Her eyes began to sting again, though she would swear there couldn’t be any more tears left to fall. Last night she’d called a taxi and quietly left the house through her terrace door as soon as she could dress. Getting over the fence around the property hadn’t been as easy as it might have been normally, but she’d managed it and then checked into a motel for what was left of the night. She’d cried endlessly into a pillow and risen at dawn to stare vacantly at the television until a decent hour arrived and she could place a call to Catalina.
Sam Flynn had been noncommittal on the telephone, but he’d agreed to meet with her. So after a hasty shower she’d rented this car, complete with driver this time. She would accomplish what she and her sisters had really come to the States to do—find their brother—and then she’d go home.
To Wynborough.
Even if Wynborough didn’t feel like “home” anymore, it was a better place than most to raise her child… Rafe’s child. Her breath caught, and she turned the sob into a cough. She’d already alarmed the driver once when he’d looked in the mirror and seen the tears flowing down her cheeks. So now she wore the dark glasses and told herself to buck up, quit sniffling. After all, she was a princess. She had an obligation to present herself well in public.
Samuel N. Flynn was an attorney-at-law, according to the listing in the telephone
book. Since it was a Tuesday morning, she’d called his office and been lucky enough to find him in.
Now, as the car pulled to a stop in front of the sign announcing Flynn’s business, situated in a professional building, she stepped out and mentally closed the door on all thoughts other than the task at hand.
A receptionist sat busily working at a keyboard in the waiting room. Elizabeth announced herself simply as she had on the phone, as Elizabeth Wyndham, and the woman disappeared down a long hallway. A moment later, she reappeared and invited Elizabeth to follow her.
The attorney sat behind an enormous desk which held a small assortment of objets d’art and a larger collection of neat stacks of files in rows across the top of the desk. He rose when she entered and courteously came around the desk to shake her hand and offer her a seat as the receptionist retreated to her post.
“Miss Wyndham. A pleasure to meet you. Now tell me how I can help you with this ‘urgent matter’ you mentioned on the phone this morning.” Sam Flynn had thick, wavy brown hair and a strong jaw with a dimple in his cheek. A good-looking man in a rough, tough way that went with the broad shoulders beneath his conventional white shirt. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. Piercing, blue and compelling, they reminded her of Rafe’s eyes, and she felt her composure falter as Rafe’s beloved features appeared in her mind once more.
“Ah, Mr. Flynn, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
“Sam, please, Miss Wyndham.” He leaned forward to look pointedly at her ring finger, grinning mischievously. “It is Miss, isn’t it?”
“Um, actually, it’s Princess.” She was wearing an unrevealing pantsuit this morning and the handsome attorney must not have noticed her pregnancy. But she found herself completely unable to respond to his lighthearted flirtation; the comment only made her want to burst into tears again. “My father is King Phillip of Wynborough.”
“Good God.” Sam Flynn looked mildly thunderstruck. He assessed her expression. “You aren’t kidding, are you?” Then his face sobered and he leaned back against the edge of his desk, crossing his ankles and folding muscular arms over his chest in a manner that made her fear for the seams at the shoulders of his shirt. “Now you’ve really got me curious. What’s going on?”
“Are you the Samuel N. Flynn who was once at The Sunshine Home for Children in Hope?”
He nodded, his eyes alive with interest. “One and the same.”
“What does the N. stand for?”
He grinned again. “No-middle-name. I was dumped at the home without a middle name and they listed it on my records the same way. Hence, my N.”
“Mr. Fl—Sam, you may remember that years ago I had a brother who was kidnapped as a child.”
“Presumed dead.” He shook his head. “I was just a baby then, but I’ve read about it. Must have been a horrible time for your parents.”
“It was. The thing is, you are exactly the same age as my brother. Until recently we believed he was dead. But new evidence led us to The Sunshine Home, where my brother is believed to have been brought a few weeks after the kidnapping.”
“I see.” Sam spoke slowly and she could see why he was a lawyer. His mind worked at top speed. “And you think there’s a chance I’m your brother.”
“There’s a chance,” she agreed.
“Nah.” He unfolded his arms and boosted himself to sit on the desk, long legs dangling. “You’re too gorgeous to be related to me.”
“When my brother disappeared, he had dark hair and blue eyes. We know he was big for his age. He looked a great deal like pictures of my father at the same age and he probably still would today.” She fumbled to open her bag and pulled out two sheets of paper, unfolding them and smoothing out the creases. She passed the first one to him. “This is a picture of my father at age thirty, the age my brother would be today.”
“The age I am.” Sam studied the copy. “It’s possible. Although I don’t see any great resemblance.”
“It’s hard to tell from a photograph.” She studied him, thinking that he could indeed be James. So why wasn’t she more excited? Wasn’t this what she’d come to the States for?
You also came to the States to find the man who made love to you in a garden house.
She took a deep breath, banishing another pair of blue eyes from her mind. “Would you be willing to have some bloodwork done?”
Flynn considered. “Sure. Why not?” He passed the photo back to her. Then he snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute. Did your brother have any identifying marks? Birthmarks, scars—anything like that?”