Royal Wedding Threat

by Rachelle Mccalla

  If anyone was trying to follow them, he was as good at evasive maneuvers as Ava, who kept his every question focused solely on her work contacts, never anything that touched her personal life. Besides making him frustrated, her intentional avoidance raised his curiosity. What was Ava trying to hide, and why was she so determined to hide it?

  His suspicions raised, Jason took the long way around a distant island and glared at Ava, meeting her eyes when she tried to look away. “I want to know about you,” he told her bluntly, after she’d headed off his less-pointed questions. “Where do you come from? Who do you care about?”

  Ava pressed her back against the passenger’s chair and glared at him. “I’m from Seattle. I don’t care about anyone.”

  “You don’t care about anyone?” He tested her. Cold though the woman might be, he doubted her words could be true. Even the spiky-haired wedding planner had to care for someone, didn’t she? “What about friends, family?”

  “I don’t have any siblings. My mother died last year, and my father and I—we haven’t been on speaking terms since.”

  “So nobody likes you. You’ve made it a point to keep it that way. Why?”

  The wedding planner turned away from him and looked out to sea, blinking rapidly. Perhaps the wind bothered her eyes. It had stirred loose her hair from its frozen dome, causing it to flutter in the misty sea breeze like real hair instead of spiked armor.

  Or perhaps she was blinking away tears. Had he hit on something, a tender spot with real feelings underneath? He sensed he’d struck a nerve. Would probing deeper reveal the identity of the murderer who was after her? It was worth a try to find out.

  “Why don’t you talk to your father anymore?”

  “We don’t see eye to eye. He’s stubborn and demanding.”

  “Is that where you got it from?” Jason gave her a quick glance before returning his attention to the sea. He knew the islands well from growing up in Sardis and boating along the archipelago often, but this far from the city, the open currents of the sea could shift underwater rock formations overnight. Not only did he have to watch the water, but he also looked behind them to be certain they were alone.

  Empty blue water trailed out behind them, his view cut off by the island they’d just rounded. If someone was trying to follow them, he was staying plenty far behind.

  “What does my father have to do with the murderer who’s after me?” Ava’s voice sounded slightly unsteady.

  Jason couldn’t let her emotional state distract him from pursuing a possible lead. Her life was at stake. “Somebody is trying to kill you,” he reminded her bluntly. “Murder isn’t the usual response to a professional slight. Whoever wants you dead has to have a good reason—something bigger than having their table toppers rejected.”

  “Wedding planning is a cutthroat business,” Ava told him, though her voice lacked its usual sharp edge. “It’s not all flowers and cake.”

  “I want to know why nobody likes you. Didn’t you ever have any friends?”

  “No!” Ava snapped back too abruptly, even for her. “No, I never did.”

  “But your clients all seem to love you. They recommend you to their friends. The royal family adores you.” Jason couldn’t deny that truth, though he’d never figured out the discrepancy between her prickliness toward him and her devotion to her brides.

  “They adore my work,” Ava corrected him. “They love the wedding planner. They don’t even know me.”

  Jason glanced around the boat again, but the route to Dorsi sent him swinging west. He was onto something. Ava had issues, that much was certain. He believed her earlier claim that she didn’t smile anymore. She’d said it was a deliberate choice and the reason was a long story. What was the story? Would it explain her issues with people and her refusal to smile? Would it provide the clues he needed to understand why someone wanted to kill her?

  He had to find out. “How did you come to be a wedding planner?”

  Ava let out a long breath. “I don’t see what this has to do—”

  “You promised you’d answer my questions,” Jason reminded her.

  “Fine. All right.” She drummed her enameled-red fingernails on the side rail as though the discussion made her nervous. “My father is a minister at a very large church in Seattle. There are several ministers at the church, but he’s always been the one to do most of the weddings. He’d have one nearly every week, sometimes more than one each week. When I was young I loved going to rehearsals and even the weddings with him. I loved the music and the dresses, the flowers, pageantry, the promise of happiness and—” She stopped short.

