Prince of my Panties (Royal Package)

by Lili Valente

  I frown, inching higher in my chair as Jeffrey turns his back on the cottages to gaze out across the pasture and the older homes on the other side. “Delicate operation? That sounds serious. When did business get so intense?”

  “Oh, it’s not,” Zan says in a breezy voice I would buy if I didn’t know her so well. “Just high maintenance. But that doesn’t mean I’m not here for you. Let me send someone, and as soon as you get to Zurich, we’ll grab breakfast and plot a way out of this mess with minimal damage to you, Sabrina, and our family’s reputation.”

  “Are you all right?” I ask, my stomach flipping with an odd mix of disappointment and relief as Jeffrey starts back down the lane toward the café.

  “Are you crazy? I’m not the one who’s committing identity fraud.”

  I sit up straight, moving the curtains and leaning closer to the window to watch Jeffrey go. He’s definitely trouble I don’t need right now, but still…I hate to watch him walk away.

  “Though, he does look awfully good in jeans from the back,” I murmur, appreciating the lovely curve of his bottom, not realizing I’ve spoken aloud until Zan says, “That’s it. Your address. Give it to me. I’m sending a car and driver right now.”

  “No, you’re not. I’m fine. Jeffrey’s leaving and so am I. I’ll be in touch soon. Remember, don’t tell Sabrina anything unless you have to.”

  “I’m not making that promise.”

  “You have to. I’m invoking the Triplet Code.” I fight off another cough as I stand. “If you tell, you’re a traitor.”

  “Not fair, Lizzy.”

  “I’m not here to play fair. I’m here to kick ass and take names,” I say, slinging my purse over my shoulder.

  “Okay, Rambo. I don’t know what you’ve done with my shy, mostly sane sister, but when you see her, let her know I’m worried that’s she’s lost her mind.”

  “Will do,” I promise, my throat tightening as another cough tries to claw its way out of my lungs. “Gotta go. Love you so much, forever and ever.”

  I hang up before Zan can respond, turning off my cell. Then I grab my keys, the handle on my rolling sewing kit, and my duffle bag full of clothes and head for the car. I have no idea where I’m going, but it doesn’t really matter, as long as it’s far away from Islip Downs and beautiful, bad-news Jeffrey Von Bergen.

  I load up and pull out of town, slumped low in the driver’s seat to avoid being seen while I keep a sharp eye out to make sure no one is following. On instinct, I start north toward the more sparsely populated section of the country. If Jeffrey decides to keep looking for me, he’ll likely think I’ve gone east or west, to one of the ski communities sustained by mountain tourism.

  Heading north, I won’t encounter any serious signs of civilization, including a hotel, for at least two hundred kilometers. But that’s all right. I’m not afraid. I may have spent most of my life locked away in a tower, but I know my people. Rindish folk aren’t always forthcoming, but they are unfailingly generous.

  I’ll find a place to stay.

  All I have to do is ask around in the right places.

  About thirty minutes outside of Islip Downs, I pull over in the even smaller village of Frye, which boasts a single petrol station, a market, and a busy pizza parlor. It’s barely five o’clock, but there’s already a line, ten people deep, outside the pizza place. I’m betting the aroma wafting out is wonderful, but I can’t smell a thing as I pass by.

  My nose is a disaster. I need tissues and nasal spray and probably some more serious meds. My bones are beginning to ache and my head to throb, proving that lying about having a cold is the quickest way to end up sick as the proverbial dog.

  Inside the market, I load up on pain pills, cough medicine, lemon, and honey before swinging through the liquor aisle. The store doesn’t sell whiskey, but I find a Gallantian mead that will warm up nicely and circle back to the spice aisle to fetch cloves and cinnamon. I’m not the slightest bit hungry, but I hear Sabrina’s voice in my head, reminding me that a woman cannot survive on art and mead alone, so I add bread, butter, cheese, milk, green apples, and a bag of oatmeal to my cart before heading to the front.

  It’s only when I’m unloading at the counter that I realize I’ve made an error in judgment, shopping as if I expect to have access to an icebox when I have no idea where I’m sleeping or when I’ll get there.

