by Dana Marton
He worked the ropes at his wrists furiously, no longer caring about the swinging. “My people will not bend mindlessly to your evil rule. I have faith in them.”
“How touching. I’ve never known this emotional side of Your Highness. I must admit you always looked cold and distant at those state dinners. Anyone else you want to voice your royal love for before I leave?”
It seemed foolish, he didn’t even know why he was doing it, but he said, “I love a thief named Lauryn.” He wanted those words said if he was about to die, if this was the end.
“Not that I know who you’re talking about, but I can—” Kormos stopped talking and fell forward, his head knocking against Istvan’s knees. Blood rushed out the back of his head.
Istvan looked up, trying to see who was coming in behind him.
“Take it back,” Lauryn said, tossing the bloody stone in her hand. “Or I’m not saving you.”
“You don’t want me to love you?” He’d never been as happy to see anyone. He felt downright giddy, which didn’t mix well with nausea, but he worked with what he had. “Most women would take that as a compliment. You do know I’m a prince?”
“This is a tight place. With your ego and all, I’m not sure there’ll be enough room for all of us and I need to come farther in. I wasn’t talking about the love part.” Her cheeks turned pink.
His head was spinning. “May I inquire, then, what you want me to take back?”
She moved with some impatience as she cut his ropes. “The thief thing.”
He rubbed his wrists, turned Kormos enough to grab the man’s radio. Then they were heading out through one of the many dark tunnels, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her, turned her to him. “I take it back thoroughly,” he said and kissed her.
And realized in that moment that he did love her with a love that didn’t slowly creep up on him unnoticed and turn a friendship into something more as he’d always assumed would someday happen to him, as he’d hoped would happen with Amalia at some point.
He barely knew Lauryn, he reflected as they began running again, but he felt as if he knew everything important about her. And he knew without a doubt that he couldn’t live the rest of his life without her.
Once they cleared the ruins, they came up to the surface, not far from the Roman villa where he’d been captured. Having major digs side by side wasn’t a rarity on the island due to its rich history. Often one invading nation built on the ruins of another, which made Cyprus a paradise for tourists interested in the past.
The radio came on as they sneaked into the woods.
“Are you ready? Over.”
He looked back over the picturesque view the ruins painted in the moonlight—four hundred years of history.
“I killed the bastard myself. No need for the explosives. Over.”
“It’s all set up,” came the protest. “Over.”
“He’s dead.”
“Are you out and clear? Over.”
“I am.”
The next second, a small charge blew. Not big enough to be noticed with the nearest houses being miles away and people asleep in the middle of the night, but big enough to bring down the already-unsteady structure.
“That was a terrible thing to do.” Lauryn looked as if she might cry, staring wide-eyed at the dust cloud that was rising, aghast at the willful destruction.
He felt equally stricken, hating to see history destroyed, but there was nothing they could do now. “Come on.” He tossed the radio and took her hand. “We’re done here.”
But, of course, they weren’t. Two men rose from the darkness, guards who’d been securing the perimeters.
He was furious enough, after all that had happened, to go after them barehanded. He was fed up, fed up to the limit. He grabbed the rifle of the first and shot the bastard in the head without thinking, and with another well-aimed shot took care of the other even as he heard big trucks coming down the road that led through the woods. He aimed the weapon in that direction.
“Get in cover. And this time, stay there no matter what happens to me,” he ordered Lauryn.
“That might be Miklos,” she said, staring wide-eyed at the destruction he’d wrought.
“How?”
“I called him before I left the crown jewels at the monastery.”
“With your uncle? But I thought—”
She told him what had happened to her uncle then, her eyes filling with tears. She stumbled. He picked her up in his arms.
That was how he met the first truck, with Miklos behind the wheel.
“Need help?”
“I’m good. You’ve got a chopper?” He thought he’d heard the sound of rotors earlier, figured it might have been Bellingham leaving, but they were high enough now on the hill so he could see Bellingham’s bird still on the ground where it had been shot down. He must have called another truck to carry away the treasure.
