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The Unlawfully Wedded Princess
Kara Lennox


Mercenary to Marry Lady Monarch…Again!Seems King Easton can't select his successor to the throne without skeletons parading from the Carradigne penthouse closet! The King's granddaughter, do-good Princess Amelia, secretly married Nicholas Standish under an assumed identity so the rugged mercenary's ragamuffin wards could officially become family. But sources say the convenient nuptials were never consummated, making Amelia a virgin bride and her sexy soldier a single dad in danger of losing his adopted duo. A remarriage is rumored to be monitored by the King himself! This time 'round, will desire blaze between the debutante and her dark knight?Get all the facts inside…as a search for an heir to the throne leads to scandals of royal proportions for the Carradignes: American Royalty









“Are you going to ask me into the royal penthouse, Your Highness?”


In a heartbeat time melted, taking Amelia back to a year ago when this man had been her lifeline, her protector…her husband. Her skin prickled with awareness.

His eyes seemed to devour her inch by inch. She could tell he was angry—perhaps dangerously so. She’d seen those veiled blue eyes looking just like that whenever anyone got in his way.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“What am I supposed to call you then? Not Melanie. That’s not your real name, is it?”

“You called me Mellie. That could be short for Amelia, as well.”

“Nicknames are a show of fondness. I use them for friends. Doesn’t apply in this case.”

Well, he certainly had sharpened his tiger’s claws during their separation. But she’d be damned if she showed him how much he could hurt her.


Dear Reader,

Once again, Harlequin American Romance has got an irresistible month of reading coming your way.

Our in-line continuity series THE CARRADIGNES: AMERICAN ROYALTY continues with Kara Lennox’s The Unlawfully Wedded Princess. Media chaos erupted when Princess Amelia Carradigne’s secret in-name-only marriage was revealed. Now her handsome husband has returned to claim his virgin bride. Talk about a scandal of royal proportions! Watch for more royals next month.

For fans of Judy Christenberry’s BRIDES FOR BROTHERS series, we bring you Randall Riches, in which champion bull rider Rich Randall meets a sassy diner waitress whose resistance to his charms has him eager to change her mind. Next, Karen Toller Whittenburg checks in with The Blacksheep’s Arranged Marriage, part of her BILLION-DOLLAR BRADDOCKS series. This is a sexy marriage-of-convenience story you won’t want to miss. Finish the month with Two Little Secrets by Linda Randall Wisdom, a delightful story featuring a single-dad hero with twin surprises.

This month, and every month, come home to Harlequin American Romance—and enjoy!

Best,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance


The Unlawfully Wedded Princess

Kara Lennox






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Texas native Kara Lennox has been an art director, typesetter, advertising copywriter, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and has conducted telephone surveys. She’s been an antiques dealer and briefly ran a clipping service. But no work has made her happier than writing romance novels.

When Kara isn’t writing, she indulges in an ever-changing array of weird hobbies, from rock climbing to crystal digging. But her mind is never far from her stories. Just about anything can send her running to her computer to jot down a new idea for some future novel.




Books by Kara Lennox


HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

840—VIRGIN PROMISE

856—TWIN EXPECTATIONS

871—TAME AN OLDER MAN

893—BABY BY THE BOOK

917—THE UNLAWFULLY WEDDED PRINCESS










Contents


Chapter One (#u420dd63f-8da3-5840-abcb-62f27753a0b1)

Chapter Two (#u9e6299a8-3bcb-5b5a-881d-5cba057209a5)

Chapter Three (#u71fecb87-a675-5dae-ac2c-3cd4a4ec1da2)

Chapter Four (#udb4a84d5-266f-52e6-b216-71a58bbd5fb9)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


“I keep telling you, he’s not really my husband.” Princess Amelia Carradigne, granddaughter to the king of Korosol, didn’t even glance up from where she sat on the window seat in her bedroom, filing her nails. She was trying to look calm, act calm, in the face of impending disaster, but her older sister, Cecelia, wasn’t making it easy.

CeCe ceased her pacing and leaned down until she was eye to eye with Amelia. “You said he was your husband, when he called to say he was on his way to New York.”

“I’ve since consulted our lawyer. The marriage wasn’t legal—no way, no how.”

“He obviously means something to you.” CeCe went to the walk-in closet and threw open the door. “Don’t you want to at least put on a dress, maybe some lipstick?”

“Nick has seen me without lipstick. It won’t kill him.” Actually, Nicholas Standish had seen her looking a lot worse than she did now. Almost a year ago, in the former Soviet state of Palemeir, he’d seen her covered with dirt and bug bites, which was how she tended to get when she became deeply involved with a relief effort for the International Children’s Foundation. She’d been busy feeding hungry children, doling out medicine and helping them find a safe place to sleep at night. Her own fastidiousness was low on her priority list, even in the presence of the handsomest, most charismatic man she’d ever met.

Amelia abandoned her nail file and turned to look out the window of the penthouse, which offered a magnificent view of Central Park. The city was in the middle of a dreary late-winter rain, but the park still looked inviting even though still wrapped in winter’s browns. Amelia wished she could go for a run in that park, just lose herself. She’d rather be anywhere than here, about to face the man she’d lied to, then abandoned.

When Amelia turned back to see what her sister was up to, she was met by a bombardment of clothes. CeCe was pulling dresses out of the closet and tossing them at Amelia.

“Put one of those on. Any of them will do.”

Amelia hid a smile as she stripped down to her bra and panties. CeCe, with her sleek, chin-length hair, which she recently dyed reddish-blonde, and her peach silk suit, looked every inch the princess she was—much more so than Amelia, whose curly blond hair was always out of control, and whose wardrobe leaned toward jeans, T-shirts and simple dresses. CeCe’s nervous energy made her a whiz in the corporate boardrooms of DeLacey Shipping, where she was second in command to their mother, Lady Charlotte. In Amelia’s mind, that was just one step away from running a small country like Korosol.

But Amelia was the princess destined to inherit the throne of the tiny principality nestled between Spain and France. Though CeCe at twenty-nine was older than Amelia by two years, their grandfather, King Easton, had chosen Amelia after CeCe had politely declined the throne. Amelia was both honored and terrified by the prospect, amazed she would be trusted with such an awesome responsibility, and worried she wouldn’t live up to the king’s lofty expectations.

