From Kiss to Queen

by Janet Chapman

  “Shelkova is a country across the Bering Sea from Alaska.”

  Silence again, and then a whispered, “Please tell me you’re drunk.”

  “Sorry,” Jane said on a sigh. “Remember that article in the Pine Lake Weekly Gazette last month about a prince who was in America looking for a bride? Well, the foreign man Silas said I was with is Prince Markov Lakeland of Shelkova . . . Hello? Katy, are you still there?” Jane asked, afraid they’d been cut off when she couldn’t even hear any breathing.

  “So help me God,” Katy said softly, “if you tell me you ran off with some guy claiming to be a prince from a two-bit country that isn’t even on the map yet, I swear I’m getting on the next plane and—”

  “No! That’s not—”

  “AND,” Katy shouted, cutting her off, “I am kicking your stupid ass all the way home. I thought you were dead! A hunter found the burned-out remains of your car in the woods, and Silas said the last time he saw you was when you drove off with some guy to Stonington eleven freaking days ago. I keep calling the game wardens, the sheriff, and the state police. Hell, I even have Robbie and Jack looking for you.”

  Katy had asked her brother to search? Jane knew Robbie used to be in the military, in special ops or something, and she’d always been a little afraid and a lot in awe of the quiet giant. And Jack Stone, Pine Creek’s police chief and some relation to Katy, was legendary for finding people, whether they were lost in the woods or hiding in some city halfway around the world.

  “I’m sorry for scaring you,” Jane cut in when Katy stopped her little tirade to take a deep breath. “Did anyone happen to find a floatplane sitting upside down in a pond two or three miles east of where my car was found?”

  “A plane? No, I haven’t heard anything about anyone finding a plane. So what happened to your car, anyway?”

  “The men in the second plane who shot down the floatplane blew it up.”

  “Huh? Dammit, you are drunk. Just tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

  “I’m on the other side of the world,” Jane snapped. She took a calming breath. “If you will kindly listen without interrupting, I’ll explain everything. And then you can help me figure out how to get home.”

  “Oh, I’ll help you, all right,” Katy said, the growl in her voice making Jane smile. “Even if it means having to kick your dumb ass across an entire continent and freaking ocean. I thought you were dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jane repeated, her smile vanishing when that last part came out in an anguished whisper. “I should have called you five days ago.”

  “Eleven days ago,” Katy said, trying but failing to put the growl back in her voice.

  “I . . . I wasn’t exactly in a position to call you then.” Jane took another deep breath, then began her tale with her minding her own business out partridge hunting one last time before moving—which Katy had been sad about but resigned to—and continued right through to picking up the phone this afternoon. She left nothing out; not the part about her waking up in the woods to find Mark’s hand on her breast, or about having sex with him and foolishly hoping she was pregnant, or stupidly pointing her shotgun at him in front of a ship full of sailors.

  Heck, she even confessed to losing her temper when she’d found out Mark was a prince, and that she’d cussed for real and punched some poor innocent sailor in the belly.

  Katy never interrupted once during the long-winded tale, even though hearing herself relating one outrageous detail after another made Jane realize she did sound drunk. She finally ended by explaining she was healed enough to go home now, only she wasn’t sure how one went about reentering the country without a passport. “And I’d rather not create an international incident by walking into the American embassy—assuming they have one here—and saying Mark kidnapped me.”

  “Then I guess that means you’re gonna have to stay put,” Katy said, not even the hint of a growl in her voice.

  Jane went momentarily silent. “Did you get the part about my being kidnapped? And being dragged from boat to boat against my will? And about getting shot?”

  “I think we both agree your getting shot was your fault,” Katy said dryly. “As for being kidnapped, did you really expect the guy to leave a woman who had just saved his life to the mercy of his assassins?”

  “You’re taking his side?”

