Saved by the Monarch (3 page)

She didn’t breathe again until he let her hand go.

Liberace looked up to the airplane. “And your social secretary and entourage?”

Entou—what?
Her head was beginning to spin.

“I’m sorry, there must be a mistake.” She offered a painful smile, hating to make a fool of herself in front of the handsome prince. Oh man, the stories she was going to tell the girls at the office when she got back.

His Highness caught on first. He nodded to one of
the guards next to him, who opened the limo’s door. She was ushered in efficiently, away from the flashing cameras and the most awkward public moment of her life. It bordered on ridiculous how grateful she felt for the reprieve.

The two men got in after her and, for a moment, tense silence ruled.

Then Liberace said, “I’ve sent a detailed outline of the reception, protocol and hour-by-hour plans of your entire stay to Lady Viola, your social secretary.” He seemed bewildered and scandalized by her behavior.

His Highness
simply observed her. And managed to unnerve her completely just by doing that.

Her brain slowed to a crawl. “Aunt Viola?” She stared at the older man. Her aunt had just had emergency gallbladder surgery. Judi would have canceled the whole trip if her aunt hadn’t forbidden her to do it. The only time the short, timid, fairy godmother-type of a woman had ever put her foot down as long as Judi could remember.

“Who do you think I am?” she asked tentatively.

“Lady Judit Marezzi, daughter of Lord Conrad Marezzi and Lady Lillian.”

Okay, the names matched. Except for the lord and lady part, although she did remember her father mentioning to her they were from an old, important family. She didn’t remember her mother, who had died when Judi was three. She did remember her father, however. He’d gotten remarried, to an American, before dying just days after Judi’s fifth birthday. Her American stepmother wasn’t the type to dwell on the past. Neither was
Aunt Viola, who’d moved to the States after her father’s death.

The limousine began to move. And for a long while, as Liberace went on about impossible and incomprehensible acts, she was frozen in place, unsure what on earth was going on and how to act. Then the car left the airport and entered a busy highway, and she was aware all of a sudden that she was being carted off to an unknown location by two strange men.

“Stop.” She raised her hand, palm out. “I need you to let me go right now.” Where was her luggage, anyway? Never mind. She would take that up with the airline later. Right now she needed to return to reality posthaste. “I want you to let me out right here.”

His Highness flashed her a somber, I-don’t-think so glance. She appreciated the manly, sexy and formidable look on a guy as much as the next girl, but not when said guy was standing in the way of her freedom.

“Now listen—” She might have wagged her index finger for a second there before she caught herself and found her very last smidgen of ladylike restraint.

Liberace gasped. “Please consider…The press…This is…We are miles from the city proper.”

“And who are you?” She was running out of patience.

He looked puppy-eyed hurt. “I’m Chancellor Hansen. You might recall that we
have
corresponded.”

Uh-huh. And she kept in regular touch with Mick Jagger and the Dalai Lama, as well. She was beginning to feel on the edge of desperate.

“I need you to take me to my hotel. I’m staying at
the Ramada at center city.” She dug into her purse to get the paper with the exact address.

D
ID SHE THINK SHE WAS
in a taxicab?

“You’ll be staying at the royal palace,” Miklos said. Security would be impossible at a hotel. If that was what she wanted, she should have notified the chancellor months ago so they could have properly set it up.

“I don’t think so.” She gave him a look full of attitude. Her lavender eyes shone like jewels.

The chancellor sucked in a sharp breath.

Miklos cocked his head as he took in the woman. He wasn’t used to his word being questioned. Definitely not in the military, where a superior officer’s word was the law, and not in civilian life, either.

She was pretty but it would only get her so far with him. He happened to have too much on his plate today to deal with her drama and theatrics.

The four younger princes—Janos, Istvan, Lazlo and Benedek—were better at diplomacy than the two eldest. Arpad, the crown prince, and Miklos were more of cut-to-the-chase type of men. “If you have no interest in honoring our parents’ agreement, then why are you here?”

