Page 54 of Landen

“I have to.”She smiled whimsically. “My heart is at stake.”

“Oh, honey, hisparents-”

“Will notaccept me.” She gulped the wine. “I am aware. I am anAfrican American and do not possess an ounce of royal blood.”She drank some more. “I did not choose this; I never expectedanything like this to happen. He called me and said his dad is in acoma.”

“Oh, my Lord.Which means-”

“He might dieor be in a coma for months. And it also means that Landen is forcedto stay. He did not say that, but I know what it means.”

Ever since he toldher about the coma, she had been in a sense of unreality. He was theonly son and heir, and his duty was to steer the ship. His mother andsister would need him. She was trying to accept that.

“And I might bepregnant,” she added dully.

“Tessa-”

“No.” Sheshook her head. “I am hoping I am.”

“Because itwould force him to marry you?”

“No.”She repeated with a smile. “Because I would have something ofhim with me.”

“Honey, you arenot thinking straight. This man-”

“His name isLanden!” She closed her eyes at the look on her sister’sface. “I am sorry.”

Lunging toher feet, she went to pour some more wine. “Oh, Karen, I amsuch a mess. I miss him so much that it’s like a physicalache.” She came and sat back down. “How the hell am Igoing to survive without him? And what if he does not come back? Whatam I going to do?”

“You go tohim,” Karen said firmly. “Give him time and then ask himwhat he is about, and you go to him.”

*****

His body had becomeaccustomed to US time, and he could not fall asleep. But he knew itwas not that. He was thinking about her, missing her. He had spentweeks sleeping with her beside him, and it had become a habit.

Her flawless skinpressed against him. He was on the balcony, smoking. His mother hadcalled and demanded that he present himself at the manor first thingin the morning to discuss what they needed to do.

“You are theman of the family now.”

He would also have togo into the office and attend meetings. Leaning his head back, hewatched the smoke curl upwards, his eyes squinting. He hated hisresponsibility, the fact that he was the only son, and the fact thathe was not free to do as he pleased. She should be with him, and heshould be able to choose his bride.

He needed her withhim and felt such an acute sense of loss that was potent. Stubbingout the cigar, he sat up and dragged his fingers through his hair. Itwas almost eleven for him, which made it around six for her. Was shesleeping? He wondered achingly. He had kept her up; was it only lastnight? It seemed so much longer.

Reaching for hisphone, he dialed her number and felt relief when she answeredimmediately.

“You aresupposed to be asleep.” He reminded her tenderly.

“I could saythe same about you. What are you doing?”

“Hanging out onmy balcony. I tried to drink an entire bottle of scotch, but it’snot working. I miss you. I believe I told you that already.”

“I like to hearyou say it.”

“What are youdoing?”

“Making tea.”

“You are makingtea?” He asked in amusement. “Don’t tell me that Imanaged to rub off on you the weeks I was there.”

“You did.Significantly.”

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