Читать книгу The Unlawfully Wedded Princess - Kara Lennox, Kara Lennox - Страница 10

Amelia had run out of nails to bite as she, Nick and the children cooled their heels in an anteroom at the Korosol embassy. Her grandfather had agreed to see them the day after Nick’s arrival in Manhattan, but he’d chosen the embassy as the venue, even though it was Saturday. It was less personal than his quarters at the penthouse would have been—not a good sign. He was treating them like any other subject who wanted his time, but King Easton was not one to give preferential treatment to anyone—not even the future queen.

She had worn her best, most dignified outfit—a gray wool suit with a black silk blouse, silver stockings and gray pumps. She’d even made an attempt to subdue her hair into a tame twist, and at CeCe’s urging had actually worn makeup.

Nick, for his part, had cleaned up pretty nicely. He’d been a savagely handsome man back in Palemeir, filling out his camouflage clothes in intriguing ways. His wild, sun-bleached hair, deeply tanned skin and scruffy beard had added to his dangerous image. And Amelia was a sucker for dangerous. She’d always felt smothered by the protective cocoon she’d been raised in—bodyguards, exclusive schools, tinted-windowed limousines. The adventure and excitement of traveling to third world countries under a false identity had held appeal for Amelia as much for the danger as for the chance to help children.

Nick still looked dangerous, but with a sheen of class. He wore a sober suit and tie, the coat taut across his broad shoulders. His hair was a darker blond now, the short, military cut having gotten rid of the sun’s highlights. But that didn’t stop Amelia from wanting to run her fingers through it, something she’d had to resist since meeting him. She could have ill afforded to fall in love with him a year ago, even less so now.

He was clean-shaven, and his tan had mellowed to a burnished gold. His hands looked strong as ever. She could still see them gripped around his old M16 as he ushered the refugee caravan across a dangerous bridge. But his nails were now clean and clipped neatly.

The children looked adorable, too, in spanking-new clothes, faces scrubbed, hair combed. She hardly recognized them as the same terrified, ragamuffin orphans she and Nick had rescued.

Josie, entirely too somber for a seven-year-old, sat in a wingback chair with her hands folded in her lap, casting cautious glances at Amelia. She was mistrustful of everyone but Nick and Jakob. But the terror of a year ago had left her eyes.

She did not instinctively seek Amelia’s comforting embrace as she’d done before. Amelia realized Nick was right—she had disappointed Josie, who had trusted her in Palemeir. Josie showed no outward signs of hostility, but she might never again trust Amelia—a sobering thought.

Jakob, on the other hand, was a little monkey. After thoroughly investigating everything in the waiting room, including some priceless prehistoric artifacts pulled from Korosol caves, he’d crawled into Amelia’s lap. A year ago he’d spoken only a few words, but now he chattered like a magpie. He did not remember his birth parents—nor much of anything about his previous life. He did seem to remember Amelia, though, which warmed her heart. She loved children and had always planned to adopt some orphans when she was ready to settle down. The world was just full of children who needed love.

Her status as future queen changed all that. She would not be allowed to adopt, and would in fact be expected to bear a child herself—after she married some stuffy aristocrat. The thought of a loveless marriage “for the good of the country” repulsed her.

“So you really don’t know the king?” Nick asked.

“I saw him once in my life before this current visit, when I was a small child. I barely remember it. It’s a sore point with my mother—the fact that Easton didn’t do something to help her sort things out after my father died, at a time when she needed him most. But I guess he had his own grief to deal with.” She paused. “He’s grieving now, too. It’s been little more than a year since Uncle Byrum died in that terrible jeep explosion.”

Nick grimaced. “A terrible thing for Korosol, given what Byrum’s death means in terms of succession. I can’t think of a man less fit to rule than your cousin.”

Nick was referring to Byrum’s son, Prince Markus, the apparent heir to the throne since his father’s death, though Amelia knew better. For whatever reason, King Easton did not favor Markus. Since an ancient charter allowed the Korosol king to choose his own successor, Easton intended to do just that.

It would be something of a scandal when he announced that Prince Markus would not succeed him on the throne. Neither would Easton appoint his youngest son, James, a thrice-married Wyoming wildcatter who had proved himself most unsuitable for the throne, not to mention unwilling.

Amelia sighed. “In thinking about the country, though, it’s easy to lose sight of the human aspect. The king has lost two of his three sons now. That’s the saddest thing, I think, to lose a child.”

Nick’s face hardened almost imperceptibly. Had she said something wrong? She’d been rattling on, probably because of nerves. Maybe he just didn’t like prattling women.

