§ § § -- February 10, 1999
Downstairs in the study, Leslie had just entered the house from completing a few errands that had absolutely had to be run, and stopped short in the middle of the study when she saw H.R. descending the stairs. H.R. paused two-thirds of the way down when he in turn spotted her. "Where were you?" he asked.
"Handling some essentials. What were you doing here, torturing Father? I actually heard him shout at you," Leslie said, eyeing him with enormous distrust.
H.R. cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. "I only wished to reacquaint myself with him," he said.
"If that's Father's reaction, then I don't think very much of your idea of getting reacquainted," Leslie said, going to the computer and bringing up the e-mail account that had been set up for business purposes. "I'm going to have to check on him."
"Don't bother," said H.R., watching her sign into the account and scan the accumulated messages. "He's asleep, I should think. What are you about over there?"
"E-mail," Leslie replied. She went still when she noticed Christian's name among the dozens of them waiting for responses, and sat heavily in the chair at the computer desk, her head falling into her hand. "Oh God, I forgot about Christian…"
"Christian who?" H.R. came down the remaining steps and paused behind the chair, peering over her shoulder at the e-mail. She had left the cursor on the sender's name, so that it was highlighted in red, making it stand out from the other names in dark blue and easily pointing out the message in question. "Well, well, well. None other than Prince Christian of Lilla Jordsö, eh?" He straightened then and snapped his fingers, as if having just recalled something important. "Oh, that's right! The same prince who's married to Marina, younger sister of the late Paola." Leslie sat up and twisted in her chair to stare warily at him. "I know the whole story. Paola herself spilled everything before she died. She was positively outraged that her brother-in-law loves you rather than his own wife."
"Are you really sure you know the whole story?" Leslie wanted to know, rising to meet him on an equal level. "If you heard it all from Paola, then you got a hopelessly biased version of it. What do you know?"
H.R. studied her with interest for a moment or two before shrugging in a falsely magnanimous manner and offering, "Well, I've plenty of time, it would seem. Do tell; I'd like very much to hear this tangled little saga. You're quite correct; all I know is what Paola said, which essentially is that Christian loves the wrong woman."
"Christian and I fell in love several years ago when he came here to set up the island website," Leslie told him. "His brother was already trying to push him into an arranged marriage with Marina, but Christian demanded that he back off and pursued his romance with me. He asked me to marry him and I accepted, and he went back to Lilla Jordsö to break the news and start whatever proceedings were necessary to relinquish his right to the title of prince. That was when he found out that the king, his brother, had married him to Marina in absentia, honoring some deal their father had made with Marina's years ago in order that the royal family could continue to obtain a regular supply of amakarna. I didn't know about that till Christian and Marina managed to talk the king into allowing them to have their wedding reception here on the island—Christian deliberately set it up that way so he could tell me what had really happened. Marina came to Father and me the next day and explained that she was dying of the bone-eating disease, and asked me to wait for Christian, because she knew there was no cure. Father told me as much after she'd left." She narrowed her eyes at H.R. "Speaking of the cure…do you have some grudge against all your people, not just Father, that you refuse to reveal the big secret?"
But H.R. was staring at her curiously. "You are yet in love with the prince, I take it?"
Leslie felt her face redden a bit, but nodded determinedly. "I told both him and Marina I'd wait for him. Christian and I love each other very much…and it's my understanding that Marina's in love with someone else too. Their marriage is based on nothing more than a business contract."
H.R. shifted his stance and leaned against the front of Roarke's desk, resting one ankle over the other, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling in a pseudo-friendly way that immediately raised Leslie's suspicions. "I see, I see. A very intriguing situation here. If you love the man, then why did you react as you did to seeing a message from him?"
Leslie rolled her eyes. "Good grief, you're nosy. Didn't your mother ever teach you that's rude? If you have to know, he got back a few weeks early from a royal-duty trip, and I don't know what to tell him about everything that's been going on around here lately."
"The truth, naturally," H.R. said, sounding puzzled. "Explain to him that Paola was here, tell him she infected your father…" His voice trailed off and he leaned forward from the waist, as if scrutinizing Leslie with new inspiration. "Tell me something. Just how badly do you want your prince, Leslie? How long are you prepared to wait for him before you grow tired of it and decide to move on?"