  I’m definitely not thinking straight, and the aching in my head is getting worse with every passing minute.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell the clerk with a sigh. “I should put a few things back. I’ve had to leave my rental cottage suddenly, and I’m not sure where I’m staying tonight.”

  The girl, a redhead so pale her face has a faint bluish tinge at the temples, frowns. “Oh, no! If you need a place, I know someone with a little cabin he rents from time to time.”

  My entire body sags with relief. “Oh, yes, please, that would be so wonderful. Thank you. Bless you and Rindish hospitality.”

  She laughs. “Don’t bless me yet. Let’s see if it’s available first.” She reaches for the phone beneath her register, adding as she dials, “And I’ll warn you, it’s in the middle of nowhere. About a twenty-minute drive up the fire road, past the old schoolhouse. Nice for cross-country skiing in the winter, but nothing up there but sheep and mud this time of year. We had a late thaw this spring.”

  “That sounds perfect.” I force a smile, ignoring the throbbing behind my eyes. “As long as it has electricity, that’s all I need. I mean, running water would also be nice, but not a must.”

  The redhead laughs again. “Oh, it has all that, I’m sure. Richard is—” She breaks off as someone answers on the other end of the line. “Hey there, Richard. It’s Jennifer from the grocery. I’ve got a nice woman here who’s looking for a place to stay.” She’s quiet for a moment, then she covers the receiver with a hand and asks, “How long were you wanting it for?”

  I shrug. “Ideally, a couple of weeks, but if he has other bookings, even just tonight would be fantastic.”

  Jennifer relays the information. Richard says two weeks will be fine and is kind enough to take my credit card information over the phone. He gives me directions for finding the property—and the key hidden in the well pump behind the cottage—and invites me to use any of the pasta, rice, and other staples left in the pantry.

  Within ten minutes, I’m thanking Jennifer profusely and hurrying out to my car with my bag of provisions. I’m exhausted and so progressively foul-feeling I don’t pay much attention to my surroundings as I pull back onto the street. I’m too busy searching for the fire road—finally finding it on my second backtrack through the village—and then mentally adjusting my production schedule in case I’m too sick to sew tomorrow.

  I still have some breathing room. I’d planned to turn my collection in early, proving to Bianca, my supervisor, that my time management skills have improved along with my sewing, but as long as I hit the deadline, everything will be fine.

  “Everything is absolutely going to be fine,” I assure myself in a raspy voice as I park in front of the cute A-frame cabin and stomp around to the back to find the well pump. It’s nearly dark, but there’s enough light to find the key and to see that the view from the back window of the house is going to be stunning in the morning when the sun rises.

  Running into Jeffrey and catching this case of the sniffles are just two little bumps in the road. Tomorrow, I will rest and heal, and by the next day, I’ll be back on track to finishing my masterpiece.

  I nod, proud of my grounded, rational thoughts.

  These are, unfortunately, my last rational thoughts for a very long time.

  5

  Jeffrey

  I don’t know how I know she’s heading north. I just…do.

  Something deep in my gut insists I take a right on the way out of Islip Downs, and I obey it.

  I’m a man of logic, but I trust my intuition. The human body has ways of knowing things that have nothing to do with conscious
thought. Study after scientific study has proven that the sympathetic nervous system recognizes cues from the world around us that slip unnoticed by our reasoning minds.

  Perhaps Lizzy left some subtle clue during our conversation in the café.

  Or perhaps I’m just lucky. Again.

  But mere moments after pulling over for petrol at a tiny village on the road north, I spot Elizabeth walking out of a grocery store.

  I duck behind the pillar by the pump, waiting until she loads her bag into the passenger’s seat and gets into her car before hurrying into mine. Grateful for the tinted windows on the Jaguar, I shift into drive, turning onto the main road behind her as she pulls away from the curb.

  At first, I’m careful to keep my distance, but by the second time she completes a U-turn to head back into town, I’m directly behind her. She isn’t paying any attention to the other drivers on the road. If she were, she would have spotted me when our vehicles passed each other.