The double doors on the far end of the room whispered open, halting all conversation. Eleanor Standish, Nick’s younger sister, appeared. Though Amelia didn’t know the king’s secretary well, because Ellie had been in America only a few weeks, the two women got along well. Ellie had pitched in to help with CeCe’s spur-of-the-moment wedding, proving herself efficient and flexible, not to mention sensitive to CeCe’s feelings. Everyone who met her, liked her. However, her frumpy clothes and thick glasses made her look more like a schoolmarm than a trusted member of the royal inner circle.

She certainly didn’t remind Amelia of Nick in any way, and Amelia had been shocked a couple of weeks ago when she’d learned the two were siblings. Sometimes it amazed her how truly small Korosol was.

Eleanor and Nick embraced warmly, and the children both ran up with kisses and hugs in abundance for their aunt Ellie. Amelia felt a moment of jealousy that Josie hadn’t shown her similar affection.

Ellie studied Nick for a moment. “Nicky. You look very…very civilized.”

Nick raised one eyebrow in question. “I don’t think I’m being complimented.”

“Of course you are,” Ellie argued. “I’ve never seen you in a suit, that’s all.”

“You’ve seen me in a dress uniform,” Nick pointed out. “That’s not much different.”

A dress uniform? So Nick had been in the official Korosol military, then. That surprised Amelia. Ellie had said something about her parents disapproving of her brother. Amelia had this impression that Nick had always been a drifter, offering his unique skills to whoever could afford his price. But she supposed he would have had to acquire those skills somewhere.

Nick lowered his voice. “So, how’s the wind blowing?”

“With the king?” Ellie thought for a moment. “Hard to say. He wasn’t pleased with the quality of his sweet roll this morning. But if anything can cheer him up, these two can. His Majesty loves children. He’ll see you now. I should warn you he has another engagement in fifteen minutes, so you’ll have to talk fast.”

Fifteen minutes. Could they convince the king in such a short time how important it was to keep these children with Nick? How could Easton possibly understand the conditions in Palemeir, the unbelievable risks Nick had taken to honor his promise to Josie and Jakob’s mother?

EASTON CARRADIGNE, king of Korosol, threw a handful of pills into his mouth and washed them down with a swallow of bitter coffee just as the door opened to his temporary office and Eleanor entered. She gave him a little curtsy, which she did every time she saw him no matter how many times he told her such an archaic practice was unnecessary. Secretly, though, he enjoyed the gesture of respect.

“Her Highness, Princess Amelia,” Eleanor announced. “And Nicholas Standish. Oh, and Josie and Jakob Standish, too.”

Easton couldn’t believe it. They’d brought the children with them? Did they think he was some doddering, softhearted old man who could be swayed by a couple of moppets?

Well, okay, they were sort of cute, especially the little girl, who moved with such grace and quiet. The little boy, hardly more than a toddler, entered the room like a small hurricane.

“Don’t touch that,” Easton and Eleanor said together when Jakob tried to peer into the top of a sixteenth-century vase. Nicholas immediately corralled the boy before any harm could be done, and the four of them stood before Easton, waiting for him to acknowledge them. He should have come out from behind his desk to shake their hands, maybe give the little ones some candy, and kiss his granddaughter, the future queen, on the cheek. But he was more tired than usual today. All this business with Amelia’s secret, illegal marriage bandied about in the press had worn him out. Especially coming on the heels of CeCe’s very public scandal. He hoped Amelia’s predicament could be resolved as quickly as CeCe’s was.

“You can be seated,” Easton said as he took his own chair—a huge, thronelike thing. Ellie had chosen it for him, and he heartily approved. He relished the pomp and circumstance surrounding his station, even more so these days. Funny how one took so many things for granted until one was about to lose them.

Nicholas and Amelia sat in the wingback chairs that faced Easton’s desk. The little boy crawled into Nicholas’s lap, while Eleanor fetched a small slipper chair for the girl—what was her name? He’d already forgotten. Was memory loss one of his expected symptoms? Or was he just getting old? Some would say that at age seventy-eight he’d already been old for some time.

Eleanor withdrew, and Nicholas launched right into his statement, which sounded very well rehearsed.

“Your Majesty, I believe my sister, Eleanor, briefed you on the situation here. Princess Amelia and I took on the responsibility of these two children from Palemeir at the request of their dying mother. We married so that I could adopt the children and take them out of Palemeir, where they would be safe.”

