The Unlawfully Wedded Princess. Kara Lennox

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