  She also would avoid darting in front of a delivery truck with a sudden left, cutting it so close the man is forced to slam on his breaks and still nearly hits her bumper. He rolls down his window with a vigorous pump of his arm and shouts obscenities after her, but she doesn’t seem to notice that, either. She’s too busy weaving back and forth on the narrow road, taking such wide turns that I cringe every time I round a bend behind her, certain I’m going to see her smashed into the front of an oncoming vehicle.

  Luckily for everyone, the road is deserted. Because Lizzy is an abysmal driver.

  Maybe the worst I’ve ever seen, truly a danger to herself and others.

  She finally careens into a parking space in front of a cottage with a wall of glass on the second floor and stumbles around to the back, returning a few minutes later to fetch her bag of groceries. She makes several trips back and forth from the cabin, bringing my car into her line of sight each time she steps off the porch steps, but she doesn’t notice.

  She doesn’t seem to be noticing much. She trips three times over the same rock in the path leading to the cottage, and by her final pass, she’s zigzagging up the steps, stumbling so much that she practically falls through the front door.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was drunk.

  But I suppose I don’t know better.

  Elizabeth could be a person who has no issue with drinking and driving, though it’s hard to imagine the thoughtful girl I knew behaving in such a criminally irresponsible way.

  Jaw clenched and irritation prickling my skin, I tug out my cell to call Andrew with an update on the hunt for his fiancée’s twin only to discover I’m out of service range. That’s not uncommon in the mountains, but the additional irritant ensures my mood is dark as I pull into the parking spot beside Lizzy’s and slam out of the car.

  I don’t make any effort to be quiet. There’s nowhere for her to run, and it’s best if she knows I’m coming. I don’t want to surprise her or frighten her.

  I just want the truth, and I intend to get it.

  Tonight.

  The official royal engagement ceremony is only a few days away. I have to get to the truth before then. Andrew may very well decide he wants to marry Sabrina instead of Elizabeth—if that’s what his heart is telling him to do—but he should know which woman he’s falling for before he makes any ‘til death do us part promises.

  Reaching the top step, I knock on the cabin’s door, listening for sounds from inside in the silence that follows.

  But there’s nothing, only a faint whistling as the wind wheezes through the loose shingles on the steeply slanted roof.

  I knock again and wait, but it’s still so quiet inside I would think the place was empty if I hadn’t seen Elizabeth tumble through the front door minutes ago. Wondering if she might have slipped out the back again, I turn, but there’s no sign of her circling around to get into her car, and she isn’t going anywhere on foot. The last sign of civilization was a schoolhouse several kilometers back that looked as though it hadn’t seen active duty for a half-century or more.

  This cabin is in the middle of nowhere. How did she even know it was here?

  She must have connections, people willing to help her stay off the radar, which makes it even more important I pin her down before she can scurry off and find another place to hide.

  Balling my hand into a fist, I pound harder and shout, “Elizabeth, its Jeffrey. We need to talk.”

  The silence in response is even more complete, as if even the wind is holding its breath.

  “Elizabeth?” I sigh. “Sabrina? Please? Whoever you are? Can we talk? What you’re doing isn’t fair to Andrew. I know he was a little monster when we were children, but he’s not that boy anymore. He’s a good person, and he’s on the verge of becoming a king. He needs to be surrounded by people he can trust.”

  I lean closer to the door, ears straining and frustration building. “Seriously, Lizzy. You can’t hide in there forever. Eventually, you’ll have to face me and own up to—” I break off when a soft moan from just inside makes my heart stutter. “Lizzy? Are you all right?”

  The moan comes again, followed by a fragile croak, “So cold…”

  I reach for the door, deciding to break in through a window if I have to, but the handle gives easily. Apparently, Elizabeth forgot to lock it behind her. Or she didn’t get a chance.

  What the hell happened? Did she fall? Was she attacked? I didn’t see any other cars nearby, but on the off chance that someone hiked up here to lie in wait for her inside, I draw on my royal guard training, entering the space as if I expect an assailant to be hiding in the shadows.