“What about all the other children?” Easton wanted to know. “Don’t get me wrong, I applaud your compassion. Taking on the responsibility for war orphans shows extraordinary generosity. But why these two? You must encounter orphans all the time in your line of work.”

“These two were particularly at risk because their father was an American,” Amelia explained. “As you know, anti-American sentiments run strong in Palemeir right now. Besides, Nick was with their mother when she died, and he promised to take care of them. He just didn’t realize that would mean adopting them—but he is a man of his word.”

Easton noticed Nicholas and Amelia exchange a glance. Nicholas ought to be grateful a member of the royal family was pleading his case. But he didn’t look particularly grateful. In fact, Easton felt a distinct tension between these two.

“I’m not here to debate Mr. Standish’s character,” Easton said. “I only want to know the answer to one question. I’ve asked it before, of Amelia, but she was decidedly unforthcoming. Perhaps you can shed some light on the matter, Nicholas. The Ministry of Family charges that your marriage was a sham from the beginning, that you never intended to live together as husband and wife. Is this the case?”

Amelia looked everywhere but at the king. She seemed to find the wallpaper border fascinating. Nicholas was a bit more direct.

“‘Sham’ isn’t the right word,” he objected. “I won’t pretend that it was a love match. But I thought Melanie—Amelia—was as committed to the children as I was, and I assumed she would be returning to Korosol with me.”

“Melanie?”

“The identity I used when working for the ICF,” Amelia said.

“Of course, of course.” He’d only recently learned of his granddaughter’s alarming activities. Her philanthropic tendencies were to be applauded, but trotting off to war zones was completely unacceptable. He had put a stop to that, posthaste.

“At the time,” Nicholas continued, “I thought of the marriage as a temporary solution to a critical problem. Of course, I didn’t realize then that my new wife was Princess Amelia. She chose not to reveal that fact to me.”

“For security reasons,” Amelia added.

“You didn’t tell your own husband who you were?” Easton asked, amazed. He was learning a lot about his granddaughters on this trip to America, a great deal of it not very pleasant.

“He wasn’t really my husband.”

“So the marriage was a sham.”

Amelia answered slowly, carefully choosing each word. “I believe Nicholas and I had somewhat different expectations concerning the marriage. In retrospect, I see that I should have handled things differently.”

“To say the least,” Easton murmured, giving Amelia a hard look. He hoped she would show better judgment when she was queen.

“But it’s not fair for Nick to be penalized for my oversight. I’m sure the Ministry of Family is just doing its job, but if their primary concern is for the children, they shouldn’t jerk them away from the stable and loving home they’ve been in for the past year.”

“And how, exactly, do you know so much about this stable and loving home?” Easton asked. “Have you been there? Did you observe it firsthand?” Easton knew very well the answer to that question. Neither Amelia nor her sisters had set foot in Korosol in more than twenty years, despite his many invitations. His daughter-in-law, Lady Charlotte, had forbidden it, and because they were American citizens, he had no authority to enforce demands. She somehow held him responsible for the hardships she endured running her family’s shipping business after his son Drake’s untimely death almost twenty years ago. Fortunately, his current visit had done much to soften Charlotte’s attitude toward him.

“I can tell that the children have been happy with Nicholas because of what I see now,” Amelia answered. “A year ago these children were malnourished and practically dressed in rags, not to mention terrified. As you can see now, they’re both clean, healthy and well dressed. And they adore Nicholas.”

Easton could see the little boy worshiped his adoptive father. He had crawled into Nicholas’s lap and was playing peekaboo using Nicholas’s tie. The fact that Nicholas didn’t participate in the game didn’t faze the boy.

The girl, though, worried him. “You, ma petite,” he said, pointing to the older child, whose name he still couldn’t recall. “How do you like living with Mr. Standish?”

“Uncle Nick is wonderful,” she replied solemnly. “He brought us to live in a pretty house in a nice village. We have all the food we want, and I have a pet lamb that Nick says we never have to eat, and we have as many blankets on the bed as we need. He takes me to school every day and he’s teaching me French.”

“Indeed.” Easton was charmed despite himself. The delicate little girl reminded him of his sister Magdalene when she’d been that age, God rest her soul. “And what about the Princess Amelia?” Easton asked. “What do you think of her?”

The child looked taken aback by the question, but Easton was merely trying to get the child away from her rehearsed speech.

“Princess Amelia is very pretty,” the little girl said. “I didn’t know she was a princess till Uncle Nick read about her in the newspaper.”

“Really?” Easton asked. “What happened then?”

