade. You have to move on.”
“I can’t, Penny.” She sniffed. “My baby is out there somewhere. Is he happy and healthy? Does his adoptive mother love him the way I do?”
“You made the right choice. You did what was best for him at the time. Let it go. Move on. Let yourself live again.”
They’d hashed this through hundreds of times and Sara knew Penny was right. Penniless, without family to turn to, and still in college on scholarship, she’d done what she had to in order to secure her baby’s future. “I’m haunted by the thought that if I’d kept him, something would have worked out.”
“If that Aleks jerk had stuck around and been the man you thought he was, things would have worked out. But he didn’t. That’s my point. Life happened. It sucks but it happened. Now, life is happening again in a good way.” She shoved the letter at Sara. “Take a chance, Sara. Go for it. Just this once, let yourself be happy.”
Sara shook her head but took the letter in hand. Penny’s insistence was starting to wear her down. She did need a change. She needed to shake loose from the guilt and loss and depression that had plagued her for too long.
In a feeble attempt to resist, she muttered, “It can’t be true. I wish it was, but I’m not the kind of person who wins fabulous trips to Europe.”
A male voice intruded. “I beg to differ, Miss Presley. If you are indeed Sara Presley, you are our grand prize winner.”
Both women spun toward the tall, imposing figure who had entered the shop. Dressed in a business suit with hair graying at the temples and the smell of intellect coming off him in waves, the man reminded her of a slick television lawyer.
“Who are you?” Sara blurted. “And how do you know about the prize?”
“I am here as executor of the contest, Miss Presley. Since you have not yet called to claim your prize, the owner of the spa felt an official visit was in order to assure you that everything is in order and that our staff eagerly awaits your arrival.”
Sara looked from the man to Penny. Her friend’s eyes were as round as saucers.
“Are you serious?” Sara gestured to the letter. “This is for real?”
“Indeed.” The man moved into the small space behind the cluttered counter and offered Sara a manila envelope. “Inside you will find a brochure detailing the prize, a round-trip ticket and your cash prize.”
“Cash?”