But she intended to do her best, to earn the trust her grandfather had in her—if this recent scandal didn’t cause him to disown her. CeCe’s unplanned pregnancy had made tabloid headlines around the world a few scant weeks ago, causing the king a lot of sleepless nights. Fortunately, CeCe had worked things out with the baby’s father, Shane O’Connell, and they were now happily married.

Amelia wasn’t sure her own scandal would have such a satisfying conclusion. It was entirely possible King Easton would change his mind about his latest choice of heir to the throne. He still had one more Carradigne sister available, twenty-six-year-old Lucia. Though Amelia’s younger sister was a free spirit, at least she hadn’t stirred up any scandals.

“So why didn’t you tell us about Nicholas Standish?” CeCe wanted to know, tugging a dress over Amelia’s head as if she were a doll and pulling up the zipper. “I’d have thought you would at least mention it to Ellie.”

Eleanor Standish was Nick’s younger sister and, proving it was a small world, a member of the king’s personal staff who had traveled with him to New York to find an heir among his three granddaughters here. Amelia hadn’t even realized Nick and Ellie were related until recently.

“I thought I’d never see Nick again,” Amelia said, finally ending her self-imposed silence about her matrimonial misadventure. “We were desperate. Marrying him was the only way he could get those two kids out of—”

“Oh, yes. Ellie told us about her brother adopting two orphans.” CeCe automatically put a protective hand to her tummy bulge, which even her expertly tailored suits could no longer disguise. Pregnancy had softened CeCe around the edges. Once known as “the barracuda,” she now melted at the mention of children.

Amelia sighed. “We—Nick and I—ended up responsible for the children after their father died in a foreign embassy blast in Palemeir. Their mother was very sick at the time, and Nick promised her before she died, too, that he would personally care for the kids. But the only way for him to do that was to adopt them. And the only way the Palemeir government would push through the paperwork was if Nick was married. So we got married.”

“That’s extraordinary,” CeCe said, pawing through Amelia’s drawers for a half slip and stockings. “I mean, didn’t you say he’s a mercenary? Such a selfless act doesn’t sound like the act of a guy who makes war for money. He must be something.”

“He is,” Amelia agreed. When she realized how dreamy she sounded, she straightened her spine and frowned. “I’m not wearing stockings.”

“So why is he coming here?” CeCe asked, tossing the underthings at Amelia as if she hadn’t heard her.

“I have no idea.” They’d said their goodbyes at the airport in Palemeir after she’d surprised him by announcing she had to leave right away. The ICF was pulling out, and so was she. But tempted though she’d been, there was no way she could live as a mercenary’s wife in a small town, even if it was in the country of her heritage. She was destined for bigger things—like inheriting a throne. Maybe being queen wasn’t her first choice, but it was her duty.

“I’m fascinated by the whole thing,” CeCe pronounced. “Not just the secret marriage, but the physical risks you took. I knew you were traveling to dangerous areas, but I didn’t picture you right there on the front lines.”

“There were no front lines in Palemeir,” Amelia said. “War was all around us. That’s why I was using the pseudonym, Melanie Lacey, so I could move around without people gawking or the press interfering with my work.”

CeCe brushed an errant curl from Amelia’s cheek. “I know you’re not happy the king put a stop to your activities. But he couldn’t allow the future queen of Korosol to risk her life in war zones.”

Amelia understood. But she missed her adventurous life.

Still, she recognized that with the privilege of her birth came responsibilities, and she was not turning her back on them.

“What are you going to do with this guy when he gets here?” CeCe asked, digging through Amelia’s jumble of shoes in the closet. She selected a pair of white espadrilles, and probably would have shoved them onto Amelia’s feet if Amelia hadn’t willingly stepped into them.

“I don’t know that, either.” But she’d better figure it out fast, because the door chimes were ringing impatiently.

CeCe dragged Amelia toward the bedroom door. “Come on. I’m dying to meet your Nick.”

“Don’t call him ‘my Nick.’ And don’t leave me alone with him,” Amelia implored.

“No, never,” CeCe replied with rippling laughter.

Hester Vanderling, the Carradignes’ housekeeper, met Amelia and CeCe at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, Amelia, there’s a gentleman here to see you. I’m not sure how he got past the downstairs security—”

“It’s all right. I told the guards to let him in,” Amelia said, soothing Hester with a pat on the shoulder. The spry, gray-haired woman was more than a servant. She’d been a part of the family for twenty-five years, serving as nanny to the three Carradigne princesses.

“Is this, um, the one?” Hester asked in a whisper. “The not-quite husband?” Hester’s feelings had been a bit injured when she learned of Amelia’s pseudo-marriage, splashed all over page seven in the Manhattan Chronicle by notorious gossip columnist Krissy Katwell. The princesses had always confided all their secrets in Hester, trusting her with things they never would have told even their mother.

Amelia wished now she could get Hester’s advice on how to handle the situation. But there was no more time for wishful thinking, because there he was, standing in the foyer, looking even more large and masculine than Amelia remembered, especially with the Carradignes’ delicate antiques and pastel silk wall coverings as a backdrop.

“Hello, Nick.” Her voice came out a squeak.

“Amelia.”

In a heartbeat time melted, taking Amelia back to a year ago, when this man had been her lifeline, her protector, her hero. Her skin prickled with awareness just at the sight of him, and he’d only said her name.

Once her tunnel vision returned to normal, Amelia realized Nick had the children with him, clinging to him like burrs. What were they doing here? Oh, how she’d hated saying goodbye to them a year ago, almost as much as she’d hated leaving Nick.

Amelia opened her arms. “Josie! Jakob! No kisses for your auntie Mellie?” Jakob, who had to be three now, squirmed away from Nick and ran to her like a friendly puppy. But Josie held back, her blue eyes full of caution.

Amelia gave Jakob a bear hug, smiling warmly at Josie over his head. Josie didn’t smile back, her expression carefully neutral.

The expression on Nick’s face was anything but neutral. His blue eyes seemed to devour Amelia inch by inch. She could tell he was angry—perhaps dangerously so. She’d seen those veiled blue eyes looking just like that whenever anyone got in his way.

His gaze shifted to CeCe just as CeCe nudged Amelia.

“Oh, excuse me. Nicholas Standish, this is my sister, Cecelia O’Connell. And Hester Vanderling, who practically raised us.”

