by Cheryl Holt
“Yes, and I am her friend. May I inquire as to why you are here?”
“No, you may not,” Romilard curtly retorted. He spoke to Kat. “I bring tidings from the King.”
“How nice.” She kept her smile firmly in place.
“He begs your pardon for the past misunderstanding.”
“I’m delighted to hear it.”
“And he requests you read this letter and respond at once. I am to convey your answer to Parthenia with all due speed.”
He opened a pouch and pulled out an envelope. It was an official correspondence, the edges rimmed with gold, the King’s seal in the center. Romilard handed it to her with a great flourish.
Kat glared at all of them, then flicked at the seal and perused the missive. The words Kristof had penned were so outrageous that she nearly laughed aloud. Yet every move she made would be reported back to him.
“What is it?” Valois asked. “What does he say?”
“It is a proposal of marriage,” Kat told him.
“From whom, to whom?”
“It appears His Majesty, Kristof, wishes to marry me.”
Valois tried to tamp down his shock, but couldn’t quite manage it. “He has proposed?”
“Yes.”
“My, my,” Valois mused, “that’s interesting.”
“Very interesting,” she agreed. She looked at Romilard. “I’ll need some time to draft my reply.”
“There is no need for a reply,” Romilard said. “We are here to escort you and your siblings to Parthenia for the royal wedding.”
“Are you? That’s very kind.”
She stealthily reached over and squeezed Valois’s fingers so hard she was surprised he didn’t cringe. He was very shrewd and instantly recognized she was silently screaming for help.
“Your escort will be acceptable to all parties,” he blithely said. “Now then, if you’ll excuse me, I have guests. Captain, you may stop by tomorrow at three, and we will discuss the Princess’s departure.”
Romilard blinked, then shook his head. “My orders are to leave at dawn with the Princess and her siblings. The King is most eager.”
Valois snorted with derision. “It will take the Princess at least two weeks to prepare for such a lengthy journey.”
“But…these are my orders, Monsieur, and I cannot disobey. We go at dawn.”
“No, you don’t.” Valois was very regal, very grand, his centuries of aristocratic blood clearly evident. “The Princess will write a letter to the King to explain the delay. I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow afternoon.”
“It cannot be as you have said, Monsieur,” Romilard complained.
“The matter is out of your hands,” Valois countered.
He went to the door and yanked it open, indicating the appointment was over. There was a brief standoff where Kat was afraid that they would grab her and drag her out, but just as Valois had centuries of aristocratic blood in his veins, Romilard had had centuries of learning deference.
He clicked his heels and motioned to his men. They bowed and sidled out, not showing their backs to Kat, so apparently Romilard hadn’t been lying. She was really and truly a princess again.
Valois’s butler arrived and hustled them to an exit where they wouldn’t be observed by anyone. Once the sound of their boots had faded, Valois proceeded to his sideboard, poured two glasses of brandy, and brought them over.
As he gave one to Kat, he said, “Pardon my rough language, Your Grace, but what the hell is going on?”
“I have no idea.”
“What would you predict is happening?”
“For some reason, Kristof suddenly needs me as his wife.”
“I’m trying to imagine a scenario where that would arise, but I can’t devise any. Perhaps his crown is not resting easily on his fat head, and the citizenry is clamoring for your brother’s reinstatement.”
She scoffed. “I doubt it very much. We were forced to accept Kristof’s rule. We couldn’t muster a single supporter to our cause.”
“No offense, Your Grace, but your people were idiots to pick Kristof over you and your brother.”
Kat had always thought so. “Have you heard any news from Parthenia?”
“No. Have you?”
“None, although before I left Cedric’s camp, I received a very brusque letter from Kristof commanding me home.”
“Your siblings too?”
“Yes.”
“So first you were commanded, and now you are cajoled.” Valois smiled a sly smile. “He must want you back very badly.”
“But…why?”
Valois shrugged. “With Kristof, who can guess?”
“The man is deranged.”
Valois sipped his drink. “Will you marry him?”
“No. After what he did to my brother and how he insulted my parents, I never would. Not in a thousand years.”
“You’ll be ruining any chance for your brother to sit on the throne.”
“There is no benefit to my delivering Nicholas to him. Kristof would never step down or put him in the line of succession.”
“It might be best to take him home though. His subjects might eventually demand he be crowned.”
“Yes, but then I’d have to be Kristof’s bride while I waited for this miracle to occur. I’d rather slit my wrists.”
He chuckled. “I understand.”
She staggered to a chair and plopped down. For a long while, she stared at the floor. Ultimately she peered up at Valois. “Am I being selfish to refuse Kristof? Am I throwing away my brother’s future? Maybe I should go. Is that what you would advise?”
“I can’t give you an opinion.”
“Why not?”
“It is a political matter that is beyond my purview. And whatever you choose, it’s probably the wrong option. You must either return to Parthenia and wed an oaf you despise or wander the courts of Europe with your deposed brother. As I said, there are no good options.”
“Your reply does not make me feel any better.” She rubbed her temples where a fierce headache was suddenly forming. “I’m so confused.”