“As a birthday present to myself.” She sounded and looked thoroughly exasperated. “I thought it was time I discovered my roots a little,” she went on, then paused and looked at him with full-on suspicion on her beautiful face. “What agreement?”

He cast a sidelong glance at the chancellor, who was now looking positively ashen.

“Our
engagement.
” He said the last word with emphasis so there would be no way she could misunderstand him.

Her nearly translucent skin lost all color. “A what?” she asked.

He didn’t have time for this.

“Aunt Viola?” Miklos drew up one eyebrow as he glanced toward the chancellor. The future princess’s companion and social secretary seemed to have been amiss in her duties. To say the least.

“Lady Viola Arynak. A distant relation to Lady Marezzi,” the chancellor supplied, looking thoroughly off balance.

“Arynak?” Foreboding filled the prince.

“Dr. Arynak’s cousin.”

Which might have explained a lot. Was she also averse to delivering bad news? Had she left the princess’s engagement out of her education altogether? Although he couldn’t comprehend why anyone would think of the prospect of being married to him as bad news.

“Engagement?” she asked again, color returning to her face. She had the fine features of Valtrian aristocracy and lively eyes that made it near impossible to look away from her.

“An agreement was reached between our parents at
the time of your birth, then reinforced at the time of your leaving Valtria.” When her father was appointed Valtrian ambassador to the United States.

She really had an attractive mouth. Even when it was hanging open.

“I was two when my family moved to America. You—you pedophile!” Outrage shook her voice.

“I was not quite thirteen at the time and wasn’t given much say in the matter,” he said mildly. “You came up to my knee and hugged it. The families took it as an agreement.” She’d been a charming toddler, large blue eyes that had turned lavender over the past decades and curly red hair that had grown into auburn waves.

She flashed him a look of contempt.

Far from the look of adoration she’d regarded him with back then. He hadn’t known what to do with her, felt lucky that protocol required nothing but a short introduction. He’d been relieved that she was so young, that the alliance he was expected to make with her wouldn’t have to happen for endless years yet. Two decades had seemed an eternity to his thirteen-year-old self.

But that particular eternity had just come to an end. And his fond fantasies of an obedient wife who toed the line and understood the responsibilities of the monarchy were rapidly coming to an end with it.

The fire in her eyes was something to behold. “This is the twenty-first century. You can’t be serious,” she admonished him.

He didn’t even answer that. Duty was everything to him. That she would question hers the moment she
was required the first small thing annoyed him to no end and didn’t fill him with optimism regarding his future wife’s character.

He would marry her anyway. He was prepared to make that sacrifice. She could be key to uniting the country again. Her father had been an extremely popular lord and political figure, a son of the Italian minority living in Valtria. Her mother had been a descendant of the Austrian-related branch of Valtrian nobility. Her marriage to him would be far more than just a happy occasion for all the people to come together at last and celebrate. Their joining would be symbolic, could even start the country on the path of healing ethnic wounds if it were played in exactly the right way.

“I’m an American citizen. I got that when my stepmother adopted me. You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.” She threw him a so-there look that was haughty enough for a princess while also incredibly hot.

“Valtrian-American,” he corrected and wondered if that, too, might not have some use yet. She’d spent most of her life outside the country. She had no alliances yet, no preferences, no past here to dredge up. She could be seen as a fresh breath of air to the royal family, impartial, sympathetic to all the people of the kingdom. Something to discuss with the chancellor when they had a sane minute.

His cell phone rang. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have picked it up in the lady’s presence, reserving his full attention for her. But at the moment, he was glad for any diversion from the disaster their
meeting was turning into. Seeing the chief of security’s number on the display made his decision for him.

“What happened?”

“Two bodies were found in the catacombs. Palace guards.” The man’s voice was grave and apologetic at the same time.

“Procedure followed?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Emergency procedures for the possible infiltration of the palace are being put in place. The royal family will leave for a weekend hunting holiday to Maltmore within the hour.”

