by Cheryl Holt
“Yes, isn’t it strange? It’s almost as if it was meant to be.” Michael gestured to his twin. “This is Matthew. His surname was Harlow when he was growing up, but the past few months we’ve both become Blairs again.”
“Matthew, hello.” Bryce hugged him, then he asked them, “Do you recollect that morning at the docks when they took Mother away?”
“Not the actual event,” Matthew replied, “but we have nightmares about it.”
“Mother told me to watch over you, but I couldn’t. Mr. Etherton sent me away, and I never saw you again. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right,” they said.
“I’ve been sorry ever since.”
“We thrived though,” Michael pointed out. “We made it. It’s over, and we can be a family now.”
“But…what are you doing here? How did you find me?”
Matthew answered the question. “You mailed your itinerary to Evangeline, and we came to meet you. Parthenia was our last stop though. If we hadn’t stumbled on you here, we were going to figure we’d missed you and turn around.”
Michael added, “As to what we’re doing, we couldn’t wait to tell you the news.”
“What news?”
“We’ve retrieved the estate and the title. We’ve retrieved what was stolen from us, and we happily give it all to you.”
Initially he was confused over what they were claiming, then he gasped with astonishment. “Radcliffe is ours?”
“Yes,” Michael said, and in unison they declared, “and Father is avenged.”
Matthew said, “I hope his ghost is resting easier. It seems to be.”
“So…Lord Radcliffe”—Michael had a definite teasing glint in his eye—“we are escorting you to your castle where you belong.”
“Am I dreaming?” Bryce asked.
“No,” Michael responded, “it’s all very, very true, and we wanted you to be apprised immediately. It’s why we decided to fetch you.”
“We’ll have to talk all night,” Bryce said.
“I imagine it will take the remainder of our lives to straighten it out, but first we have to get you home. Evangeline is planning for all of us to spend Christmas at Radcliffe, so we can’t dally in Europe. We have to get riding.”
Bryce felt a tug on his coat, and he glanced down to see Nicholas, his gaze curious and intense. Bryce had been so overwhelmed that he’d completely forgotten Nicholas was there, and he’d been too polite to interrupt.
“Nicholas,” he said, “this will sound very peculiar, but these men are my brothers. I didn’t know them, and we’ve only just met.”
“That is an extremely odd statement,” Nicholas said, “and I’m eager to hear the tale behind it.”
“Who is this?” Michael asked.
“This is Nicholas Morovsky.” Bryce leaned nearer and quietly murmured, “He is the Crown Prince of Parthenia, and someday he will be His Majesty the King.”
Michael and Matthew exchanged a shocked look, and Michael said, “You have some interesting friends.”
“Yes, I do,” Bryce agreed, “and at the moment, he’s in trouble and in danger, so he’s simply Nicholas, a shop boy and vendor’s son.”
Nicholas peered up at Bryce. “Might they help us to rescue Katarina and Isabelle? Can they fight?”
Matthew scoffed. “Can we fight? We invented fighting. Who is it who needs rescuing?”
“My sisters,” Nicholas replied. “They’re trapped in the palace and we have to get them out. Then we’re going to England too.”
“It appears we’ll have quite a caravan,” Michael said.
Bryce chuckled. “It’s a long story.”
“It certainly must be.”
“I have a room at an inn in the town,” Bryce said. “We can return there, and I’ll explain what’s happening.”
They started down the street, Nicholas leading the way, the three Blair brothers walking shoulder to shoulder. Bryce was blond-haired as his mother had been, and the twins were dark-haired like their father. But it was their blue, blue eyes that set them apart, that marked them as siblings.
Bryce had lost them that morning at the docks. It had been the worst day of his life. Worse than the day they’d learned his father had been killed. Worse than the day their mother had been arrested. Worse than the day their home was forfeit and debt collectors had swooped in like vultures and seized all their possessions.
He’d sworn to his mother that he’d protect the twins, but he’d only been five. In his mind, he’d understood that it had been an impossible quest. Yet in his heart, he’d always felt he’d failed both his mother and his brothers. Servants had carted them away, had tossed them in a coach and left with them.
For a bit of time, he’d remembered them clearly, and with a little boy’s determination, he’d thought he could somehow carry out his promise to his mother.
But years had passed, and memories had faded. Once he’d grown older and might have hunted for them, details had been so hazy that he’d had no idea where to begin. So he hadn’t looked, hadn’t searched. It was just one of the guilt-laden recollections that had plagued him.
But now…but now…
They were together, and no matter what else transpired in the future, he would never let them go again.
Nicholas glanced back at Bryce. “Are you really a lord?”
“Yes.”
“What is your rank?”
“I’m an earl. I’m Earl of Radcliffe—as our father should have been before me.”
“Hmm…” Nicholas mused. “You’re not as high as I’d like, but when we’re finished here in Parthenia, I might agree to your marrying Katarina. If she’ll have you.”
“It’s always been the plan, Nicholas. Let’s see if we can make it happen.”
* * * *
Katarina sat on the dais in the main hall with Kristof.