  Jason suspected she’d been going to say love. Before he could wonder at her deliberate omission, she continued.

  “Before long, I knew everything there was to know about weddings. I’d tasted all the cakes, heard all the soloists and string quartets. I knew where the spare microphones were and who to call if someone fell sick at the last moment or got stuck on the East Coast in a blizzard. I could talk a nervous bride out of vomiting—that’s harder than it sounds. Once they start to hyperventilate, they’re almost certain to lose it. You have to watch their eyes. If they roll back, grab a bucket and try to spare the gown.”

  Jason couldn’t help grinning at the image of the strictly business wedding planner swooping in to rescue a bride from her own nerves, especially given the animated way Ava spoke, the way her eyes lit up as she talked about the job she loved. So Ava Wright wasn’t entirely heartless. She cared about brides and loved weddings. According to the brochures in her duffel bag, her wedding-planning business in the U.S. had been called Happily Ever After. Yet Ava herself made it a point never to smile, let alone feel happy. Why not?

  “So how did you and your father end up not speaking to each other? It sounds to me as though you worked together.”

  “We worked together just fine for years, though as my business branched out I worked with other churches.” Ava nibbled her lower lip before speaking, her voice softer now, so that Jason had to strain to hear over the sound of the boat and the sea. “Last fall my mother was hit by a car while crossing the street in front of our family home. The doctors put her on life support. My father insisted on pulling the plug. I begged him not to. I told him he was killing her, but he did it anyway.”

  Jason felt a knot form in his throat. So Ava had a heart after all. And it had been hurt. Badly. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all in the past. I got a call from Queen Monica the week after my mother’s funeral, wanting to know if I could plan the vow-renewal ceremony for her and King Thaddeus. Monica and her sister Julia had been bridesmaids in weddings I’d done in Seattle—they grew up there, you know. She knew me and trusted me. I came to Lydia. They asked me to stay on for the rest of the royal weddings. I returned to Seattle just long enough to pack my essential things and dispose of the rest.”

  Ava turned to him from looking out to sea. “So you see, I left everyone in Seattle behind months and months ago. No one there has any reason to think about me, much less want to murder me. The threat must be coming from Lydia. Perhaps someone doesn’t want Prince Alexander’s wedding to go off well. Have you thought of that? Kill the wedding planner, ruin the wedding.”

  “I thought you said Prince Alexander’s wedding was ready to go, save for the final rehearsal.”

  “Yes, but I do have a number of final meetings next week. And anyway, a murderer wouldn’t necessarily know that I’ve got all the plans made already.” Ava blew out an impatient huff. “The threat has to be coming from Lydia. That’s all there is to it.”

  But Jason wasn’t ready to accept that fact, not when the survey of Ava’s past had revealed so much. Bracing himself for what might be an angry response, he asked a hard question. “Who was driving the car that hit your mother?”

  Instead of anger, Ava winced as though she’d
been struck, and appeared to blink back tears. “I don’t know. The car drove away. There weren’t any witnesses. The only person who could have answered that question was my mother.”

  * * *

  To Ava’s relief, she spotted the distinct castle ruins that marked the island of Dorsi just ahead of them in the open sea. Good. She couldn’t talk about her past much longer, not without crying. And Jason Selini had already seen her unsteady and embarrassed. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching her cry.

  Though that seemed to be the captain’s intent, with all the probing, painful questions he’d asked. What could her mother’s death possibly have to do with anything? It had been months and months ago, halfway around the world. And the police had ruled it an accident.

  The motor grew silent as Captain Selini slowed the boat, steering it nimbly toward the opening to a narrow inlet, past rocky cliffs that protected the secret cove. As the boat traveled around a bend to where a soft sand beach stretched out behind the rocky promontory, beyond the sight of anyone traveling past the island, the captain scowled, his eyes trained behind her.

  “What?” She looked back to see what caused him to stare, but saw only the beautiful blue waves.