She frowned, tensing, her guard up. "What're you driving at?"
"You've been pushing for the cure," H.R. said, gazing intently at her. "But consider the outcome of your sad little romance story. All you have to do is wait a little longer, and in time Christian's wife will die of her disease and you'll have him at last. Has that occurred to you? If you love him that much, and if you truly want to be married to him one day and have a life with him, why insist on the cure?"
Leslie fell back into the chair, her knees giving way beneath her. It was as if he was rummaging around in her brain, stealing her very thoughts. "What damn difference does it make?" she said. "You're not giving out the cure anyway, on account of some idiotic vendetta you have against Father. It's really all academic. But damn you, you don't understand love at all. I might get Christian, sure—but I'd lose Father. And there is absolutely no way on earth I could possibly survive that. I've lost everyone else in some way or another. Father's all the family I have left. He gave me everything when my world imploded twenty years ago, and I owe him my life. I call him Father because the man I was born to regarded me as a tremendous cross he had to bear. Your cousin stepped in and became the father I should have had." She focused on H.R. and concluded through a haze of tears, "It's not worth it. I'd rather tell Christian and Marina there's a cure, and lengthen my wait for him indefinitely, than have to endure Father's death." So saying, she turned resolutely back to the computer, brought up Christian's message and began to reply, typing fast and furiously, telling him everything. H.R. watched her for a couple of minutes, till he was convinced that she truly meant every word she had said; then he silently departed the house, his mind churning.
Christian, my love,
I'm sorry I've delayed my reply to you...crazy things have been happening here in the last few weeks. I hope you're sitting down, because there's so much to say, and most of it is incredible. I know about Marina's sister's death. In fact, just before it happened, she was here on Fantasy Island. It seems Paola was once Father's assistant –- his last one before I returned home as a recent widow. He had just let her go from the position and I saw her as she was rushing to the plane dock. That was almost nine years ago; last month she came back, completely surprising Father. From the beginning she seemed to have some hold over him. Marina is right about the demons that plagued her. She had some twisted agenda that called for murdering me and controlling Father's mind so that she could get whatever it was she wanted. I won't go into all the details here, but suffice it to say that Paola and Marina are Father's people...he didn't elaborate on that, but I take it to mean that they have at least some of the same mental abilities that Father has. Fortunately, Father and I together managed to defeat her, and Father banished her from the island.
It seems that she retreated to another remote island -– one run by his cousin, a certain H.R. Roarke. That's where she apparently died of the disease that Marina has. It wasn't till after Paola was gone that we discovered she managed to pass the disease on to Father. We didn't know what was afflicting him till a fellow named Rogan Callaghan came here. Julie and I were struggling to make a success of a couple of fantasies, because Father was bedridden by then and couldn't do it himself. Rogan bailed us out, then stepped right in and enlightened us as to what Father had. Then he shocked me completely. Christian, my love, are you ready for this? Rogan says there's a cure for the bone-eating disease.
Yes, a cure. But the only person who knows what it actually is is H.R. Roarke: Father's cousin and Rogan's dad. And for some reason, he refuses to tell anyone what it is. He's caught up in some imaginary rivalry with Father, holds some ridiculous grudge against him for who knows what reason, and won't reveal the secret. Just now he suggested that if he continues to withhold the cure, you and I could be together in the foreseeable future. But that would mean letting Father die, and I simply can't allow it. I love you, Christian, I truly do. But I love Father too, and it would very likely kill me to lose him.
I might anyway, of course. The whole thing is academic until and unless we get the cure out of H.R. Believe me, my love, if we do, I'll tell you and Marina straightaway. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't: it just wouldn't be right. I hope you'll understand. I love you, Christian, please always remember that.
My love always, Leslie
She hit the send button, watched the message vanish from the screen and be replaced by a confirmation notice, then dropped her head onto the desk and broke down. For a long time Leslie hunched there sobbing, alone and unnoticed by anyone else.
‡ ‡ ‡
Rogan came for Julie shortly before five-thirty that evening and drove her jeep to the pond restaurant, where at his request they were given a table that overlooked the water. A pair of swans drifted lazily in the middle of the pond, and Julie watched them dreamily. "Don't swans mate for life? Or is that geese?" she mused.