“Shall I call you Princess? Or should I still call you Miss Webster?”
“Let’s stick with Miss Webster for the moment.”
“Well, Miss Webster, Captain Romilard seemed determined to abscond with you, so I believe I can counsel you on this one topic. If you don’t journey to Parthenia with him as he’s requested, he won’t cease pestering you.”
“No, I don’t suppose he will.”
“We’re in agreement on that point anyway. So…if you don’t wish to accompany him, you’ll have to hide from him and steal away again, and it’s clear your last furtive flight wasn’t so furtive after all.”
“I see that now.”
“I can stall him and keep him thinking you need a fortnight to prepare. When the deadline arrives, we can claim you’re still not ready. But he won’t let you delay forever.”
“Perhaps I should depart Cairo while he’s cooling his heels.”
“Perhaps you should.” Valois grinned a conspiratorial grin. “I know two gentlemen who are leaving Egypt very soon. They would be excellent bodyguards to escort you safely to England.”
“Are you saying I should settle there?”
“I’m saying nothing of the sort. I’m simply saying there are two gentlemen headed in that direction.”
* * * *
Bryce was in his bedchamber. It was very late, and the house had finally quieted. Valois had hosted a large supper party, but Bryce had skipped it. The excuse for his absence was that he’d been running errands to arrange his trip.
In reality, he wouldn’t sit across the table from Katarina Webster and moon over her like a smitten boy. It was his specific intent to never see or speak with her ever again.
Evidently he’d had his heart broken, and he didn’t like the feeling.
She was a mystery woman, full of secrets. She had dangerous brigands following her, a family that
was fighting, and she was obscenely rich, but he’d never cared much for rich people. They were callous and clueless and never appreciated all that they had.
There were many reasons for him not to have fallen for her, but he had and he wouldn’t try to figure it out. It had happened. Cupid’s arrow had struck without warning, and the only route forward was to slink out of Cairo before he made an even bigger fool of himself.
He had his traveling trunk open, and he was tossing clothes into it. He didn’t have much to put in. When he’d first trekked to Egypt, he’d been equipped for a protracted expedition, but after their disaster on the rapids, most of his belongings had been lost. The items he possessed now had been accumulated since then, and it was barely enough to bother with a trunk. He ought to find a portmanteau and use that.
He was in a temper and restless as a caged bear. After having quit his job as Kat’s bodyguard, he was anxious to leave immediately.
He and Chase had spent the day inquiring about the journey home. In the morning, they would retrieve their wages, then sail to Alexandria where it would be easier to book passage to London. They’d already hired the boat that would take them up the river.
At this sad juncture, he wasn’t concerned over how he got to England. He just wanted to go.
In the outer parlor, someone entered his suite. He sighed, hoping it wasn’t Chase. With Bryce’s low disposition, he wasn’t in any mood to deal with his friend.
But as he listened to footsteps crossing the tiled floor, he realized it was a female, and he scowled, not eager for it to be a servant. He wasn’t the type to tumble the hired help, and he was too grouchy to abide an awkward scene.
“Bryce?”
He whipped around, stunned to see Kat. To his consternation, she’d dressed for bed. Her hair was down and brushed out, the lengthy locks curling to her bottom. She was attired in a negligee and robe, both garments sewn from an intriguing material that shimmered when she moved.
He glanced down and noted that her toenails were painted red. Had she painted them just for him? Was she trying to entice him? To goad him? Into what conduct? Why would she?
He pointed at her, his irate finger quaking with wrath. “Turn around and get your ass out of here, Miss Webster.”
“Don’t be angry with me.”
“I’d have to care about you to be angry. Go away.”
“I have to talk to you.”
“Go away!”
“Please?”
Her green eyes were poignant and beseeching, and he couldn’t stand to gaze into them. He spun away and pitched a shirt into his trunk.
“We’ve said everything that ever needs to be discussed.”
She stated the obvious. “You’re packing.”
“Yes, I am.”
“When are you leaving?”
“If I thought it was any of your business, I’d tell you.”
“Will it be tomorrow?”
“Miss Webster! Your presence is extremely disconcerting, and I don’t wish to be further upset by you.”
He whipped around again, ready to scold, ready to bark and bite, but she’d sneaked over when he wasn’t paying attention, so she was right beside him.
“My answer is yes,” she said.
“To what question?”
“You asked me to marry you, and I refused. I’ve changed my mind. I want to be your bride. I accept.”
“You’re laboring under the mistaken impression that there is still a proposal on the table. There isn’t.”
“You can’t propose one day, then renege the next.”
“I can and I have.”
“No. You took me by surprise, and I gave you the wrong answer. I’m giving you the correct one now.”
“And the correct answer is what, that you’ll lower yourself to have me?”
She clutched his shirt and shook him. “Will you stop claiming I feel I’m too far above you?”
“I’ll stop claiming it when you stop acting as if you are.”
He flicked her hands away, not able to bear being touched by her. It was torture to have her so near, barely dressed, and supplying the response he’d been desperate to receive.