Nick gave CeCe a suitably pleased-looking nod. “Princess Cecelia. Congratulations on your recent marriage.”

“Thank you.”

“And Mrs. Vanderling.” He shook Hester’s hand, and she giggled like a schoolgirl. Amelia was amazed Nick had the capacity to be so…so civilized, but she supposed their situation in Palemeir hadn’t called for much in the way of manners.

“Who are these cute little munchkins?” CeCe asked, her adoring gaze focused on the children.

“I’m Jakob,” the little boy said proudly. “Jakob Standish!”

The corner of Nick’s mouth lifted at the mention of his own surname tacked onto Jakob’s. The last time Amelia had seen them, Jakob had not been at all sure he wanted to go anywhere with large, gruff Nick, much less accept him as his father. Things must have improved a great deal since then, and all without her assistance. Certainly the children looked better. Jakob’s light brown hair had been cropped close, much like Nick’s, and his blue eyes sparkled with health. He’d gotten some color, too, and a few more freckles on his nose from being out in the sunshine. Josie’s hair, which had been dull and matted in Palemeir, was now a halo of shiny, golden curls.

Amelia felt a pang of regret that she hadn’t been part of this almost miraculous transformation and that she hadn’t helped the children settle into their new home.

Nick nudged the little girl’s shoulder, urging her forward. “This is Josie.”

Josie, who would be seven now, held out her hand, which still looked far too thin and delicate for Amelia’s peace of mind. “Pleased to meet you,” Josie said to CeCe and Hester with perfect manners, then added in a whisper to CeCe, “Are you really a princess, like Cinderella?”

CeCe laughed. “Well, I don’t have any glass slippers, and I ride to work in a limo rather than a pumpkin, but I did manage to catch myself a pretty good prince.”

Yeah, rub it in, Amelia thought. CeCe would be living out her own private fairy tale here in America while Amelia was whooshed off to a country she hadn’t visited since she was Josie’s age, where she didn’t even speak the native language.

Life wasn’t fair. But then, her work with the ICF had taught her that.

“Josie, you’ve gotten taller. I think you’ve grown a foot since I last saw you,” Amelia said, trying to get the little girl to warm up to her.

“But they both could use some fattening up,” said Hester. “I’ll bet Bernice has some fresh cookies in the kitchen.”

“Splendid idea,” CeCe said.

The children looked up hopefully at Nick.

“One cookie apiece,” Nick said.

Looking delighted, CeCe gave a hand to each. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Traitor,” Amelia muttered. But she would have to speak privately to Nick at some point. He had yet to tell her why he’d come here, and the sooner he did that, the sooner he would leave. And the sooner he left, the less chance she would make a fool of herself by begging him to smile at her again, to stop making her feel she’d done something criminal.

Even if she had.

Nick put his hands on his lean hips. “Are you going to ask me all the way into the royal penthouse, Your Highness?”

“Please don’t call me that,” Amelia said.

“What am I supposed to call you, then? Not Melanie.”

“You and the kids all called me Mellie. That could be short for Amelia, as well.”

“Nicknames are a show of fondness. I use them for friends. Doesn’t apply in this case.”

Well, he certainly had sharpened his tiger’s claws during their separation. But she’d be damned if she showed him how much he could hurt her.

NICK REFUSED to be impressed by the Carradignes’ terrace, where Melanie—Amelia—had led him. Apparently there was a spy in or near the household, someone providing tidbits to the gossip columnist, Krissy Katwell, and Amelia thought there would be less chance of someone overhearing their discussion if they went outside.

He hadn’t read any New York papers, but the Korosol press had gone to town with the story of the princess’s illicit marriage. They’d probably picked up the item from this Krissy person.

Nick had almost fainted when he’d discovered Melanie Lacey was actually Princess Amelia, granddaughter to the king of Korosol. She must have been slumming in Palemeir. Her way of dabbling in charity work. Her little deception had thrown his life into chaos.

Fortunately the rain had stopped. Nick and Amelia sat on opposite ends of a bench in the center of an oasis of trees and shrubs that rivaled Central Park. The greenery sheltered them somewhat from the damp March breeze.

He enjoyed the discomfort reflected on Amelia’s face, her stiff, too-regal posture. He wanted to needle her. He wanted to do more than that, after the hell she’d put him through. Unfortunately, he also wanted to bed her. A year’s separation hadn’t taken the edge off his desire.

A year ago, he’d naively thought a marriage license might afford him that privilege. But once the adoption papers had been filed immediately after their hasty wedding, she’d deserted him.

He wouldn’t trust her again. He’d ask for her help, but this time he’d make sure there were no loopholes.

She looked fantastic, he conceded. He’d been half-afraid she would look different in her princess environment, with her hair tortured into some silly style, maybe wearing a tiara and two pounds of makeup. But she was still just Mellie, a natural beauty who required no enhancement. That tumble of gold curls was as unruly as ever, inviting a man’s fingers to bury themselves in them. Her green eyes still flashed emerald bright, even out of the intense Palemeiran sun. And her body was just as curvy and luscious as he remembered, more tempting in a casual, flower-sprigged dress.

“So what’s going on? Why are you here?” Amelia asked point-blank.

“It’s those do-gooders at the Ministry of Family,” Nick said. “News of our marriage—and that it wasn’t legal—has been picked up in Korosol. The fact you dumped me on our wedding day has brought social workers down on me like a ton of bricks. They say it’s obvious the marriage was a fraud, and so was the adoption. Thanks.”

Amelia gasped. “They want to take the children from you? They can’t!”

“Apparently they can. Korosol isn’t America. There’s not any legal recourse. The Ministry of Family will investigate, and their decision is final.”

“But surely they’ll find you’re a good father. You’re very devoted to those children.”

“How would you know? You haven’t been around for the past year—a fact that hasn’t escaped the social workers’ notice. They say we got married with fraudulent intent, adopting children without ever meaning to live as a family. They’re old-fashioned in Korosol.”

Amelia looked away. “That’s my fault, I suppose. But I couldn’t stay in Palemeir. The ICF wanted me out of there, and I had to do what they said.”

“So you just abandoned your new husband and the children who needed you. Do you have any idea how badly you disappointed Josie?” And him, although he’d shoot himself before he’d admit that to Amelia.