Supper had ended and dancing was about to start. Normally Kat would have loved to dance the night away, but Kristof was awful at it so he never participated. As the dishes were being removed, he’d ordered her not to embarrass him by joining in, so she probably wouldn’t—although for once she was considering it.
In the months she’d been home, he’d relayed similar warnings, and she’d politely heeded them. Yet if she publically disobeyed him, what could he do?
Well, he couldn’t do anything then and there, but there was likely plenty he could do later. Should she risk it?
She studied the crowd, trying to find a friendly face. It was an engagement party of sorts so people were pretending to be merry, but the gathering wasn’t very cheerful. Various courtiers were delivering wedding gifts, offering felicitations, but Kristof was in a foul mood.
Dmitri had pushed him into matrimony much earlier than he’d intended so the gifts were paltry, the remarks insincere. There were no nobles from foreign lands, no dukes or princes to congratulate him.
Parthenia had an aristocratic class, but few of them had ridden in from their rural estates for the wedding. Since Parthenia was a small country and the weather continued to be mild, it was a horrid snub, and Kristof knew it. As each gift was tendered, he was muttering about the cheap workmanship or the low position of the person who had provided it.
She stared blandly, but in reality she was watching for Nicholas. Isabelle was in her room, under guard and unharmed, but Nicholas was missing. Kristof’s minions had turned the palace upside down hunting for him, but they hadn’t found him, and she was growing alarmed.
Had he run off? Was he hiding in a safe place?
She was anxious to sneak away, to grab her siblings and go, but she’d delayed too long, had ruined any chance to flee. For how smart she was, and how stupid Kristof was, he’d bested her constantly. It was humiliating.
There was a ruckus at the rear of the hall with people whispering and pointing as three men entered. From their traveling clothes and demeanor, it was obvious they were foreigners. Kat assessed them, being a tad dazzled by how tall they were, how
handsome, broad-shouldered, and fit. They put the local men to shame.
They marched down the center aisle, and though there had been a line of supplicants waiting to speak to Kristof, they scooted out of the way as the foreigners approached. They exuded that type of power and charisma.
The Sergeant at Arms stopped them and asked their names, then he announced, “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, may I present the Earl of Radcliffe, newly arrived from London, England. He is accompanied by his brothers.”
At hearing Radcliffe, Kat’s gaze whipped to the man in the front. His hair was darker and he’d grown a bit of a beard, so he looked very different from the blond, clean-shaven fellow she’d known in Egypt. There was a nasty scar on his cheek that hadn’t been there previously, as if he’d been injured since she’d last seen him, but those blue eyes didn’t lie.
She swallowed down a squeal of astonishment, gripping her chair as tightly as she could so she didn’t leap up and shriek with joy.
Kristof mumbled, “It’s about time some dignitaries paid their respects.”
“Yes,” she calmly replied, though her pulse was pounding in her ears, “isn’t it marvelous that he’s visited?”
“Your Majesty.” Bryce bowed to Kristof, then shifted his attention to Kat. “Princess Morovsky. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”
Kristof tried to appear officious and kingly. “Radcliffe, you say?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. My family seat is located in the north, on the Scottish border. It’s quite a grand residence. Not as grand as your palace, but very fine all the same.”
Kristof nodded his pleasure, thrilled to have a British lord admitting that Parthenia was superior.
Kat was struggling not to gape, not to let any of her excitement show. He had to have come for her, hadn’t he? He had to have come to save her?
A more terrifying notion occurred. What if he was toying with her? What if he had no intention of assisting her? What if he simply wanted her to see that he’d been passing through and didn’t care? Could Fate be that cruel?
“What brings you to our little corner of the world?” Kristof asked.
“My brothers and I have been on business in Rome. We are on our way to England, and we decided to stop in your beautiful country.”
“Yes, it is very beautiful,” Kristof agreed.
“We hear congratulations are in order,” Bryce said.
“Yes, the Princess and I are marrying in three days. I hope you’ll stay and grace us with your presence during the festivities.”
“You’re most kind,” Bryce gallantly stated. “We are gratified by your invitation, and we will do our best to make your nuptials a celebration worth remembering.”
Bryce bowed, his brothers bowed too, and as they backed away, Kat called, “Lord Radcliffe?”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“The dancing is about to begin. Will you honor the court by leading me in the first set?”
Kristof bristled, but he couldn’t refuse to let her proceed or he’d seem petty and jealous. And he’d want Kat to impress a foreign lord. He’d preen about it for weeks.
As to Kat, she couldn’t guess how long or how ably she could maintain the ruse that she didn’t know Bryce, that she didn’t love Bryce, but she had to risk it. She had to get close enough to ask if he was there to help her. If he said he wasn’t, she’d just die.
“I would be most pleased to lead off the dancing.” Bryce grinned at Kristof. “With His Majesty’s permission of course.”
“Oh, of course,” Kristof arrogantly huffed. “Be my guest.”
“I will,” Bryce said.
He and his brothers walked away, and the final courtiers left their gifts. Then the musicians struck up the introductory chords, summoning couples onto the floor. A servant held her chair and another escorted her down to Bryce. They stood at the head of the line.