  “I’d feel more comfortable if I knew we weren’t being followed.” He shook his head. The boat had already slipped past the cliffs, blocking it from the sight of anyone who might pass by the island, but also blocking their view of the sea.

  “Do you really think someone could find this spot? None of those boats were close enough to see where we came in.”

  “They could if they were watching us with binoculars.” The captain leaped onto the beach, towing a rope behind him, which he used to secure the boat to the jutting branch of a fallen tree. Then he held out his hands toward her.

  Ava hesitated. She hadn’t taken his hand getting into the boat, but should have. And jumping down past the lapping water onto the soft sand was vastly more difficult than stepping off a pier built for the purpose of making it easy to get on and off boats.

  Reluctantly she reached for his hand. Leaning forward, she pushed off with her feet as her fingers brushed his.

  “Oof!” To her dismay, in her effort to avoid hitting him, she landed with one knee in the soft sand.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” Ava stood, brushing the sand from her knee. Realizing she wasn’t hurt, she straightened and led him toward the path to the Queen’s Tower. “It’s this way.” She hurried up the trail, the soles of her black leather walking shoes sinking deep into the sand.

  The sandy trail turned to rocks as the path grew steeper, narrowing between the sheer wall of an ascending cliff on one side and the steep drop of the descending cliff on the other. Ava trusted the captain to follow her—he could surely see her footprints clearly, and once he was on the path, there wasn’t anywhere else he could go. She was glad for that. Having only visited the island once, she might otherwise have had trouble finding what she sought.

  A moment later the limestone tower loomed above her, and she ducked through the arched doorway into a wide stone room. The forsaken place felt cold, with sunlight penetrating only through the doorway and a couple of windows framed by thick stones. She shivered and looked back.

  Jason smiled at her as he approached. Ava felt her heart lurch—with relief, of course, just relief—at seeing him still behind her. It wasn’t as though her heart had any reason to be doing flip-flops at the sight of his smile. She just didn’t want to be alone on the island. And Jason had saved her life. Surely whatever happiness she felt at the sight of him was due to the knowledge that he would protect her now, just as he had done earlier.

  “There are stairs up to the top of the tower—it’s got a glorious view of the entire island. From there we can see—”

  But Jason extended his hand and cut her off. “Shh—listen.”

  Ava clamped her mouth closed and tried to make out any sound besides the cool wind and the hammering of her heart after the brisk climb. Wondering if perhaps the stone walls blocked outside sounds, she tiptoed toward the captain, still straining to hear. As she neared him, she detected his scent, faint but manly, reminding her of being in his arms. She shook off the memory. The man had a fine set of shoulders, she’d grant him that, but she wasn’t about to waste any time wishing she was close to him. She knew better. And the man very nearly hated her.

  Finally, hearing nothing, she asked, “What?”

  “I thought I heard a boat motor.” He shook his head. “They may have stilled the engine as they approached the island.”

  “No one is supposed to approach the island.” Ava met his eyes and saw concern and perhaps a glimmer of fear. The captain didn’t show fear often, of that she felt certain. Today had been an exception, and for good reason. “Do you think we were followed?”

  “Quick.” He took her hand and led her toward the arched opening to the stone stairs that led to the top of the tower. “Let’s get to where we can see. If anyone’s followed us, I can use my cell phone to call the guards to bring a helicopter.”

  Ava followed him up the stairs quickly. Hip-high parapets encircled the flat landing that towered at least twenty feet above the rest of the island. “Careful of the wall.” She repeated the warning Kirk had given her on their previous visit. “Some of the old stones are loose. If you lean on them, they could fall.”

  In spite of her words, Jason walked close to the edge, placed one hand on the upward jut of parapet and looked back down the trail, over the treetops, toward the cove where they’d left the boat.

  She marched over to stand beside him, fully intending to chide him for ignoring her warning, when she glanced in the direction where he looked, and gasped.