His barb hit its mark. He saw the sheen of tears in her eyes, but she ruthlessly blinked them back. “We both knew the marriage was strictly so you could get the children out of the country,” she said. “Even if it had been legal, it was a sham.”

He intentionally softened his voice. “That kiss at the airport didn’t feel like a sham.”

Amelia’s face turned a flattering shade of pink. She had no ready comeback, and all she could do was look away. He was glad to know that kiss had affected her as it had him. There they’d been, arguing at the Palemeir airport—if one dirt airstrip and a cinder-block terminal could be called that—and suddenly they’d been in each other’s arms. They’d never kissed before, not even at their wedding.

That kiss, long and slow and hot, had been everything Nick had fantasized about, and more. He thought he’d won, that he’d convinced her to stay with him. Then he’d realized it was a kiss goodbye.

“I wanted to at least see you and the children to Korosol,” she finally said. “But the children were already getting attached to me. It was better that I left when I did. Surely you can see that.”

All right, maybe she had a point. There had never been any question that the marriage was one of convenience. He and Mellie had been friends—good, close friends, bonding quickly the way people do in adversity—but nothing more, not that he hadn’t wished for more.

They had never discussed a future together, and in fact, what could he have offered her? He was not husband material, and never would be—never again. For that matter, he wasn’t really great father material, either. He was no longer capable of fully opening his heart to a child. But in the last year he’d grown so fiercely protective of those kids that he would die for them. Mellie was right about that. Maybe he didn’t always say the right thing. Maybe he was too strict. But he refused to let anything bad happen to them—including another major disruption in their home life. He would fight the Ministry of Family with every weapon in his arsenal to prevent them from ripping the kids away from him and thrusting them into foster care.

After a few moments, Amelia was more composed. She sat up straighter, and in a brisk tone, said, “I’d like to help with your situation. What can I do?”

“I would think that would be obvious. You’re a princess. Your grandfather is my king, and he’s here. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I know he is still here, that he didn’t return to Korosol after CeCe’s wedding. My sister could never keep secrets from me.” Nick had tracked Eleanor down in New York, and had figured out that if she was here, so was the king.

“So you want me to intercede on your behalf.”

“You get an A.”

She looked uneasy, which he didn’t understand. The request he’d made of her was simple—far simpler than falsifying marriage licenses and adoption papers.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I’ll do what I can, of course. But it’s not as simple as you make it sound. First, I’m not exactly on intimate terms with my grandfather. I barely know him. And second, I’m certainly not among King Easton’s favorites right now.”

“Ah. He doesn’t like it when his princesses make the gossip columns?”

“Exactly. And third, he’s a stickler for following the letter of the law. He doesn’t micromanage his country. Interfering with the Ministry of Family’s normal course of business isn’t his style.”

“You’re saying you won’t even try?”

“No, I’ll give it my best shot. But I think we should see him together, present a united front. It’s the best chance we have.”

Exactly what Eleanor had suggested.

“We should probably bring the children with us, too,” Amelia continued. “It couldn’t hurt for Easton to see you all together, as a family.”

“Let’s do it, then.” He stood up, anxious to get his audience with the king over with. The sooner he got this mess straightened out, the sooner he could get his kids back home to the peace and quiet of Montavi, the little mountain town where he was building a new life for himself and the children. And the sooner he could get away from this woman who’d lied to him but still made him tingle in uncomfortable ways.

Amelia laughed. “We can’t just walk in on him. We’ll have to make an appointment. Fortunately, your sister is the one who can set it up.”

“I’ll talk to her, then.” Hell, he’d pulled Josie out of school for this trip, thinking it wouldn’t hurt her to miss a couple of days of first grade. But now it looked as if she might miss a week or more, and she was already a year behind because of the language problem.

“I’ll show myself out.” He turned and headed toward the terrace doors, wondering where he might find his children in this monstrous penthouse.

“Nick?”

He stopped, turned.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I really was. But not even the ICF knew my true identity back then. If the truth had gotten out, it could have created a security nightmare. Keeping my identity secret is second nature to me. But you’re right, I should have explained before I…before I married you. I didn’t think through the possible repercussions, and I’m truly sorry.”

He was surprised by her candor and seeming sincerity. He’d expected her to be different than he remembered her. A year ago, she’d just been a dedicated volunteer who never complained about physical hardships. He’d even seen her give away her own dinner more than once.

He’d had a hard time reconciling that selfless, friendly woman with a Korosolian princess. But now that he’d seen her again, she seemed much the same as before—a fact that was dangerous to his peace of mind. Saying goodbye to her the first time had been torture. And unless he wanted to go through it all again, he’d better harden his heart.




Chapter Two


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?




Chapter Three


Macy’s opened early on Sunday morning specifically for a private royal shopping party. As Amelia shopped for baby things with her two sisters and Hester, she couldn’t get her mind off Nick’s dilemma.

No wife, no adoption, no kids.

“Hey, how about this?” Lucia held up a hot-pink romper embossed with psychedelic flowers.

“Mmm, cute,” Amelia said absently.

“Cute?” CeCe repeated. “It’s ghastly. Even Lucia knows it’s ghastly, and she’s a bohemian. She was trying to get a reaction out of you, and you aren’t paying the least bit of attention. I need your help with the nursery decor.”

“I’m sorry,” Amelia said. “I’m just a little distracted.”

“Poor dear,” Hester said, putting her arm around Amelia. “It’s that Nicholas, isn’t it. You’ve been blue ever since he showed up. Well, he’ll be gone soon.”

“That’s just what worries me,” Amelia said, sinking into a cherry-wood rocking chair. “He believes he doesn’t have a prayer with the Ministry of Family. But he’s not about to relinquish those kids. I’m afraid he’ll do something desperate.”

“You mean like kidnap the kids and take them to Canada or somewhere?” Lucia asked, pulling up her own rocking chair.

“Exactly. Nick is a skilled mercenary and survivalist,” Amelia said, anxiety building in her chest. “He could slip across any border undetected. But that’s no way to bring up children. They need a stable, safe home.”

“Stable and safe is overrated,” Lucia said, drawing one leg up and resting her chin on her knee. “You’ve said that yourself a million times.”

“Yes, but I’m an adult. With children it’s different.”

“Children love adventure, too.”