  “I’m sorry, have we met? I’m Katherine MacBain, but you can call me Katy. Oh, and all these towering males constantly popping up around me? They’re my overprotective brothers and cousins who are always acting like asses for my own good.” A very unladylike snort came over the line. “Brody’s home on leave, and I kid you not—last week he tossed me over his shoulder right in the middle of Pete’s Bar and Grill when he overheard some idiot ask if I wanted to take a moonlight drive to go look for moose.” And then a sigh. “Your prince may have taken the I’m doing this for your own good thing to the extreme, but . . . I’m sorry, I’m glad he did. Because Silas also told me,” she rushed on when Jane tried to interrupt, “that the day after you left, three guys showed up looking for a tall man who spoke with a Russian accent who might be traveling with a local woman. Si said they also had heavy accents, only different, and that they were hard-looking bastards that he wouldn’t trust any farther than he could spit. So he told them a man and woman had come through the day before and hitched a ride to Milo with some trucker.”

  “Are you serious?” Jane whispered.

  “If they were the men in the plane who shot down Mark and blew up your car,” Katy continued softly, “you truly were in danger. And if he hadn’t forced you to go with him, you could have . . . We might not be having this . . .” A shuddering sigh came over the line. “Damn, Jane, there’s a good chance I might never have seen your beautiful face again.”

  Holy heck, Mark hadn’t been exaggerating. “Even so, I can’t just stay here.”

  “Sure you can. You saved the man’s life, so now let him save yours.”

  “But what if I am pregnant?”

  “All the more reason to stay put—at least until the Lakelands have dealt with their enemies. Why endanger your child when you’re probably in the safest place on the planet right now? And from what you told me, it sounds like your prince has a bad case of the guilts, so why not take advantage of his hospitality?”

  “Maybe because I don’t belong here? I feel like I landed on another planet. The clothes in my closet are made of silk. My food is served on bone china, and I have a private nurse and three maids. And all the sailors kept bowing to me.”

  A heavy groan came over the line. “You belong wherever you are. I don’t care if you’re in a sporting lodge or a city or a freaking palace—you belong. And if you do come home,” Katy continued, the growl in her voice again, “I am personally kicking your ass back to Shelkova.”

  “You’re gonna need a bigger boot,” Jane snapped, unable to believe her friend was taking Mark’s side.

  All that got her was another snort. “I’m pretty sure we established back in third grade, when we decided Jason Biggs needed to stop calling Cindy Pace Creepy Four-eyes, that you fight about as well as you cuss.”

  “I still have the scar from where he bit me,” Jane shot back. “And are you forgetting I gave him a bloody nose?”

  “The tree he ran into gave him that bloody nose when he saw Sister Roberta headed toward us decked out in her full uniform of God.”

  “I had to say two novenas,” Jane reminded her. “One for fighting and one for saying it was my idea to ambush Jason on his way home from school. That’s eighteen days of my life I’ll never get back, and to thank me for not ratting you out you tell me to stay put?”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not playing that guilt card again. We agreed the statute of limitations is once every five years, and this is your second time in six months.”

  “Eighteen days,” Jane said so
ftly, fighting to keep the smile out of her voice. Oh, yeah; they didn’t make friends like Katy MacBain anymore. “On my knees. In a dark, musty chapel.”

  “Then we’re even, because I just spent eleven days thinking you were dead.”

  She might not be able to whoop Katy physically, but Jane won more of their battles of will than she lost. “During the warmest spring in years. I missed the town Easter egg hunt.”

  Silence again, and then what sounded like a sigh of surrender. “I tell you what; give me your phone number and let me talk to Robbie and Jack about what you should do.”

  “Thank you,” Jane whispered, her sigh one of relief.

  “But you need to understand,” Katy quickly added, “that if they decide Mark Lakeland is one of the good guys, there’s a good chance they’re also going to tell you to stay put. Especially if it turns out you are pregnant. Because,” she rushed on over Jane’s gasp, “men don’t like sticking their noses in other men’s business unless they suspect there’s abuse.”

  “You can’t tell them I might be pregnant! They’ll know I had sex. With a virtual stranger, no less. I’ll never be able to show my face in Pine Creek again.”

