H.R.H.

“That is what he expects of me,” she said firmly. “And I'm not going to be able to marry for a long time. Besides, I'm too young,” she said, trying to find plausible excuses to discourage him. She was turning twentyfour in a few weeks, which was not too young to marry. And her father was starting to make noises about her coming home. She had been gone for almost six months, and he thought it was long enough. Parker was still planning to leave in July. And if at all possible, Christianna wanted to finish out the year in Senafe. She had fought hard for it the last time she and her father talked, and things were at a standoff for now. With him at least. But Parker was starting to press her hard.

“Cricky, do you love me?” he finally asked her bluntly with a look of anguish in his eyes. He had never loved anyone as much in his life, nor had she.

“Yes, I do,” she said solemnly. “I love you very much.”

“I'm not suggesting we get married here, or next week. But I'm leaving soon, and before I go, I want you to know how serious I am. You said you might go back to school. Why don't you come to Boston to do it? There are lots of schools for you to choose from. Harvard, Boston University, Tufts, Boston College. Your father let you go to college in the States. Why not graduate school, too?”

“I think I used up the last of my tickets here. He wants me to go to school in Paris now, because it's a lot closer to home, or settle down in Vaduz.”

“Boston is six hours from Europe.” And he had already understood that money was not an object to them. She had never bragged about it, but he could tell. His own father's circumstances were comfortable, too. Parker was no stranger to the good life, or a moneyed world. His father was very successful, as was his brother, and his mother had left him a small trust fund when she died. He was in good shape. Paying for his education had never been a problem. He even owned a small house in Cambridge, and if they married, he could offer her a good solid life. But not if she insisted on playing handmaiden to her father and letting him run her life. Hearing about it really upset him. “You have a right to your own life,” he insisted.

“No, I don't,” she said firmly. “You don't understand.”

“No, I don't, dammit. Maybe if I meet him, he would understand that I'm a respectable person. Cricky, I love you…I want to know when I leave Africa that one day you'll be my wife.” Her eyes filled with tears as he said it. This was awful. She realized more than ever that she should never have allowed this to start. The inevitable sad ending had been written from the first. She nearly choked on her response.

“I can't.”

“Why? What is it that you've never told me? There is some dark, awful secret that you've been hiding from me all along. I don't care what it is. It can't be that awful. I love you, Cricky. Whatever it is, we'll work it out.” All she could do was look at him and shake her head. “I want you to tell me now.”

“It doesn't matter what it is. Believe me, Parker, all I want is what you're offering. But my father will never let me.” She sounded absolutely sure, as Parker looked more and more upset by the minute.

“Does he hate Americans? Or doctors? Why are you so sure we can't work this out?” There was an interminable silence as she looked at him hopelessly. It was time. She knew she had no other choice but to tell him now. It took forever for her to open her mouth and form the words, and then finally she did.

“He doesn't hate anybody. And he wouldn't hate you. I'm sure he would like you very much. But not for me.” The words sounded cruel, and the reality of her situation was cruel. For both of them. “My father is the reigning prince of Liechtenstein.” There was an interminable silence as Parker stared at her, trying to absorb what she had just said. The concept was so foreign to him that he sat very still for a long time, looking at her with no expression on his face.

“Say that again,” he said quietly, and she shook her head.

“You heard me the first time. I don't think you know what that means. I am entirely ruled by him, our constitution, and tradition. And when the time comes, he won't let me marry anyone who is not of royal birth. In some countries, they feel differently about those things. My father doesn't, he is very old-fashioned, and neither he nor the Family Court that makes those decisions will ever allow me to marry you, no matter how much I love you, and I do.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper when she finished, as Parker stared at her in disbelief.

“The Family Court makes those decisions? You don't?” She shook her head.