“He got real mad,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “He said some words. I think they might have been bad words, but they were in French so I didn’t understand them. And he threw a couple of things.” She looked over at Nicholas and, seeing his expression of dismay, quickly added, “Oh, but Uncle Nick hardly ever says bad words. And he mostly threw things that didn’t break, and he didn’t throw them at anyone.”

Easton chuckled at the child’s sober sincerity, then quickly sobered himself. This situation put him into quite a sticky wicket, though it wasn’t the stability of Nick’s home or the quality of his guardianship that concerned him. Eleanor had told Easton everything he needed to know about her brother’s dependability.

“What is it you want from me?” he asked Nicholas point-blank.

“Intervention,” Nicholas answered quickly, decisively. “You’re the king. One phone call from you and the dragon-lady social workers from the Ministry of Family will drop their case against me and leave me in peace.”

“Dragon ladies,” Jakob repeated, then giggled.

Easton found nothing to laugh about. This was serious business. He rose from his chair and paced. “I don’t think you fully understand what you’re asking me to do. Korosol is a constitutional monarchy, not a dictatorship. I’ve successfully ruled the country for fifty-something years precisely because I don’t throw my weight around. The Parliament makes rules, the police and courts enforce them. And I don’t go meddling in affairs that aren’t my responsibility, no matter what my personal feelings.”

“If you don’t meddle, and you don’t make or enforce laws, what do you do?” Nicholas asked with a trifle too much arrogance, Easton thought. But he chose to overlook the breach of protocol.

“I do many of the same things the American president does,” Easton explained patiently. “I’m commander in chief of the Korosol Armed Forces. I’m the head of state, and I undertake a number of diplomatic duties. I act as an adviser to Parliament. But I don’t run around giving orders. Maybe that’s what kings did a hundred years ago in Korosol, but not now.”

“So you won’t help us?” Amelia asked, incredulous. “Help Nick, I mean. You wouldn’t have to issue an order. You could…advise the Ministry of Family, couldn’t you? I’m sure they would listen.”

“My dear girl, to make requests such as you suggest would open a Pandora’s box. Pretty soon everyone would be asking me for personal favors, and many would be as persuasive as you, with causes just as righteous, just as urgent.”

“But I’m—” Amelia objected, then stopped herself. He deduced she’d been about to remind him of her newly special status as his successor—as if he needed to be reminded. “I’m your granddaughter,” she continued. “A member of the royal family.”

“And to alter my standards and ethics just because you’re royalty and not some peasant would be even worse. I abhor favoritism under any guise.” He turned his attention to Nicholas. “I sympathize with your situation, but it wouldn’t be practical for the king to step in and usurp the authority of one of my ministers. I suggest you let the Ministry of Family conduct its investigation. If the situation is as healthy for the children as you say, they’ll rule in your favor, without my interference. The Ministry does good work. I have complete faith in it.”

“I’m afraid they won’t,” Nicholas said. “They’ve made it pretty clear—no wife, no adoption, no kids.”

Easton felt for this cobbled-together family, he really did. But his hands were tied by his own principles.

A long, awkward silence followed Nick’s pronouncement. When it became clear Easton wasn’t going to change his mind, Amelia cleared her throat and stood. “Well, then, I’m sure you have important matters to attend to.”

“We appreciate the audience,” Nicholas added. “It’s…interesting for an ordinary citizen such as myself to get a firsthand look at how the royal mind reasons out problems.”

Easton had come close to the end of his patience with Nicholas Standish. His veiled sarcasm didn’t come close to escaping his notice. A generation ago, men had been thrown into leg irons for lesser insubordination. But Easton knew how upset Eleanor would be if he did anything to her brother, and good secretaries were hard to find. So, again, he let the comment pass.

Nicholas stood and hoisted Jakob onto his hip. He gave Easton a curt nod, then held the king’s gaze until Easton nodded back, giving him silent permission to withdraw. The little girl stood last. She said nothing, didn’t even look at Easton. But he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. The silent tears were almost Easton’s undoing, and he knew he would be haunted by her solemn eyes for many nights to come.

NO WIFE, NO ADOPTION, NO KIDS. Those words ricocheted through Amelia’s head as Ellie escorted her, Nick and the children down the echoing embassy hallway toward the elevator. Nick’s face was hard, impassive, but Josie was blinking back tears. She understood what had just happened. Even Jakob was quiet.

“Come home with me,” Amelia said impulsively. “We’ll have a nice lunch, and we’ll try to figure—”

“No, thanks,” Nick said curtly. “The kids and I are going back to our hotel to change out of these clothes, then I’m taking them to the Statue of Liberty. They might as well learn some history while they’re here.”

