Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Author's Note
Acknowledgments
About Jennifer Chance
Copyright
Courted
Gowns & Crowns, Book 1
Jennifer Chance
Copyright © 2015 by Jennifer Chance
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 9781943768042
Cover design by Liz Bemis, Bemis Promotions
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase/Download only authorized editions.
Introducing…
Gowns & Crowns
New Adult Modern Royals Romances
Check out the whole series at http://www.jenniferchance.com and sign up for Jenn’s newsletter for updates, news and special giveaways!
For Liz Bemis,
Who lived Happily Ever After
Chapter 1
Em Andrews gazed out over the crystal blue water…
Forget that. If she was standing in the middle of an honest-to-God fairy-tale kingdom, this daydream was going to start off the Best. Way. Possible.
Princess Emmaline Aurora Grace gazed out over her seaside paradise kingdom as sunlight danced over crystal blue water and members of her gorgeous, strapping royal guard trained in the crashing surf, preparing to protect the kingdom from—
“Yo, Em! Where’s the suntan lotion? I’m about to fry my face off!”
Em snapped back into focus and swung around, squinting as her best friend in the entire world ground to a halt in the sand beside her. Gasping for breath after the blurted demand, Nicki Clark braced her hands on her thighs, her reddish-gold hair and turquoise running tank plastered with sweat, her back heaving as she sucked in air.
“Red bag, side compartment,” Em said, mentally picturing her packing list for the day’s tote, everything neatly tucked into place. She would have grabbed the bag herself, except a tanned foot with perfectly polished toes snaked out of the shadow of the enormous hotel-monogrammed beach umbrella to kick it their way, the rasp following it as dark as death.
“Nicki, for the love of God… Silence.”
“Lauren! You’re up! You should have come jogging with me and Fran!” Nicki dropped to a squat and began rooting through Em’s provision bag as a muttered curse floated out from under the umbrella. “Best thing in the world to knock out a hangover.”
“Right after I finish icing my face. Promise.”
“Where is Fran, anyway?” Em returned her gaze to the beach. It was filling up with tourists and sunbathers, but the last member of their group was nowhere to be seen. “You didn’t lose her, did you?”
“Hardly. There was some sort of Farmers Market setting up. It looked awesome, but I wasn’t going to stop my run for it.” Nicki liberated the suntan lotion. “Fran found some sort of scarf thingy hanging from a rack and refused to move until she could buy it.”
She sank onto the beach blanket, then grabbed a towel and a squeeze bottle of water to sponge herself off. “I’m here now, though, so if you wanna take a walk, feel free. I’ll make sure nothing takes off on its own while Lauren is in recovery.”
Em smiled, nodding her thanks. Nicki knew her too well—she wouldn’t go wandering off to enjoy this beautiful day if Lauren might need her to go fetch food, water, or possibly a physician after she’d decided she could hold her own in a tsipouro drinking contest the evening before.
It’d been their first night in this idyllic kingdom, the second and southernmost stop on their European tour. A tiny country carved out of the mountains of Greece and edged by the glorious Aegean Sea, Garronia was an anomaly in the modern world—a nation run by royalty, and apparently run well.
But regardless of its governmental prowess, what Garronia really excelled in was looking amazing. Em turned again to gaze out over the smooth, sun-kissed water of the Aegean, then headed for the shoreline, her feet sinking into the soft white sand. If she were Nicki, she’d come up with the perfect words to describe the water’s particular shades of blue. Then again, if she were Nicki, she wouldn’t be focusing on the pretty picture the Aegean Sea made at all. She’d be analyzing riptides and undercurrents, trying to set up the perfect scenario for an impromptu wind-surfing competition.
But Em wasn’t interested in cataloging their European odyssey for some extreme travel blog. She wanted to immerse herself in it, diving into the inherent escape it provided, if only for a little while. Floating on the Aegean, she could forget about the letter she’d received before she left Kansas City, the rich, creamy stationery, the crisp typed words. Final scholarship deferment… Decision needed…sincerely hope you will consider…
No. She didn’t need to think about any of that. Not yet, anyway.
Now she needed simply to revel in the glittering waves that had been beckoning to her all morning. She wasn’t totally used to swimming in open water, but she couldn’t resist the lure of the gorgeous, jewellike azure sea. It already seemed to hold her in its shifting grip, drawing her out, pulling her deep…
“Watch out!”
Em didn’t have time to react as a pair of large, powerful hands planted themselves on her upper arms, then lifted her off the sand a good two inches and thrust her to the side as if she were some sort of toy. A phalanx of the training navy guys, or whatever they were, pounded past, but as soon as they hit some imaginary mark in the sand, the fastest one of them turned and sprinted back to her. He wore long scuba-style tights and a gray tank emblazoned with Cyrillic writing she couldn’t make out. Still, it looked close enough to Greek that the guy could have been any US frat boy and given a whole new meaning to the term “Rush.”