The music started, and it was a popular country dance. She had no idea if he’d learned the patterns, but he joined in without missing a step. They promenaded down the center, the other couples prancing behind. The men and women separated, circled each other, moved back. She only had a few chances to twirl with him, then the partners would switch.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered as he made the initial turn, but that was all she had time to say.
“Nicholas is with me. He’s safe,” Bryce told her on the next pass.
“Thank goodness.”
Their conversation continued like that, quick snippets as they locked hands and spun around.
“My brothers will protect him with their lives.”
“I’m so relieved.”
“I’m coming for you and Isabelle. Give me a day or two to figure out how.”
“All right.”
“You can’t marry him.”
“I won’t. I can’t.”
“Nicholas has drawn me a map of the palace. Sleep alone tonight.”
“I will.”
“Don’t let any of your women stay in your room.”
“I won’t.”
“Be ready to travel fast. No bags. No nothing.”
“I understand.”
“We will likely leave on the spur of the moment.”
“Fine.”
“Make sure Isabelle knows.”
Then it was over. They separated, and she partnered with the rest of the men down the line until the musicians sounded the last chord, and everyone was breathless and laughing. He bowed to her, and she curtsied, barely glancing at him, pretending they were strangers.
Bryce spoke to Kristof. “Your Majesty, this was a great honor. Your fiancée is beautiful and graceful.”
“Yes, she is. You dance well for an Englishman.”
“When I was a boy, my dancing masters always insisted I should learn—in case I was ever required to dance with a princess. They didn’t want me to embarrass myself.”
The crowd chuckled, and Kristof said, “It’s lucky you minded your masters then.”
“Yes. I’m nothing if not obedient.”
He delivered Kat to a servant, and she was whisked up onto the dais. She sat, and when she dared to gaze out over the hall, he’d faded into the gathered horde, and she couldn’t see him anywhere.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bryce stepped out of a dark stairwell and slipped into a dressing room. He tiptoed over to a door and peeked into a bedchamber.
From the map Nicholas had drawn, he was supposed to be in Kat’s suite, but the interior of the castle was a warren of tunnels and dead ends. If he’d taken a wrong turn, if he awakened the wrong woman, it would very likely be the last idiotic move he’d ever make.
In for a penny, in for a pound…
He crept toward the bed as she sat up and whispered, “Bryce?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
She reached out her hand, and he rushed over and clasped hold, climbing onto the mattress and stretching out on top of her.
Then he was kissing her and kissing her as if they’d never quarreled, as if they’d never been parted a single day. He’d never imagined he’d have an opportunity to embrace her ever again. It was like a dream, a slice of Heaven, and he almost pinched himself to ensure it was really occurring.
“Where have you been?” she asked as they caressed and hugged and kissed some more. “I’ve been waiting for hours. I decided you weren’t coming.”
“There are guards everywhere. I was nearly spotted a dozen times.”
“Am I leaving with you? If guards are patrolling, how will we get me out?”
“It won’t be tonight. I’m still planning things.”
She slumped with dismay, her spirits flagging. “I want to go right now.”
“I know you do, but we have to be careful. We’ll only have one chance to escape, and we have to retrieve Isabelle too.”
He started kissing her again, needing to fill himself up with her and being terrified that—should he botch his rescue—he would never be with her like this
in the future.
He touched her everywhere, anxious to imprint her size and shape into his mind so he’d never forget. He reveled in the way she smelled, the way she tasted, in the soft, warm feel of her skin.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For how I treated you that final morning in Cairo.”
“It’s all forgiven, Kat.”
“My companion, Pippa, was spying on me for Kristof, sending him reports.”
“That must be why all those Parthenian fellows were following you.”
“Yes. Kristof insisted we return, but he figured I wouldn’t meekly agree. So Pippa had Nicholas and Isabelle kidnapped in order to force me.”
“My friend, Chase Hubbard, helped her.”
“Was that how it happened?”
“Yes.”
“Last year, after we sneaked away,” she explained, “there were rumors that we’d met with foul play and that Kristof was responsible.”
“I understand why people would think that.”
“He needed us home so he could show everyone we were fine. Pippa claimed if I didn’t comply, he would torture Nicholas and marry Isabelle.”
“Valois told me.” He searched her eyes. “I haven’t seen Miss Clementi anywhere. Have you gotten even with her? I hope you have.”
“I left her on the dock in Alexandria, and we haven’t heard a word about her.”
“Good. Please tell me you’re not feeling guilty or wishing you hadn’t.”
“I haven’t suffered a moment of guilt.”
Bryce grinned. “That’s my girl.”
“I was afraid I’d upset you too much, and you wouldn’t come after me.”
“Not come after you! Are you joking?”
“I watched for you every minute. I constantly studied the road behind us, but when I never saw you back there, I thought I’d wrecked everything and you didn’t care about me anymore.”
“For about one second, I was convinced that was the case. Then I realized you must have been coerced into being so horrid to me.”
“I’m so relieved.”
“I would have arrived immediately, but it took me awhile to leave Cairo. I had a bit of…difficulty.”
She traced the scar on his cheek. “How did you get this?”