Lucia was the real rebel in the family. She lived in a loft in SoHo despite their mother’s vociferous objections, crafting avant-garde jewelry in her studio and actually selling it to the public. Charlotte thought it was far too common an activity for a princess, but Lucia was starting to make a name for herself. Her brooches and earrings were showing up on debutantes all over New York, and even a few Hollywood actresses had been seen displaying Lucia’s designs.

With her shoulder-length blond hair hanging loose and windblown, and her flamboyant clothes, Lucia looked even less like a princess than Amelia. But the girl had a spine of steel and the will and determination of a charging rhinoceros. Secretly, Amelia thought Lucia might make a very good queen. She would love the attention, at any rate. But Easton had chosen Amelia instead because she was the next in line, and that was that.

“It’s a shame dear old Granddad didn’t come through for Nick,” CeCe said, sitting on the edge of a carved wooden toy chest. “He can be a rigid old goat sometimes.”

“Cecelia,” Hester scolded. “We don’t speak that way about our king.” But she pulled up a chair, too, and pretty soon the four of them were deep in conversation, the shopping expedition forgotten. The salespeople and bodyguards all politely withdrew out of earshot.

“I don’t understand why this Family Minister or whatever wants to take the kids away from Nick if he’s such a good father,” Lucia said. “I mean, so he’s single. Big deal. Single people in America adopt all the time. And it’s not like potential parents stand in line to adopt older children.”

“Ministry of Family,” Hester corrected. “Korosol isn’t America. They’re much more traditional and old-fashioned than we are here. But it does seem a shame that a little technicality like lack of a wife should keep Nick from holding on to Jakob and Josie.”

“Hey, what if he married someone else?” CeCe asked.

“Yeah, why not?” Lucia said. “A guy like that shouldn’t have any trouble finding a wife. He could probably snap his fingers, and a dozen would stand in line.”

“He already thought of that,” Amelia answered quickly, dismayed at how disturbed she felt at the thought of Nick marrying someone else. “He would run into the same problem he has now. The Ministry of Family is hung up on the fact that Nick got married solely to facilitate the adoption. If he entered into another quickie marriage, it would be obvious what he was up to. So that’s not the answer,” she concluded, relieved she could argue so eloquently against CeCe’s idea. It made her squirm to picture Nick with some other woman—only because she worried that another woman might not care about the children the way she did, Amelia reassured herself.

“Hmm.” Lucia tapped her chin, looking thoughtful.

“I just feel so terrible,” Amelia said. “It’s my fault he’s in this pickle. I ought to do something to—what do you mean, ‘Hmm’?” Amelia zeroed in on Lucia. Of all of them, Lucia was the most used to thinking outside the box—which made her a constant worry to their mother. But she was also a great problem-solver.

“How badly do you want to be queen?” Lucia asked.

That was a good question. “I want to do it, I guess. It’s an amazing opportunity. I’m not crazy about the idea of giving up anything resembling a private life, but I’m willing. Why?”

“I’ve got an idea—but it might kill your chances with Grandfather.”

Oh, dear. Lucia had that look of daring in her eyes that had always gotten them all in trouble when they were kids.

“Well, speak up, girl, what is it?” Hester urged.

“Amelia, why don’t you simply marry Nick—for real, nice and legal?”

Amelia’s heart hitched at the very thought before reality reasserted itself. She threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, for heaven’s—”

“No, no, wait, hear me out,” Lucia said. “This is good. By marrying Nick and readopting the children, you prove to the Ministry of Family that you really were serious back in Palemeir, and it was just circumstances that separated you. You solve Nick’s problem.”

Lucia’s suggestion met with stunned silence for a few seconds. Then CeCe spoke up. “And she also renders herself ineligible for the throne. I mean, a queen can’t marry an ex-mercenary and adopt children. Right?”

“Nick is a handsome devil,” Hester added. “If I were a few years younger and didn’t have my Quincy, I’d marry him.”

“Yeah, not a bad bonus, getting to share a bed with him.”

“Lucia!” Amelia felt the heat rising in her face because her sister had voiced exactly what she’d been thinking. “You’ve never even met him.”

“Yeah, but CeCe told me he was hot.”

“I said he was handsome,” CeCe objected.

Amelia laughed. “You all can’t be serious…can you?”

Three pairs of eyes looked expectantly at her.

“But he’s furious with me. He would never agree to it.”

“From what you’ve said,” CeCe pointed out, “Nick would do whatever it took to keep those kids.”

Amelia had to concede that was true.

“Anyway, it’s not like you have to stay married the rest of your lives,” Lucia pointed out. “Once the Minister’s Family is convinced the marriage was genuine after all, they’ll turn their attention elsewhere, and you and Nick can quietly divorce.”

Amelia gave her younger sister a friendly shoulder nudge. “Trying to get rid of me so you can be queen?”

Everyone laughed at that. “Grandfather dearest isn’t about to hand over his precious country to me,” Lucia said. “Not after the spectacle I made of myself at CeCe’s wedding.” She was referring to the fact that she’d shown up at the sumptuous society wedding on the arm of a rock singer. “He’ll have to look elsewhere for an heir to the throne. I mean, we’re not his only grandchildren. There’s always Cousin Markus to fall back on.”

Amelia shook her head. “I’m not marrying Nick. Mother would have a fit. She wants one of us to be queen so she can play Queen Mum.”

That produced another round of laughter. Charlotte wasn’t the Queen Mum type. She had her own empire to run—DeLacey Shipping. But she did want to keep peace with the king now that they were somewhat reconciled, and she did hope for great things for her daughters. She would be terribly disappointed if Amelia sabotaged her chance to inherit the throne of Korosol.

For the time being, discussion of Amelia marrying Nick was put on the back burner, for which she was grateful. The four women launched themselves into shopping in earnest. But one phrase kept running through Amelia’s mind…

No wife, no adoption, no kids.

When they arrived back at the penthouse, arms laden with sacks and boxes for the nursery, Bernice, Charlotte’s rotund, rosy-cheeked cook, enticed the sisters to have lunch before they all went their separate ways. Charlotte joined them. Amelia had hoped her grandfather, who was staying at the penthouse, might also venture out and share in the meal. In a more informal setting, she might broach the subject of Nick and Josie and Jakob again. But he took his meal in his room, which he often did.

Charlotte presided over lunch as if it were a board meeting. Her slim stature, erect posture and short, tousled white hair made her look far younger than her fifty years. She was deeply concerned about her girls’ futures, but she had spent so much time away from her daughters when they were young that none of them felt terribly close to her.