He was just—beautiful. There was no other word for it. Muscles bulged out of his tank top and gave definition to his deeply tanned skin, and even beneath his thick tights, his legs still managed to look wickedly cut. His dark hair was just long enough to curl, and as Em stared, he raked a hand through it, pushing it back from sun-bronzed skin as his golden eyes swept over her, flashing with concern. She got a vague sense of perfect cheekbones and a strong jaw, then her own gaze settled on the guy’s absolutely criminal mouth. Holy Mother of—
“You’re all right?” Somehow, that mouth was moving now, spouting fluent if heavily accented English, and Em had to force herself to stop looking at the guy’s lips and actually process his words.
“What? Ah. Yes, sorry.” She shook her head, waving her arm to encompass him, the beach, the passing gulls—anything that would deflect his attention away from her. “I didn’t mean to get in your way.”
“Footrace. Unscheduled.” He grinned, and her hear
t almost stopped. “You’re going swimming? Be careful of the undertow. It can sneak up on you.”
“Oh.” She glanced out at the water. Undertow? She had read about the currents off Royal Beach in her tourist guidebook, but neither it nor Nicki had mentioned any sort of serious water hazard. Still, the man was looking at her with concern, so she nodded confidently at him. “I’m a strong swimmer. But thank you.”
His expression was skeptical, but he did her the courtesy of not challenging her. At five foot two with a slender frame, Em suspected she didn’t look like a powerful anything, but she knew how to swim, for heaven’s sake. Before Hottie Greek Guy could say anything more, however, a shout sounded from the men up the beach, and he looked toward them, giving her a view of his chiseled profile. Em took the moment to gape, imprinting the image in her memory. Seriously, he could have been Odysseus standing there, his face wind-hardened and sun-baked but as yet unlined except right around his eyes. His jaw tightened as he called something back to his friends, and those gorgeous lips—
Navy Adonis Man turned and clearly saw her staring, and there was no way Em could stop the blush this time. “Be careful,” he said again, and he bowed—actually bowed to her!—before turning to lope off.
Polite, protective, AND sexy as hell. Maybe not the best ad for Garronia’s military, but it certainly worked for her.
She continued down to the edge of the water, slipping out of her beach cover-up and folding it neatly on the soft sand past the tide line. Surely no one would think she was littering if she folded her clothing carefully, and she wouldn’t be in the water long. Besides, the cover-up belonged to the hotel, technically. She dropped her glasses—cheap five-dollar tourist models, nothing she couldn’t afford to lose—on the pile as well.
There, it looked very tidy. She’d always been one to cross every t and dot every i, but she’d become even more OCD since she’d returned home to care for her parents, with her mom now prone to drifting away from wherever she was sitting and her dad locked in his own bitter thoughts.
Her parents.
Don’t go there, Em.
Shrugging off the sudden surge of guilt, she stepped resolutely into the water. It was exhilarating, but nowhere near as chilly as she’d feared it would be. She moved deeper until the water lapped at her thighs, bracing for her modest one-piece suit to be covered. That was always the worst. Still, she plunged in as quickly as she could, willing the Aegean Sea to wash away her negative thoughts.
What was the point of taking her first vacation in a year if she just beat herself up during it?
She needed to follow Fran’s advice and relax—really relax—while she had the chance. Her parents were fine, she knew they were fine, and she needed to accept that they would continue to be fine for the next few weeks while she was traveling with her friends.
She would be back before they knew it.
And then she’d…carry on. Send her reply to Northwestern one way or the other and make her decision work.
Somehow.
Ignoring the deep pang in her chest, Em resolutely turned her face toward the far wide sea, letting her mind drift into daydream, the only solace she really had anymore, what with the interminable hours of caring for her parents, working with the doctors and counselors and insurance experts, even praying in the small hours of the morning when her parents finally slept and she allowed herself the grief that surged up to overwhelm her.
In many ways, her father should already have been far along the road to recovery from the accident. But it was as if he couldn’t take a step forward without looking back, while her mother could barely take any steps at all, her brilliant, beautiful brain still so damaged and frail.
When they were awake, it was all Em could do to distract them both.
But when they were asleep, she could escape too—if only for a little while. Escape into the ridiculous, over-the-top daydreams that had so colored her childhood as she’d listened to her mother read from her classroom literature; drift into the wild, brilliantly colored fantasies that had been her lone companions for hour upon hour of her own studies, her chin bent, her arms raised, her eyes on the sheets before her, but her mind off and racing through an entirely different landscape with a music all its own.
And now she was inside one of those miracle landscapes as she slipped deeper into the water and let the soft waves lift her up, her arms reaching out as she gloried in the beautiful sea. She wasn’t a landlocked princess anymore, but a royal mermaid, given legs to enjoy the world as a human girl. Today, Em instantly decided, today her daydream would be that she was swimming out to meet her former merman lover, and their reunion would be more powerful than anyone would have ever imagined.