  But a quick examination of the interior of the cabin reveals an open concept living room and kitchen with nowhere for an attacker to hide and nothing out of the ordinary…aside from the woman lying curled on the floor.

  “Elizabeth, what happened?” Shutting the door behind me, I crouch beside her. “Are you hurt? Did you fall or—”

  “Sick,” she croaks. “I think I’m really sick.”

  I press the back of my hand to her forehead. She’s burning up, and even in the dim light from the lamp glowing in the far corner, I can see the sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. But when I reach for the close of her scarf, she clutches it with one hand and shivers.

  “Please, I’m so cold,” she says, her teeth beginning to rattle. “It’s freezing in here.”

  “It’s not freezing. You’re running a fever,” I say, gently. “A high one, I’m guessing. We should get you to a hospital. I can drive.”

  She gives a slight shake of her head and curls into a tighter ball. “No hospitals around here, and I don’t need one. I just need a pill and…sleep. I’m soooo tired, Jeffrey. It just…hit me. All at once. Like lightning.”

  I exhale, weighing our options. She’s probably right about the hospital, and without cell service, I can’t check to see where the closest urgent care facility might be. I glance at my phone again to find one tiny flickering bar, but when I try Andrew a second time, it still doesn’t go through.

  “All right, let’s try to get your fever down,” I say, sliding one arm under her shoulders and the other beneath her knees.

  “What are you doing?” she murmurs. “I can walk.”

  “No, you can’t.” I lift her easily into my arms. She’s even lighter than she looks, like she’s made of air instead of flesh and bone like the rest of us.

  “You’re right.” Her head rolls to rest against my chest, her skin so hot I can feel it burning through my sweater. “I overdid it, Jeffrey,” she mumbles as I carry her down the circular staircase to my left, assuming the bedroom must be on the first floor. “I always do this. I work and work and work so hard, and then I fall apart and get sick. And I promise myself I won’t ever do it again, but I always do. Always.” She sniffs, and her shoulders begin to shake. “I’m a failure.”

  “You’re not a failure.” I flick on the lights at the bottom of the stairs, revealing a smaller sitting room with a couch
and floor-to-ceiling bookcases that hold enough paperbacks and board games to keep a family busy all winter. The door to the bedroom is on the other side of the room. I start toward it, adding, “When work defines you, it’s easy to let it take over.”

  “It does define me,” she says, sniffling as I move through the bedroom to the bathroom, relieved to see a larger-than-expected bathtub. “But what else am I supposed to do? Work won’t be sad when I leave it behind, Jeffrey. Work loves me, but not in that way. Not in the sad way.”

  “I’m going to run you a bath, all right?” I sit her down on the closed toilet seat and squat in front of her, taking both of her hot hands in mine. I wait until her gaze focuses on my face before I ask, “Do you think you can stay awake in the bath for a little while? Lukewarm water will help bring the fever down. And while you’re soaking, I’ll get my bag from the car. I have a first aid kit with medicine in it.”

  “I bought pain reliever. It’s upstairs. In the grocery bag.” Her eyes shine and her lips twitch down as she adds in a tragic voice, “I forgot to unpack the groceries.”

  “It’s okay.” I smile as I squeeze her hands. “Nothing to cry over. I’ll unpack them, bring your medicine, and then see if I can find cocoa or something in the pantry. For when you’re done with your soak.”

  “Cocoa sounds nice.” A single tear slips down her pale cheek. “You’re so nice. Why are you always so nice?”

  “I’m not always nice. I was very frustrated with you on the drive up here.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, you’re a terrible driver, for one. You shouldn’t be allowed on the road.”

  She sniffs and nods. “Well, yes, but I’m usually better. I think. I’m in an unfamiliar place, and I’m running a fever.”

  “Good points, both.” I pluck her hat from her head, placing it on the bathroom counter near the sink as I smooth the sweat-damp strands of hair from her flushed face. “And then there’s the fact that you and your sister are trying to pull a dirty trick on my brother. An illegal dirty trick. You do realize that marriage fraud is a crime.”