“What happened between yesterday and today?” he asked. “Yesterday, you were adamantly opposed. Yet today, you’re eager as pie. Pardon me if I seem a tad skeptical.”
“I’m all alone in the world, Bryce.”
“So am I, but then I’ve always been alone. My parents passed away when I was five, so I’ve lived this way for decades. How about you? You’ve had a bad couple of months. Boo-hoo,” he hissed like a child. “I’m having difficulty mustering any sympathy.”
“I only mention it to explain my behavior. I was confused and couldn’t decide what was best. It’s since become obvious that I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“Don’t flatter or sweet-talk me. It won’t change my opinion.”
“I love you,” she blurted out.
He banged a palm on his ear as if it was plugged. “My hearing must be affected. I could have sworn you just announced that you love me.”
“Yes, I said it, and I say it again. I love you.”
“You don’t mean that,” he scoffed. “You can’t mean it.”
“I do. It occurred to me in the wee hours when it was dark and quiet, and I couldn’t figure out why I was so miserably glum. What will you do about it? I’m brave enough to declare my feelings. Will you pout and mope and depart Cairo without me?”
She’d thoroughly perplexed him. He was very proud and had an enormous ego. He’d never previously proposed to a woman, and when she’d rebuffed him, he’d been devastated. Yet now…she was singing a totally different tune.
His head was spinning. What was true? What was false? Why would she abruptly be excited to proceed? It made no sense.
“You seriously expect me to believe you’re anxious to be my bride.”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe you’re delighted to wed an actor, to be a humble actor’s wife.”
“Yes, and there’s nothing humble about you, Bryce Blair. Don’t you dare denigrate yourself to me. I don’t know who your father was, but blood will tell. It’s clear your veins pulse with the blood of a king and the heart of a lion.”
It was the perfect moment to admit his failed ancestry, but he couldn’t bring himself to enlighten her. He wouldn’t raise himself up in her esteem. She insisted she wanted him—even though he was simply an actor. He wouldn’t provide her with a reason to suppose he might be more than an actor.
To hell with her and her conceited views!
“I had some news from home,” she told him.
“What was it?”
“My relatives are ordering me to return.”
“As you’ve kept your past a complete secret, I have no idea whether to congratulate you or commiserate.”
“If I take Nicholas back, they’ll get their greedy hands on his fortune.”
“That’s too bad.” He liked Nicholas very much and wouldn’t pretend he didn’t.
“And…they’ll make me marry a man I hate, the man who destroyed my family.”
Bryce frowned. The revelation was terribly distressing. His Katarina wed to another? His Kat, shackled to a fiend she loathed?
All his anger and upset flew out the window. Could he stand idly by and lose her? Could he allow her despicable kin to hurt her brother? Hurt her?
They’d already sent her reeling to the desert in search of her uncle, and if Cedric Webster was any indication of the type of swine who were commanding her now, she was in extreme danger. He would never deliver her to their custody and control.
“Will you go as they’ve decreed?” he inquired.
“No, and when I realized I could say no to them, it dawned on me that I can say yes to you. I need no one’s advice or permission. So ask me again, Bryce. Ask me to marry you.”
“This seems so bizarre, Kat. I’m no longer convinced we should proceed.”
Suddenly she shucked off her robe so she was attired in just her negligee. It hugged every curvaceous inch of her body, and his cock sprang to attention.
“Tell me you don’t love me,” she said.
“I don’t think I do,” he stubbornly replied.
“Tell me you won’t have me.”
“Kat! Stop it.”
“Let’s find out what you really want and what you don’t, shall we?”
She grabbed the straps of her negligee, tugged them off her shoulders, and the slippery garment slid down to pool at her feet. In an instant, she was naked.
“Your move, Mr. Blair, and this might be checkmate.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kat stood before Bryce, naked as the day she’d been born. Her pulse was racing, but she kept her head high and summoned all her royal training not to display a single hint of nerves.
She’d stripped off her clothes as a dare, as a challenge, but from how he was glaring at her, she wasn’t sure it was the right move.
He looked angry and disgusted, as if she’d proved herself a whore—or worse. Was there something worse than a whore? She was so naïve in the ways of the world that she had no idea.
If she’d been more experienced at amour, she’d have known how to flirt and cajole, but she didn’t know how, and she didn’t have time to waste figuring them out.
He was a lusty man who reveled in carnal behavior, and she’d been positive, if she could coax him into a physical encounter, all would be forgiven. But what if she was wrong?
If so, she’d made the biggest blunder ever, but just as she was about to admit defeat, he grabbed her and tossed her onto his bed. He fell on her as if he was possessed, like a wild beast stalking its prey.
“Be careful what you wish for, Katarina.”
“Why?”
“Because you might get it.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. Why do you suppose I took off my negligee?”
“I can’t guess why, but it was likely a moment of temporary insanity. What precisely are you expecting to accomplish?”
“I’m expecting you to put your proposal back on the table.”
“You think a bit of nudity will bring you what you desire?”