She struck out across the waters, glorying in the feel of it sluicing over her back. The current did feel a little strange to her, odd pressures cutting across her body as well as head-on, but she had so much energy pent up inside her that she relished the opportunity to work a little harder than she expected.
Enjoy this, she ordered herself, as her heart began to surge harder and her muscles stretched. She more than most knew that the music would always come to an end before she was ready. The better she took advantage of these glorious strains of happiness, the better she would be able to savor them when the harsh dissonance of reality came crashing back down on top of her.
“Kristos!” The voice was laughing, and Kristos Andris, crown prince of Garronia, turned back quickly, his gaze leaving the flashing red suit of the woman now too far out in the water for his liking. “What, you think that you can ignore your friends for the first pretty American of the day? The beaches here will be crawling with them in a few hours.”
“You are questioning my authority?” Kristos pushed out his chest. “How dare you challenge the heart of our beloved country!” Without warning, he launched himself at Dimitri Korba, not surprised the man was prepared for the sudden attack. The two of them crashed to the sand and were up again just that quickly, circling each other, ready to fight.
Kristos lived for these brief and no-holds-barred clashes between them, the same way he lived for the rough work and brutal training of the Garronia National Security Force, the most delicate way the Council of Ministers could come up with to describe the country’s fiercely dedicated military unit, so it didn’t unnerve their neighboring countries with words like “army.” Kingdom or not, however, Garronia was more than an enchanted nation-state at the edge of nowhere. Its soldiers were strong; its defenses were sound. It had sent its highly trained forces all over the world to support its allies, and it had withstood both military takeover and political merger attempts for generations. It would hold for a little while longer.
He didn’t have to lose everything quite yet.
As he was about to lunge forward, though, Dimitri stood taller. Their other team members, who’d been surrounding the fighting circle in a loose, heckling group, swiveled as one to see what he was staring at, then they stood straighter too. Kristos didn’t need to turn to see who it was, but he did anyway, quickly wiping his face with his tank top before squinting to take in the new contingent of men that approached in both a rolling ATV and on foot.
The few tourists who were out at this hour didn’t seem to notice that the second most important man in the kingdom was in their midst, flanked on either side by men in military uniform, their sleek guns holstered but at the ready. The defenses of Garronia might be solid, but they were also almost invisible to both visitors and nationals alike most of the time. It was how the country had managed to make tourism its number one national product, enjoyed by travelers from all over the world.
Council Minister Cyril Gerou was clearly not looking for photo ops today, unfortunately. “Prince Kristos,” he launched in without fanfare. “You were due at the palace an hour ago.”
“We’re working out a new training regimen.”
“A task that will now fall ably to your second in command as you take on your family duties. Finally.” Cyril’s to
ne was sharp, far sharper than Kristos had ever heard it.
His heart sank. So this was it, after all. He’d been granted a year, they had told him. One fucking year, then he’d be called up for official royal duty. They’d been counting down the final days even as he’d been racking his brain for any assignment that would take him to the air, the ocean, the mountains—to anywhere but here in the seat of the kingdom. But every attempt he’d made to escape the Crown’s reach had been pointless, and secretly he’d known there was really no escape.
Had a full year already passed?
As it always did, a rush of anger and misplaced outrage shot through him as he thought about his brother Ari, and the wreckage of the plane that had never been confirmed as his, not completely or definitively enough for Kristos.
Still, he was alone in holding out hope, it seemed. The royal family had a missing prince, and they had a partially-recovered plane. There was no way anyone could have survived that crash, and the entire country had gone into mourning when the news had been made official. The glorious crown prince of Garronia, the darling of the international glitterati, had been pronounced dead at twenty-nine years old.
It was beyond a tragedy, for many reasons. Not the least of which was that it meant the younger son, Kristos, must take up his glorified duties as the new crown prince.
Which made him want to hurl.
Now he looked at the long-suffering Cyril, mentor to the princes of Garronia and a chief advisor in his own right to the Crown. Cyril stared back at him, equally resolute. Kristos could have told him not to worry. He wasn’t going to argue the point in front of his men. Least of all Dimitri, who had been one of Ari’s closest friends until that fateful day a year ago, when Dimitri had been assigned elsewhere and Ari had left to pilot his aircraft on his own, tinkering with some new gadget or another that apparently had been too much for the small plane.
Prince Ari died by his own hand, some would say, if they actually knew the truth.
Which, of course, they didn’t. The political machine of the royal family of Garronia would never allow anything to besmirch the name it had so carefully cultivated over the long centuries of its existence. Garronia had survived the Mongols, as his grandfather liked to say. It would survive this.
Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1 Page 1