  “I won’t have to tell them,” Katy said with a chuckle. “They’ll assume if Mark wasn’t . . . oh, let’s go with interested in you that way, then he would have dropped you off at the nearest police station, thanked you for saving his life, and gone on his merry way.”

  “Bound and gagged,” Jane persisted. “Dragged down into a submarine. Shot.”

  “Did he rape you?”

  “No!”

  “Did your poor repressed hormones finally explode and you raped him?”

  “No! It was . . . Neither one of us . . . It just happened!”

  “Then congratulations, Miss Abbot,” Katy drawled. “You may officially call yourself a woman now. Oh, and welcome to the twenty-first century.”

  “So you’re going to church and lighting candles for me to shorten my time in purgatory for having sex with a man I wasn’t married to?”

  “Hell, no. I’m going to buy you a case of condoms. Come on, Jane,” Katy said, lowering her voice to a sultry whisper, “now that you know what you’ve been missing, aren’t you anxious to do it again?”

  Jane toyed with the phone cord. “Not particularly.”

  Silence, and then, “First times for anything are always awkward. I promise the next time will be better.”

  “I doubt it was Mark’s first time. And judging by his reaction, there isn’t going to be a next time—at least not with him. He’s been coming to visit me every day and . . . and he hasn’t even tried to kiss me again. He just sits in a chair beside my bed and tells me stories about how his father met his mother—she died five years ago—and how his grandfather met his grandmother, and how other Lakeland men met their wives. And then he asks about my family.”

  “And what have you told him?” Katy asked softly.

  “What I tell everyone; that I grew up in a big old drafty house with a bunch of sisters.”

  “You do know that little prevarication is going to catch up with you one of these days, don’t you?”

  “But not today. And definitely not with Mark. I need to get out of here, Katy. Now. I wasn’t putting myself down earlier; I truly don’t belong here. And if I can leave while Mark still thinks of me as the angel who saved his life, I will always be somebody special to him. And to his father and brothers. Heck, probably even to the people of Shelkova.”

  “Time isn’t going to change that fact, Jane. Do you really think the guy would care if it was an angel or an orphan who pulled him out of that plane?”

  “I’m pretty sure he’ll care about making a baby with a woman who has no business being the mother of a future king or queen.”

  “Another fact that won’t change,” Katy growled in obvious frustration. “Not if you’re already pregnant.” And then she sighed. “You’re not winning this one, Jane. Because as much as it pains me, I have to side with Robbie and Jack if they feel you’re better off staying put. Give me your number and I’ll call you after I talk to them.”

  “I don’t have a number,” Jane snapped. “I just picked up the phone in my room and dialed. I’ll have to call you.”

  “Okay. But give me a couple of days. And while my guys are checking out your guy,” she added brightly, “I’ll see if I can’t overnight you some condoms. I should be able to send them to Jane Abbot, care of The Palace in Shelkova, don’t you think?”

  “I think you’re insane,” Jane whispered, fighting a smile. Geesh, if she’d called the moment she’d spotted the phone, she could have saved herself five days of wondering how to tell her best friend what really big—and possibly pregnant—trouble she was in.

  Oh yeah; no one could turn a mountain into a molehill like Miss Silver Lining MacBain.

  “And while you’re waiting for them,” Katy persisted, “you get your beautiful angel ass out of that room and scope out the palace—specifically where Prince Charming sleeps. And you sneak into his bed just like he did yours. But not until after the condoms arrive.”

  “Oh, I’ll scope out the palace, all right, looking for a chapel,” Jane drawled back, letting her smile break free. “And then I’m lighting every candle in there to shorten your stay in purgatory. You do know encouraging someone to sin is a sin, don’t you?”

  “We’ll keep each other company,” Katy said with a chuckle, only to go silent. “Be your smart, courageous self, Jane,” she said, suddenly serious. “Keep that temper in check and don’t point any weapons at anyone. And please, for me, could you at least try to enjoy yourself?”