  “A boat?” she whispered, watching through the gaps in the leafy treetops as a lone figure jumped from a second vessel. For an instant, she dared to hope the man, whose face was hidden in the shadows of a dark baseball cap, might have watched them enter the forbidden island and come to warn them the island was unsafe.

  But then the man finished tying his boat next to theirs and pulled an object from his waistband. She saw it clearly through a break in the trees, just before the man bounded toward the trail they’d taken to the tower.

  Ava sucked in a breath and looked up at Jason.

  He’d clearly seen what the man held, too.

  A gun.

  SIX

  Jason pulled out his phone and glanced back toward the stairs, then to the trail, thinking quickly. The gunman had no doubt seen their footprints in the sand and would have no trouble following them to the tower. The man would reach the top of the tower in two minutes or less.

  Grimacing, Jason shoved his phone back into its holster. His reception was extremely low. Even if he could get a call or text to go through, there was no way the royal-guard helicopter would make it there in time. If Jason called or texted them, he’d waste valuable time.

  He had to get Ava to safety.

  But how would they escape the approaching gunman?

  “Is there another way down from the tower?” he asked Ava in a whisper.

  “Not that I know of,” she admitted with a shaking voice, her words so faint he had to stand close to hear. “The only way down from the tower is the trail.”

  Jason cringed. He should have known better than to agree to come to the dangerous island with Ava. The last time he’d visited the place, he’d witnessed firsthand what a fall from that very tower could do to a man. Viktor Bosch, the previous head of the royal guard, had fallen to his death from the Queen’s Tower. In fact, the Kevlar ropes from that very incident were still entwined around the parapets, extending down the back side of the tower past the treetops.

  Crossing back to the other side of the tower, Jason scanned the trail. The gunman was already past the sand to the path that led past the cli
ffs. He’d reach the tower the very next minute. Jason grabbed Ava’s hand, pulling her toward the back wall of the tower and taking hold of a rope with his other hand. It held securely, providing a possible means of escape. And given the circumstances, Jason was certain escape was far preferable to confrontation.

  “Grab hold of this,” he whispered close to her ear. “I’ll help you over the edge.”

  “What?” Ava yelped a little too loudly. If the gunman knew for certain where they were, he’d reach them that much more quickly.

  “We’re going to have to rappel down the back side of the tower. There’s no other way to escape.”

  “Can’t you fight him off?”

  “He’s got a gun. Either or both of us could be shot.”

  “So we’ll fall to our deaths—is that better?”

  Jason hardly listened to her protests. He could hear footsteps echoing up the stone stairs from the room directly below them. In a moment the gunman would spot the steps, realize where they’d surely gone and find them. There wasn’t time for Jason to send Ava over the wall and still follow her, even if she was willing to go.

  “Shh,” he whispered as he looped one arm securely around her slender waist. “Hold on to me.”

  With his other hand still tightly gripping the military-grade rope, Jason swung one leg over the wall and pulled Ava down after him.

  Her whole body shuddered with a suppressed whimpering scream as she held tight to him. He could feel her heartbeat racing and didn’t doubt she was terrified. He didn’t feel particularly confident, either, not given the way she wriggled with fear or the fact that the gunman would surely spot them the moment he looked over the wall.

  And he’d no doubt look over the wall.

  “I need both hands to climb down.” Jason found Ava’s ear and pressed his mouth close, whispering as quietly as he dared and hoping the wind from the open sea would bury his words instead of carrying them to the gunman. “Hold on tight to me. I can’t hold on to you.”

  To his relief, Ava didn’t fight him, but tightened her hold around him—one arm looped over his shoulder, next to his neck, the other curled under his opposite arm, so that she clung securely without choking him. Aware the gunman could spot them at any moment, Jason began the descent hand over hand, moving as quickly as he dared. To his relief, the top of the tower was encircled by jutting corbels, so that the crown projected outward several feet beyond the stem. Once Jason had descended far enough that they hung below the cover of the treetops and the base of the corbels, he paused to catch his breath.