Amelia made herself smile at the kids. “That sounds like fun!”

“You can come with us,” Josie said cautiously, which pleased Amelia. It was the first friendly overture Josie had made to her.

“No, she can’t,” Nick said, speaking to Josie but looking at Amelia. “Her Highness can’t step out her front door without reporters and groupies descending on her, and I’m not up to dealing with that right now.”

Amelia wanted to argue that he was wrong. She could usually move about the city with a certain amount of anonymity, provided she was careful. But she knew an excuse when she heard one. Nick didn’t want to be with her.

“When do we go to the orph’nage?” Jakob asked innocently.

“No one is going to any orphanage,” Nick said firmly. “Josie, what have you been telling him?”

“But that’s where kids go when they don’t have parents,” Josie said. “Remember that movie we saw, Annie?”

“There are no orphanages in Korosol, sweetheart,” Eleanor interjected. A bell announced the elevator’s arrival, and she gave Nick and the kids quick hugs.

“Call me later.”

The elevator doors opened, and Amelia started to get on, but Eleanor held her back. “Amelia, I just remembered, I have a…package for you to take home with you.”

Ugh. More study materials about Korosol. Amelia hadn’t read so much boring material since her last political science class. Nick and the kids boarded the elevator. Jakob waved to her, Josie stared at her, her young face full of disappointment. Nick pointedly ignored her.

Amelia wanted to scream at the ineffectual way she’d handled the situation.

“Come back to my office,” Eleanor said. “I don’t really have anything to give you. But I wanted to talk to you…about Nicky.”

She said nothing else until they were settled in Eleanor’s little alcove sipping tea. “How much do you know about Nick’s past?” Ellie asked.

Amelia shrugged. “Not very much, really. We became friends in Palemeir, but we never talked about personal things.” He’d been easy with her, kind to the children, but she’d recognized an emotional wall when she saw one. There were certain boundaries she’d learned not to cross during their brief acquaintance. One of those was Nick Standish didn’t talk about his past.

“Let me show you something.” Eleanor reached behind her and picked up a silver-framed photo from a group of personal knickknacks she’d arranged on top of a low bookcase. She handed it wordlessly to Amelia.

The subject of the photo took Amelia’s breath away. It was an informal portrait of a family—a beautiful young woman with black hair and dark, dramatic eyes, laughing into the camera; a darling little boy not much older than Jakob, his eyes full of mischief; and a younger, more boyish-looking Nick.

“He was married?” This was something Amelia had a hard time visualizing.

“For five years, very happily. Then Monette and William died in a car accident, about four years ago. It changed Nicky, made him into a different person. He resigned from the army and became a mercenary. He took crazy chances with his life—I believe he didn’t care whether he lived or died.”

Amelia struggled to absorb this new piece of the puzzle that made up Nick. Now his aura of reckless danger made sense. She’d been drawn to it as much as to his rugged, handsome face and enough muscles for a wrestling team. He and his band of ragtag soldiers had been hired to subdue rebel forces and restore order to the capital city. But somehow he’d gotten caught up in the plight of refugees trying to flee the fighting.

“Those children have changed him,” Eleanor went on. “He’s not quite the lighthearted, fun-loving man he was before, but I see flashes of the old Nicky beginning to surface. If he loses Josie and Jakob, I don’t know what will become of him. A man can only take so much pain.”

“I had no idea he’d suffered such a terrible loss.”

“I wanted to tell you—not because I think there’s anything more you can do, but just so you’ll understand why he’s acting a bit harsh.”

“I don’t blame him. I put him in a terrible position. If I’d only realized—”

“Don’t blame yourself, either, Your Highness.”

“Please, could you call me Amelia? We’ve become friends, after all.”

“Yes, but you’re soon to be queen.”

Amelia resisted the urge to groan. She detested pomp and circumstance.

“At any rate,” Eleanor went on, “I wanted to express my appreciation for what you did to help Nick and the kids. It was a huge risk for you as well, staying behind until the ICF practically dragged you out.”

But it had been an easy choice for Amelia. It might have been a marriage of convenience, but she’d have done anything to protect those children. And Nick—well, saying vows in a church with him at her side had been a little frightening, but a part of her had thrilled at the idea of being married to such a powerful, dangerous man.

If she had it to do over again, she would have stayed with them, returned to Korosol with them and consequences be damned. But she’d made the wrong decision. Now she carried the responsibility of that mistake with her. The fates of those children were on her head, and it was up to her to make things right. But how?