He loved Maltmore, a fine hunting castle, had fond childhood memories of the place and Monsieur Maneaux, the Frenchman who had taught the young princes sword fighting there. Under the current situation, to remove the royal family to the castle from the royal palace for a few days was the best course of action.

Which was going to be questioned by the media, since it had been unscheduled, but the chancellor would come up with some innocent reason. Maybe even involving the arrival of Lady Judit.

“Very well.” His ancestors had built Maltmore in the foothills of the Alps, a location as majestic as it was well defensible.

But also a hundred miles from the capital. Which meant he would have a hard time investigating the goings-on at the royal palace from there. “I shall be staying in residence.” The rest of the “Brotherhood” could just investigate from the safety of the castle walls. Actually, that suited him pretty well.

“Your Highness, I must advise—”

“I shall be staying in residence with the Lady Judit.” The perfect excuse for him to lag behind his family.

The prince and the future princess are getting to know each other. Courting.

The press would turn it into something mushily romantic, and nobody would guess the dire situation at the palace, news of which could not come out under any circumstances. With all the upheaval in the country, the supposed Freedom Council that worked to bring down the monarchy would capitalize on information like that, use it as proof that the people were fed up with the royals. The council would gain more power, and their power was even now almost too much to handle.

His mother was ill—she had to leave. His brothers, if they stayed, wouldn’t be able to help themselves, but would try to investigate and look for any excuse to perform some heroic deed. He could never hope to keep an eye on all of them. They were better off at Maltmore. But he should be able to keep a close eye on Judit. How hard could it be to keep track of one young woman? And the monarchy’s enemies didn’t know her yet anyway. She wasn’t a target.

“We’ll talk when I get there.” He hung up the phone, then addressed Lady Judit. “I’m sorry, but your official schedule will have to be changed.”

Under the circumstances, maybe it was best if she weren’t out there, prancing around the countryside. He’d see to it that she would be kept busy at the royal palace, while guarded heavily. They might even spend
more time together than originally planned. He found that he didn’t altogether mind that prospect.

“I don’t have an official schedule.” She glared at him.

The chancellor drew up his shoulders and shook his head, nonplussed. He seemed completely out of sorts and taking this mix-up badly. He probably felt responsible.

“If we were engaged all this time like you say, how come you never contacted me? If I hadn’t decided to come here, would you have just forgotten about it and let it all go?” Judit asked.

“I’ve been busy. I’ve been patient, trying to give you the time you needed.” And relieved that she’d stayed away, to be truthful. He had a full life, a career in the army, a pretty busy schedule. It’d always seemed that they would have plenty of time yet. Which led the chancellor to his ultimatum. Might as well tell her some of that.

“If I hadn’t made arrangements before my fortieth birthday—” he felt a moment of embarrassment “—you would have received an official contact from the royal family that requested your presence here. Chancellor Hansen would have organized the confirmation of our engagement.”

“When is your fortieth birthday?” she inquired.

“At the end of summer.”

“Procrastinate much?” She actually looked amused for a second.

His turn to glare at her.

“I think you want this as little as I do,” she observed.

“I want to do my duty.” That was all he ever wanted. Whatever it took to help the country and the monarchy. When one was a prince, personal feelings did not figure into the equation.

“I don’t want anyone to marry me out of duty,” she snapped, as if offended. But then she added on a softer voice, that suited her much better, “Can you understand that?”

“Lady Arynak mentioned none of this to you?” Miklos asked.

N
OT REALLY
. J
UDI SAT
ramrod straight on the leather seat, not allowing her shoulders to slump.
Don’t let them see you scared.

The limousine felt smaller than a Mini Cooper. The prince had what could be called an imposing presence, his intense energy filling the space and then some. Grainy pictures in tabloids were one thing. Sitting face-to-face with all that charisma was vastly different, heaven help her.

She wondered for a second if anyone had ever naysayed him. That probably didn’t happen too often. A man like him wouldn’t be used to resistance from women.

“My aunt is a sweet old lady.” She sounded defensive even to her own ears, but couldn’t help it. She loved Aunt Viola. Who
was
sweet. Too sweet, even. She had a tendency to say whatever anyone wanted to hear. But, hello, that was exactly why she was so very likable and had a gazillion friends.