“So, Amelia,” Charlotte began as they all munched on crab-salad croissants around a table on the screened lanai, “how did Mr. Standish’s audience with the king go?”

“That was yesterday,” Lucia commented. “You’re just now asking?”

“I’ve been busy,” Charlotte said tightly. “We’ve got the dock workers threatening to strike and a new ship to ready for dedication next week. The mayor’s coming for that one, you know.”

Lucia poked her fork into the crunchy end of her croissant. “I thought you were interested in Nick’s audience.”

“I am, of course. And I’m sure Amelia will tell me what happened, if you’ll stop sniping at me.”

“Sniping? All I did was—”

“Knock it off, Lucia,” Amelia said wearily. “You were picking a fight and you know it.” Lucia and Charlotte mixed about as well as gasoline and matches. All of her life, Amelia had been the peacekeeper. If it wasn’t Lucia trying to establish her independence, it was CeCe trying too hard to compete with her mother, though Charlotte had been getting along better with CeCe since learning of her impending grandchild. Charlotte, who had not been the most attentive of mothers while the princesses were growing up, intended to make up for it with her grandchildren.

“You’re right,” Lucia said grudgingly. “Sorry, Mother.”

Charlotte smiled at Lucia. “My little drama queen. You always did like to scrap. I’ve always had that problem myself.” Crisis averted, Amelia related to her mother what had happened during Nick’s brief audience.

“He can be so inflexible,” Charlotte said in an exasperated reference to the king. “And once he’s made up his mind, there’s no changing it.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Amelia blotted her mouth and set her napkin on the table, no longer hungry. She couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. She had to at least talk to Nick one more time. He’d avoided her and all of the New York Carradignes like Ebola ever since their audience yesterday. She’d pried the name of his hotel out of Eleanor, and left half a dozen messages, but he wouldn’t return her calls.

Each hour that passed with no word from him increased Amelia’s suspicion that he was going to do something crazy. And she was powerless to stop him.

Or was she?

Quincy Vanderling, Hester’s husband, opened the door and stepped onto the lanai. “Begging your pardon, ladies,” he said even as he grabbed an olive off Amelia’s plate and popped it into his mouth. He then smoothed his thinning white hair in a gesture of nonchalance.

When Hester had come to America to work for Lady Charlotte and Prince Drake shortly after their marriage, a besotted Quincy had followed, eventually hired as the Carradignes’ butler—and as Hester’s husband. Slightly stooped and a little husky, he wasn’t very butlerish. But he was utterly devoted to Hester and the Carradigne family.

“What is it, Quincy?” Charlotte asked.

“Miss Eleanor Standish is here. She needs to deliver some faxes to the king, but she would like to pay her respects to you all as well. Want me to put her in the Grand Room?”

Ellie! Exactly who Amelia needed to see. She popped out of her chair. “I’ll bring her out here. Maybe she’ll want a sandwich—there’s plenty of crab salad left.”

Amelia wended her way through the kitchen and up the back stairs, following Quincy as he led her to Ellie, who was just coming out of the king’s suite. She heard the king’s final murmured words to her as she closed the door behind her.

“Here you go,” Quincy said, then shuffled off to do whatever it was he did when he wasn’t butlering—possibly getting himself a little nip of sherry.

“Amelia!” Eleanor said as she shoved some papers into her briefcase. “You didn’t have to escort me down. I just wanted to pop in and say hi to everyone.”

“But I wanted to speak to you privately,” Amelia said. Not here in the hallway, though, where someone might overhear. She led Ellie into an empty suite across the hall from Easton’s quarters and closed the door.

“Why all the mystery?”

“Is Nick still in New York?”

Ellie looked at her watch. “For about forty more minutes. His plane leaves at 2:05.”

“Plane to where?”

“To Korosol, of course. Where did you think?”

“LaGuardia, or JFK?” Amelia asked urgently.

“JFK.”

“What airline?”

“Air France, I think. Amelia, what is this about?” She gave Ellie a quick hug. “I don’t have time to explain. Tell the family I’m…running an errand.”

She sprinted down the hall to her own room, not really thinking or planning her actions, just running on pure instinct. There was no time to order the limo—she would have to take a taxi. She’d regretted her decision to abandon Nick and the kids to the fates. This was the only way to make it right again.

From her room she grabbed big sunglasses, a hat and a long, bulky jacket that disguised her figure, which sometimes drew unintended attention despite the fact she did little to show it off. As she crept down the main stairs, she stuffed her telltale blond curls into the hat, shoved the glasses onto her face and donned the jacket.

She would have to sneak past the security station. The guard on duty couldn’t keep his eyes on everything at the same time. While he checked the various monitors, she darted past him to the elevator. Ordinarily she was expected to let security know where she was going, but she didn’t have time for lengthy explanations.

Her luck held—no one saw her exit the Carradignes’ private elevator. Walking without her usual bold stride and confident gaze, shuffling along staring at the ground in front of her, she was a master at blending into crowds when she had to.

Once outside, she quickly secured a cab. “JFK, please, and there’s an extra twenty in it for you if you make it to the Air France gate in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, lady!” the Ethiopian driver said. He punched the gas pedal and the car jolted forward.

Amelia’s luck held out as they encountered no traffic jams in the Queens Tunnel. The cabbie made it with two minutes to spare. Amelia shoved some cash at him and leaped out of the taxi without a backward glance.

She found the flight to Korosol on the Air France monitor. It was on time, probably the only flight all afternoon that wasn’t running behind. So much for luck. She dashed through the airport until she reached the gate, which was devoid of passengers. Everyone had boarded already, but the plane was still at the gate.

Amelia zeroed in on the ticket agent. “I really need to speak to someone on that plane,” she implored.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t—Oh my gosh, you’re Princess Amelia.”

Amelia decided that for once she could use her royal heritage to advantage. “Yes, I am, and this is a matter of great importance to…to the royal family.” Well, a small part of it, anyway.

The ticket agent conferred with her co-worker, then looked back at Amelia. “The passenger’s name?”

“Nicholas Standish.”

She began punching buttons on her computer, driving Amelia wild with impatience. What was she doing?

The agent appeared confused. “Nicholas Standish is on the list, but he never checked onto this flight. Neither did Jakob or Josie Standish.”