Rogan chuckled. "I don't remember either," he admitted. "What do you like here? I've not eaten here before, so I don't know what's good."
"Everything's good," Julie assured him. "Pick whatever appeals to you and just enjoy it. Me…I think I'm going to have the shrimp scampi. I don't get to eat much seafood."
"You should put it on the menu," Rogan said. "You can cook just about everything, I must tell you. No wonder your B&B is always full." Julie beamed at him.
"That's sweet, Rogan, thank you! I'm thinking of trying this new muffin recipe I found online," she said and chattered for a while, even while the waiter came and took their orders. Rogan propped his chin on his fist and watched her with a little smile, listening contentedly to her animated narrative. He grew crazier about her all the time; she was so full of life and enthusiasm, and her heart was that of an eager little girl, constantly popping out through the adult façade she normally wore for her guests. She had truly enchanted him, in a way he'd never been before, and he didn't want to walk away, ever.
He kept looking at her even after their orders arrived and they were well into the meal. At first Julie seemed unaware, but she started sneaking glances at him and catching him watching her every time. At last she centered her gaze on his and returned the silly smile he'd been wearing the entire time. "I hope I'm not getting a zit or a wart on my nose," she kidded, and Rogan laughed loudly, turning heads.
"No, no, Julie lass, you're simply beautiful…and you're priceless," he said, his voice softening. "You know, these few days with you have opened up something lovely to me. I can't remember ever knowing this feeling before." He reached across the table, caught her hand in his and said, "I love you, Julie MacNabb. I've fallen deep and hard and fast, and I'll never get back out again. I don't ever want to. Not only am I in love with you, but I want you as my wife. Will you make my night, Julie lass, and agree to marry me?"
Julie's hand drifted to her mouth and her eyes strained to match the dinner plates for sheer size. "This isn't a dream, is it?" she breathed, barely audible, as if afraid speaking in a normal voice would cause it all to end.
"If so, we're having the same dream, my sweet lass," Rogan assured her, grinning.
"It sure feels like a dream," Julie admitted guilelessly. "The first time I saw you when you walked into the main house, I felt this…magnetism. I wanted more than anything to get to know you and I was hoping something might grow out of it. I love you too, Rogan, and it would be the greatest pleasure of my entire life to be your wife!"
Rogan's laugh this time was one of celebration, and without further ado he turned to the assembled diners. "Ladies and gentlemen, I've just received the greatest gift ever. This lovely lady has consented to marry me!" The other patrons applauded, and Julie giggled, turning red but plainly enjoying the attention. Rogan bowed, evoking laughter, and Julie yanked at his arm.
"Sit down, you nut," she chortled. "I can't believe this is happening! Oh, wait till I tell uncle and Leslie! They need some good news."
Rogan looked suddenly worried. "Do you think he'll let me remain on the island, Julie, my sweet lass? Considering who my father is…"
"Don't be silly," Julie said promptly. "You're not your father, Rogan, and they both know that. If they do say anything, I'll tell them it's my prerogative—you're my choice of a husband, and they'll just have to accept it." She grinned; then her mood changed and she rested one elbow on the table, dropping her chin onto the heel of her hand and studying his face. "I've got some wine at my house. You want to split it with me?"
"Thought you'd never ask," said Rogan and arose, catching her hand and bringing her up along with him. At the entrance they settled the bill, then drove back to Julie's house, where in the rosy light of sunset they paused at the back door and kissed. It went on for so long that eventually one of Julie's guests saw them and released a piercing wolf whistle that jangled their eardrums and broke them apart. The sunset had faded to advancing twilight and the brightest stars had already popped out.
They stared at each other, a little breathless with their growing need for each other, eyes gleaming and a little wild. "Forget the wine," Rogan said hoarsely. "Just let me share your bed with you this night, Julie, my sweet lass. You make me drunk all by yourself."
"You took the words right out of my mouth," Julie mumbled, kissed him, then shoved at the door. They stumbled inside, fell against it with their mouths fused again, and got jarred apart once more when the door crashed shut. One look was all they needed to run upstairs and barricade themselves in Julie's bedroom.