Hearing the slight upward inflection in his voice, she frowned. “I’m a single mother, if that’s what you mean,” she said.
“I’m merely checking facts. No judgment is implied,” he said.
She immediately regretted reacting so defensively. Just because other people had drawn unflattering if inaccurate conclusions about why she was single with a baby, didn’t mean everyone was the same. “I’m tired. Christophe is tired. We’ve had a long flight,” she said by way of mitigation. “I’d like to know what’s going on, Mr.—” she read the brass nameplate at the front of the desk “—Mr. Sancerre.”
The corners of the man’s mouth twitched. “Forgive me for not introducing myself right away. My name is Josquin de Marigny. The airport director, Leon Sancerre, kindly permitted me the use of his office for this meeting.”
Iced water skittered along her spine, as she recalled a fragment of information from the tourist brochures. “De Marigny? Isn’t that…aren’t they…”
“The royal house of Carramer,” he supplied.
She was glad she was already seated. Her knees felt as if they would buckle if she tried to stand. No wonder everyone had deferred to him. What on earth was going on here? “Are you the king?” she asked in a strangled voice.
He shook his head. “By tradition, Carramer has no king. Our present ruler is Prince Lorne de Marigny, my cousin,” he added before she could frame the question. “I serve as an adviser to Prince Henry de Valmont, ruler of Valmont Province. According to these documents, Valmont is your destination.”
She was too busy dealing with her confusion, to absorb the details. “Look, Mr….that is, Your Highness, I won this vacation in a contest, and the destination was Valmont Province. I had no say in it, although from all accounts it’s one of the most beautiful parts of Carramer. But I’d still like to know what you want with me.”
“Ah yes, the contest. Did it not occur to you to wonder how you came to be so fortunate?”
“When you haven’t had a vacation in two years, and a radio station calls to say a computer has awarded you a trip to a fairy-tale South Pacific kingdom, and all the documentation arrives in your mailbox as promised, you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
She felt her heart sink as the obvious thought occurred to her. “Are you trying to say I didn’t win a contest? Was it some kind of hoax? Is that why you had me removed from the line?”
He shook his head. “You’re right, there was no contest. I arranged for the call to be made as a way to bring you to Carramer.”
Clutching Christophe tightly to her, she struggled upright, so disappointed that she hadn’t won a trip after all that she didn’t care whom she offended. Prince or not, he had no right to play with her life. “I don’t know what’s going and I don’t care anymore, but I’m calling the police. I’m sure this is against some law or other even in Carramer.”
With all the grace and speed of a leopard, the prince moved to her side, urging her to sit down again. This time, he took a seat beside her, keeping his hand on her arm. “Hear me out first, then you may do whatever you feel you must, although the American police won’t be much help now you’re on Carramer soil.”
“Am I a prisoner here?”
“The opposite in fact. You belong here as much as I do.”
She felt the floor drop away beneath her feet and was glad of his touch to anchor her in reality. She had dreamed of this moment for nearly two years, yet suddenly she felt afraid. “Do you know who I am?”
He paused long enough for her heart to begin a frantic tattoo. “I believe so.”
She could hardly breathe for the tension coiling through her. She tightened her hold on Christophe. “Tell me,” she implored in a voice barely above a whisper.
The prince’s firm grip on her other arm sent a silent message of support. “My searches suggest that you are a citizen of Carramer.”
“You mean I was born here?”
“No, you were born in America.”
“Then how can I…”
“There are a few minor details to be confirmed, but I’m already sure I have the right woman.”
“The right woman for what?” She may not be who she had grown up thinking she was, the child of James McInnes, the well-known Californian property developer, and his artist wife, Rose, but she didn’t think she was from anywhere like Carramer, either.
“You do know you were adopted soon after your birth?” the prince prompted.
Her voice came out as a strangled whisper. “I found out when I had a blood test for a persistent virus two years ago. The hospital said I couldn’t possibly be my father’s child. At first I thought my mother might have had 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