Amelia stifled a gasp. It was just as she feared. Nick was running away with the kids. Think, Mellie, think. What would be his plan? He would go somewhere where he and the children could speak the language. Of course, Nick could speak half a dozen languages with some facility. But the children…only three. English, Russian and some French.

Canada—it had to be Canada. She thanked the agent, then walked as briskly as she dared without drawing attention down the terminal toward Canadian Airways.

He would go to a big city, where he could become anonymous. Quebec? Toronto? They spoke French in Quebec. Amelia checked the monitor. One flight had left at one-thirty, another was scheduled for three-fifteen. She went to the gate for the later flight. No Nick, no children.

Her hopes sank. Finding Nick in this airport would be like finding a particular grain of sand on a beach. He might have taken a completely different airline. For that matter, he might have gone to a different airport. Or he might be driving across the border with forged documents.

Amelia had one last idea. She went to an information phone and dialed the operator. “I need to page Nicholas Standish. Can you ask him to meet…his wife at the Canadian Airways ticket counter?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’d be happy to do that for you.”

A few seconds later, the page went out over the loudspeaker. Amelia found a chair across from Canadian Airways and sat down to watch and wait.

NICK NEARLY JUMPED out of his skin when he heard his name over the loudspeaker.

“Uncle Nick, they just called your name,” Josie said, sounding alarmed. “Are we in trouble for missing our plane?”

Nick smiled at her. “No, Josie. But I’d better find out what’s going on.” The only person who knew he was here was Ellie. His hopes rose. Maybe she had news from the king. Maybe Easton had changed his mind.

He and the children had missed their flight to Korosol. They’d had plenty of time, but as he stood in line to check in, Nick hadn’t been able to take that next step. He wasn’t sure why. Clearly there was nothing else to be done to further his cause in New York. But the thought of returning to his village and waiting passively while the Ministry of Family took steps to remove his children…well, it was a difficult step to take.

He’d taken the kids to a fast-food place and bought them chocolate shakes to give him some time to think, though the previous two days of thinking hadn’t yielded good results.

There was a courtesy phone right across from the restaurant where they’d gotten the shakes. Nick could answer the page and still keep watch over the kids.

“Be right back,” he said. Moments later he was talking to an operator.

“Yes, Mr. Standish. Your wife would like you to meet her at the Canadian Airways ticket counter.”

“My wife?” Not Ellie, then. Couldn’t be anyone but Amelia. His heart beat double time at the implications her words conjured up. What was the princess up to this time? And how the hell had she figured out he was thinking about Canada? “Thank you.”

Though he’d studiously avoided returning her calls, there was no way he could ignore Amelia’s summons.

He gathered up the kids and luggage—thankfully they’d traveled light, having planned for only a weekend—and headed for the rendezvous point, walking so fast that Josie had to trot to keep up with him.

He saw Amelia before she saw him. Though she’d hidden her magnificent gold hair under a hat and wore huge dark glasses, he was intimately familiar with her body language. She sat in a chair with one knee drawn up under the skirt of her flowery dress. He tried to summon some anger against her for the torture she’d caused him, but right now she looked so worried he realized she carried some burdens of her own.

“Auntie Mellie!” Jakob squirmed from Nick’s arms and ran toward Amelia, whose face lit up with joy at the sight of him—at all of them. She rose and welcomed Jakob into a hug. Whether the boy remembered Amelia from Palemeir, he’d certainly taken a shine to her here in New York.

“What’s she doing here?” Josie asked, instantly suspicious.

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”

Amelia had a smile for Josie, too, but when she looked up at Nick, the smile faded and she looked almost…afraid. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I found you. I was taking a stab in the dark with that page, but you weren’t on the Air France flight to Korosol, and I was so worried you’d run off to Canada or someplace—I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

Nick nodded. Yes, he’d thought about fleeing. He’d even talked to an expert document forger about false passports and birth certificates for him and the kids. But that would be a last resort. Becoming a fugitive would mean no more contact with Eleanor, and that would be tough—not to mention what it might do to the kids.

“Is there a problem?” Nick asked. “Something wrong with my sister?”

“No, nothing like that. You missed your plane. Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was hoping I’d come up with a plan for changing King Easton’s mind, but…”

“We don’t have to change his mind,” Amelia said with quiet determination. “I’ve got a plan of my own. Now, it might not be ideal, but I believe it will get the social workers off your back.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

Amelia suddenly clammed up, looking uneasy.

“What plan?” Josie prompted, proving she’d been paying close attention to the conversation.

“This is a little awkward,” Amelia said, glancing at first one child, then the other. “Maybe you and I should discuss it in private first.”

Josie rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Jakob, they’re going to talk about grown-up things.” She took her little brother’s hand and led him to the far end of the row of chairs, taking her brightly colored rolling suitcase with her. As soon as Nick was sure the children were safely absorbed with a toy, he turned his attention back to Amelia, his curiosity overflowing.

“Just tell me.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Well, see, if the Ministry of Family objects to the fact our marriage was a sham, we need to prove to them it wasn’t. We’ll tell them we intended to make it real, but my family objected and ordered me back home—”

“I tried that already.”

“I’m not finished. Words obviously won’t convince them. Only actions. I’m suggesting, Nick, that we get married again—nice and legal this time.”




Chapter Four


Nick was so stunned he could say nothing at all for a few moments. Then, his first instinct was to say, No way. Marrying Amelia was what had gotten him into this jam in the first place.

But everything she’d said was true. He had told the Ministry of Family the exact story she’d just related—that they’d fallen in love and intended to be a family, but the royal family had intervened and forced them to separate.

“Nick? You’re not saying anything.”

“Give me a minute. You’ve surprised me, to say the least.”

“I surprised myself. But I cannot allow those precious children to be taken from you, not after everything they’ve been through.”

Nick finally began to recover from the shock and think rationally about Amelia’s suggestion. It was crazy—him marrying a princess—but it just might work. It would certainly lend credence to the story he’d told the government officials. He turned the idea over in his head a few times, trying to find its flaws.

One, in particular, came up immediately. “If your family tore us apart before, why would they now let you marry me?”

“It’s not like I need their permission,” she huffed. “This is an enlightened age. I can marry whom I want. I let them interfere a year ago because I was scared and confused. But seeing you and the children again made me realize we should all be together. You’ve realized it, too—that’s why you came.”