  “I . . . I’ll try.”

  “I love you. And I’m so very glad you’re alive.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Except I love you more,” Jane added loudly, hearing her friend’s snort as she gently set the receiver down on the ornate cradle.

  Jane then walked to the window and stood staring out at the ocean as she tried to decide how she felt about Katy’s revelation that three men had showed up at Twelve Mile Camp the day after they’d left. Okay, then; it would appear Mark really had been saving her life.

  But why make love to her? It’s not like she was some raving beauty who turned men to lustful idiots with just a smile. Well, not sober men, anyway. Really; she didn’t even own lipstick. And she dressed like a guy. She could outshoot and outfish them, too. She couldn’t dance, but she could run a fully loaded canoe down class IV rapids without cracking an egg. She’d never eaten at a restaurant that had more than one fork and knife and spoon at a setting, but she could fry up a mean dish of trout and fiddleheads over an open fire. And last she knew, eau de fish guts wasn’t exactly a come-hither scent, any more than wet wool was.

  Jane leaned her forehead on the window. Geesh, she had to have looked like something the cat dragged home the night Mark had made love to her, considering her nose had been running like a river, she’d been so hot with fever she hadn’t even bothered to sleep in her shirt, and she was pretty sure croaking bullfrogs sounded sexier.

  So why would a prince looking for an American bride crawl into bed with a backcountry nobody? Because really; even orphans knew better than to believe in family legends.

  Chapter Nine

  She was in a palace. She knew that. She’d surmised that fact from what she could see from her bedroom window. Oh, but what a grand place this must have been generations ago; although the furnishings appeared of high quality and everything was spotless, it was obvious the Lakelands hadn’t gone crazy spending their emerging country’s money on frivolous restorations. Heck, just the hallway was a study in architecture, history, and old wealth. The walls were stenciled in slightly faded but still rich colors, lined with paintings and artifacts and . . . and a note, if she wasn’t mistaken—addressed to her!

  Jane walked across the hall and carefully pulled the beige e
nvelope with a green border off the wall. On closer inspection, the border was a small forest of fir and pine trees. On the back was what appeared to be a royal crest, made up of more trees and gold lettering that said Lakeland. She carefully pulled out the card inside.

  If you are well enough to leave the palace grounds, I will consider you well enough to—

  Well, don’t make me have to come after you, angel.

  Love,

  Mark

  Seriously? Jane came within an inch of tearing the thing to shreds, but stopped and pressed the card to her chest instead. As love notes went, it lacked a little something, but it was from Mark to her. And he’d signed it with the one word she’d given up hope of ever seeing addressed to her. Although he’d only used her name on the envelope and not the note itself, Jane decided to keep it. No matter that he hadn’t meant it that way, she would show it to their child someday, if they’d made one.

  Spinning back toward her room to put the note away, Jane got another surprise. On a table beside her door was a small bouquet of flowers and another beige envelope bordered by green trees. Pulling out the card and reading it, Jane smiled, then sighed, then giggled. This note was from Reynard Lakeland, and said these flowers were for a pretty little angel who knew how to breathe life into a man.

  Jane decided Mark’s father could say she was pretty because he’d never seen her, and she was keeping this card as well. Picking up the flowers and giving them an appreciative sniff, she reentered her room and set both notes and the vase on a bureau. And on a whim, she pulled a flower free and tucked it in her hair like Sister Patricia used to do whenever Jane was feeling sad with herself.

  So with a silly smile on her face, she ventured into the big, scary world of Markov Lakeland. Holding her head high, Jane limped down the hall as if she belonged there while silently appreciating the beautiful surroundings. She’d gleaned from the maids and nurse who had paraded through her room, all of them speaking broken but adequate English, that this palace had once been the Lakeland seat of power generations ago. Several tall doors lined the hall, all of them closed to the contents they housed. Jane ignored them all, wanting to get outside to the fresh air and the sea that had been beckoning her for the last five days. But it was a trying task; the rabbit warren of halls was seemingly endless.