“Where there are no trees,” Miklos told him. “If you’re already handled this yourself—” he looked behind Istvan “—I’m going to be very disappointed.”
“Cheer up. Bellingham’s and Kormos’s bastards are running all over the countryside. Go to it.”
“Who’s Bellingham? Kormos as in head of industry Kormos?” His brother’s eyebrows went up. “Never mind. You’ll tell me later. No time to waste.” And he directed his truck, filled to the brim with Valtrian Royal Guards, around them to tear down the path. The other vehicles followed.
“I’m sorry about your uncle,” Istvan said when they were alone again.
“You can put me down. I can walk.”
“Mind if I carry you anyway? It brings home the point that you’re here with me and safe.”
She tightened her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his chest. “Whatever he’d done in the past, he was a good man. He was different from my father. He did have a conscience. He tried to atone for the things he did. He helped me so much in the past couple of years. I have nobody left.” Her voice broke.
“You have me.”
“All the way to the chopper?” She went for sarcastic, knowing, as he did, that their time together would soon have to come to an end.
And he knew suddenly that he couldn’t accept that. Couldn’t let that happen.
“All the way to the chopper, then all the way to forever,” he said and kissed her again.
Epilogue
Istvan watched Lauryn as she straightened, covered in mud from head to toe, in workman’s overalls. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
She’d put together the materials for the exhibit for the Getty, but hadn’t gone back. Chancellor Egon was traveling with the Valtrian treasures.
She gave a soft grunt. “It’s the curse of the Kerkay brides.”
“To be loved beyond reason by their husbands?” he inquired.
“To become pregnant the moment they say the words I do.” She set aside the small pick she’d just broken and reached for another tool in her bucket.
“Pregnancy suits you beautifully. You glow.”
“We call that sweat down in the lower classes.” She braced her lower back with her hands, her belly protruding from an otherwise slim frame. “I’m as large as a prehistoric whale.”
“You’re pregnant with twins. They run in my family.” He was exceedingly pleased with himself.
“I don’t know how much longer I can help you.”
He put down his pail and strode over to her. “I’ll set up a golden throne for you in the shade and present you with binoculars encrusted with rubies, then you can watch the dig in comfort.” They were close to finding the treasure of the Brotherhood, had spent part of their honeymoon deciphering the codes cleverly hidden in the decorative patterns of the royal crown.
“At least you know me well enough not to try to talk me into staying home.”
“Soon we’ll be one of those couples who finish each other’s sentences,” he teased her.
“Sickening,” she groused, but her g
rin ran from ear to ear.
“Beyond appalling.” He couldn’t have been happier. He pulled her to him and kissed her gently.
“I still can’t believe they let you marry an alleged thief,” she said on a dreamy sigh when they pulled apart.
“I married a heroine. The woman who saved the coronation jewels.”
Not one item had been lost, which was a miracle. Miklos was still hunting the last of the bad guys on the island, working with the local authorities, to make sure something like this wouldn’t happen again.
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you married me out of gratitude?”
“Having a sense of obligation is a must for a prince.”
She kicked him in the shin.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the field tent he had set up so she could take as much rest as she needed, not that she ever took advantage of it. He laid her down on the bed. “Is it still safe to—”
“The doctor says it is. You do realize you ask me that question every single day? Never mind. Yes, you may exercise your princely rights when we return to the palace.” She acted all put out, but the smile in her eyes betrayed how much fun she was having.
He kissed her again, harder this time, deeper, running his hand down the front of her overalls and undoing the buttons.
“Wait. Here?” She squealed with alarm when she realized that he had no intention of postponing anything until they returned to the palace.
“I’m a born archaeologist. I do my best work in the field.”
He gave her a hopeful smile. She pressed closer. And then he proceeded to make thorough love to his amazing wife, a woman he loved above all others, the woman he would love forever. He told her so, too, just to be clear.