She sounded so sincere, he almost believed her. “Are you bucking for an Academy Award?”

“I only want to convince you it will work.”

“And what will the terms of this marriage be?” He wanted to know.

“We’ll have a simple ceremony, family only.”

He was less concerned with the details of the wedding itself than the events afterward. “You’ll come back with us to Korosol?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead. I was thinking the wedding itself would be enough to do the trick.”

“Will we stay married?” he asked quietly.

“Long enough to be convincing. Then we can quietly separate.”

“Long enough? A few days? Weeks? What? And you actually think a princess can ‘quietly separate’?”

He’d caught her there. Her gaze slid away from his. “I haven’t worked out all the details yet. But it’ll work, I know it will.”

Nick took a deep breath. This was about the most bloodless proposal he’d ever—then again, when the tables had been turned and he’d been proposing marriage to “Melanie,” he’d been just as pragmatic, just as emotionless. He’d wanted her name on a marriage license so he could get those kids out of Palemeir, and he’d given her no other reason.

Maybe if, at that time, he’d confessed his physical desire for her, his genuine affection and respect for her, things would have turned out differently. Certainly he didn’t like the idea that he’d made Amelia feel then as he felt now—forced to say yes for the children’s sake.

“I assume you would want a prenuptial agreement. You keep your money, I keep the kids.”

She hesitated. “If that’s what you want.” She paused, then looked at him quizzically. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well, you don’t have to make it sound like I’ve proposed tar and feathering.”

“Forgive me if I don’t jump up and down. I realize you’re making a sacrifice on behalf of the children, and I appreciate it. But I resent the government pushing me around, forcing us to go to these ridiculous lengths just so I can keep two children who any idiot can see belong with me.”

“It’s not really such a sacrifice,” she said quietly. “I want to help. And I was, after all, the one who contributed to the dilemma in the first place.”

“Have you mentioned your little plan to your family?”

“Actually, it was my sister Lucia who thought of it.”

“Not the sister I met.”

“No, that was CeCe. Lucia’s the youngest. Very creative.”

“So your family approves of this decision?”

She hesitated again. “Not exactly. I haven’t mentioned it to my mother, and certainly not to the king.” She looked distinctly uneasy at that proposition. “They’ll just have to accept it.”

“Then I guess we’re engaged.” He took Amelia’s hand and led her over to the children. It was amazing how delicate her hand felt in his, like the bones might break if he weren’t careful. But he knew that impression was deceiving. Her hands were strong and capable, but gentle, too. He’d often wondered how they would feel on his body.

He didn’t imagine he would get to find out. Amelia was marrying him for the sake of his children, not to satisfy his libidinous curiosity.

Josie and Jakob looked up from their play. “Children, your uncle Nick is going to marry a princess.”

“Does this mean we’ll get to stay with you?” Josie asked, hope lighting her eyes for the first time since she arrived in New York. He was amazed how sharp her mind was, how quickly she figured things out.

“Yes, it does,” Nick said.

“Auntie Mellie will live with us?” Jakob asked. “She’ll be our mama?”

Amelia gave a small gasp. She started to say something, but Josie beat her to it.

“No,” Josie said sharply. “Our mother is dead.”

Jakob’s little face fell.

Nick felt an alien urge to pick up the child and cuddle him. But while protecting these children came as second nature, showing them love or affection was another matter entirely. He knew they needed love, but he wasn’t the one who could give it to them.

“Your real mother is in heaven, Jakob,” he finally said. “And you’ll always love her in a special way because she brought you into the world.”

“But can Auntie Mellie be Mama, too?”

Amelia looked at Nick, her eyes pleading with him not to blow this. Hell, he didn’t have the slightest idea what to say.

“She’s Auntie Mellie,” Josie said stubbornly. “Don’t be a baby, Jakob.”

“I’m happy just being your auntie,” Amelia said, finding her voice. She pulled her hand from Nick’s light grasp and crouched down until she was at Jakob’s level. “We’ll take this one day at a time, okay? We don’t know yet who is going to live where and when. But we do know that you kids will stay with your uncle Nick, no matter what. Okay?”

Both children nodded, but Nick was feeling a bit shell-shocked from the conversation. Jakob had never once expressed any interest in calling Nick “Papa.”

AMELIA’S HEART hadn’t stopped pounding since Nick had agreed to marry her. She must be out of her mind, to make such a sudden decision without consulting anyone, and carry it out so quickly.

She was committed now, though. She’d waffled with Nick once before, and she intended to keep her word this time. But the real test was whether they could actually make the marriage happen. Her grandfather was not going to be happy with her choice of husband, and she feared what actions he might take against Nick, who was a Korosolian and subject to Easton’s rule. What if the king had Nick arrested? Easton said he didn’t like interfering in private citizens’ affairs, but he might change his mind in a hurry when it came to a threat to the royal succession.

As they rode up the private elevator to the Carradigne penthouse, Amelia’s apprehension grew. She’d spouted a lot of brave words to Nick about how she was a modern woman free to marry whom she chose, but when it came right down to it, she was afraid of displeasing her mother. Though Amelia got along better with Charlotte than her two sisters did, Charlotte had always been faintly disapproving of her middle daughter’s obsession with war orphans and her lack of interest in matters closer to home.

Amelia doubted Charlotte would jump for joy over her daughter marrying an ex-mercenary. She had certainly not taken the news of Amelia and Nick’s first “marriage” well.

The elevator opened onto the foyer. Amelia gave a nod and a smile to Quincy, who’d been dozing at his post. He looked surprised to see her.

“Where did you come from?” Quincy asked.

“Oh, just out,” she said breezily. “Could you be a dear, Quincy, and round up the family? I have an important announcement to make. Ask them to meet in the Grand Room.”

Quincy stood up and nodded. “Yes, Miss Amelia, right away.” He scurried off to do her bidding.

She turned back to her soon-to-be family. “Big news like this deserves a formal setting.” She led Nick and the children into the huge formal living area that was used for entertaining.

“How many rooms does this house have?” Josie asked.

“More than any one family needs,” Amelia replied, thinking about the two-room apartment the children had occupied in Palemeir. And that home had been considered luxurious accommodations. Sometimes Amelia felt guilty over the opulence of her lifestyle in America when she was faced with how the less fortunate lived.




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