“She did bring up from time to time that I should visit Valtria.” But Judi had always put it off, focusing
on her studies at first, then on her career. And her aunt
had
mentioned marriage, urged her more and more often lately to consider that it might be time to start thinking along those lines, but Judi had been reluctant.

Not that she was commitment-phobic, although she’d been accused of just that by more than one ex-boyfriend. But it did seem that everyone she’d ever truly loved always ended up dying. Her mother when Judi had been three, her father when she’d been five, her stepmother when she’d been ten.

Maybe she
was
scared to fully fall in love and commit to a man. And her aunt hadn’t pushed or played matchmakers like older family members or some of her friends. She just wasn’t the pushy kind, which Judi very much appreciated. Having someone like Aunt Viola by her side was wonderful when life was filled with one harsh reality after another.

Like the fact that her parents had sold her out to some prince when she’d been a toddler!

He seemed annoyed but held it in check and remained studiously polite, a man who fully knew the meaning of aristocratic restraint. Which she appreciated. He was overwhelming enough as it was.

“Look, we’re both adults. We should be able to figure something out.” There had to be something she could say to make him see how absolutely crazy this all was.

He watched her as if trying to see inside her. “The country needs our alliance,” he stated simply.

His very presence demanded that she curtsy and say
Yes, Your Highness.
But in addition to her Valtrian
heritage, she also had her indomitable American stepmother’s spirit in her. She called on that.

“That’s not up for negotiation.” She did her best to remain calm and match his cool demeanor.

Her father had been a high-profile political figure, then her stepmother after him. They’d both been dragged through the mud. If there was one thing she’d known for sure at an early age, it was that she would never become a public figure when she grew up.

“If I can make the sacrifice, why is it that you cannot?” His masculine, sensuous lips flattened. “A true daughter of Lord Marezzi would never refuse her duty.”

I would and I will—just watch me, Buster,
she wanted to say but had a feeling that she would get better results by remaining civil and rational. She needed time.
Delay.
“I believe we really need to talk about this. I’m going to need time here. And a lot of questions need to be answered.”

He watched her darkly for a long moment. “Agreed.”

So he was willing to negotiate. It saved her from having to jump from a moving car and run for the hills. She felt a small sense of relief, the first since she’d gotten off the plane.

“You will consider the situation?” His face remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed that he wasn’t too happy with her.

Not that she was all that thrilled with him, either. “Yes.” The situation she would consider. Marriage to him, she would not.

Even if he wasn’t that bad to look at: raven-wing black hair and dark slate eyes, a straight, aristocratic nose and a powerfully built soldier’s body. Which, really, she should have been too angry to notice. It annoyed her to no end that she had. So he was handsome. So who cared?

He was archaic.

An arranged marriage. In this day and age? Who was he kidding?

Maybe he was crazy. Not a raving lunatic, but slightly off. Madness ran in the royal bloodlines of several European countries; she remembered that from history class. Just her luck. A whole, perfectly fine country, and the first person she ran into was their off-his-rocker prince.

They slowed for a sharp turn. She opened her mouth to talk some reason into the two men, but what happened next froze her. She watched the scene unfold, her body immobile from the terror she felt.

Two cars plowed through traffic and pulled to a screeching halt next to their motorcade. Two men got out. One pointed a grenade launcher at the limo behind them that was supposed to carry her entourage but was empty instead, save for the driver. The guy blew it to pieces.

Just blew it up without warning.

Fire shot to the sky.

Car parts rained to the pavement.

She might have screamed. She couldn’t hear her own voice, deafened by the explosion.

The guy pointed the grenade launcher at their car next.

If she’d had command of her limbs, she would have been hiding under the seats by now.

The prince opened the door and got out with murder on his face to confront the armed men. He stood tall and straight, focused on the attackers. “This is not necessary. I will come of my own will and listen to your demands.” His voice was clipped, betraying the restraint it took for him to just stand there.