“I love you, too.” She kissed him. “You’re a prince of a man.” She giggled.
She was a different person than when they’d met, loosened up a lot, learned to trust, learned to be part of a large family. Learned that she didn’t have to check behind her every second because he had her back. She was just as self-assured and tough as ever, but now at times she was also completely carefree, starting to believe that what they had together was good, it was real and it was going to last forever.
When all their clothing had been removed he covered her belly with kisses. Then he moved inside her, gently, slowly centimeter by centimeter, reveling in the pleasure on her face, the way her eyes widened when he pushed all the way in.
They moved together in perfect harmony.
“Who knew we’d be so good together?” She sighed as pressure built.
“I did.” He dipped his head to her puckered nipple.
“Liar.”
“Insulting a prince to his face is a serious breach of protocol,” he said, then proceeded to seduce her thoroughly to make sure he prevented further incidents.
Even if she was right. He had fibbed. Never in his life could he fathom that to be truly in love and be married to the right woman could be half this glorious. It seemed insane now that he used to think that being a loner was preferable to all the work it required being a couple.
The pleasure that was building in his body was nothing compared to the joy that filled his heart to the brim.
Afterward, when they lay satiated in each other’s arms, he reached for his field bag and retrieved a long velvet case and gave it to her. “I finally got this today. I was going to hold it until the twins were born, as a gift…” He trailed off. He couldn’t stand the wait. He wanted to shower her with presents. He didn’t agree with her frequent protests that he was hopelessly spoiling her.
“A stainless steel pick?” She’d taken to archaeology like a duck to water.
He chuckled. “Get your mind out of the ditch for a second.”
She opened the case and gasped as she inspected the one-of-a-kind string of large pearls. “How old is this thing?” she asked after a minute.
“About a hundred years, give or take a couple. It was my great-great-great grandmother’s.” He took it from her and fastened it around her neck. The pearls shone between her naked breasts. He felt desire stir again. Bent to kiss her. “We might never leave this tent.”
“Your Highness,” came an urgent call from outside, ruining his hopes.
“Go away.”
“We found a large stone chest.”
He exchanged a glance with Lauryn. They broke records getting dressed. They were back in the ditch within minutes, supervising as the lid was removed from the stone chest with the help of a pulley. Then the way was finally cleared and they could look inside.
Instead of jewels and gold coins, the chest was filled to the brim with brittle book pages, all handwritten.
“What’s this?” Lauryn was pulling on white gloves.
He’d already put his on and was taking one of the better preserved books gently into his hands, opening it to the first page, deciphering the code without trouble. “The real diary of the Brotherhood of the Crown.” He took another book and inspected it. “Along with crucial historical manuscripts that had been thought lost through wars and theft. Looks like at least some of the jewels the Brotherhood had received from their admirers had been used to pay for copying and saving our history. This is—”
“The history of the country,” she said misty-eyed.
“The find of a lifetime.”
“Real treasure.” They smiled in unison.
“We’re going to read and document all of this together. And be very careful to keep the pages out of little hands.” She patted her belly. “You realize this might take a lifetime?”
He pulled her into his arms and thought about spending the rest of his life with her, working side by side, loving her. “I couldn’t think of a life better spent.” He kissed her, his hand caressing her swollen belly where their babies were doing backflips.
“Probably impatient to get out of there and start digging. God help the royal gardens if they take after their daddy.” She was grinning.
“We’ll have to put a full platoon of royal guards into service around them if they take after their mother,” he murmured against her lips.
With many thanks to Allison Lyons
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5675-4
ROYAL CAPTIVE
Copyright © 2010 by Dana Marton
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*Mission: Redemption
*Mission: Redemption
*Mission: Redemption
*Mission: Redemption
†Defending the Crown
†Defending the Crown
†Defending the Crown
†Defending the Crown
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