The Lost Prince

by Dees, Cindy

  Nick interrupted, “You knew the coup was coming? Why in the bloody hell didn’t you tell me?”

  “Frankly we didn’t expect you to stay in Baraq. A grave miscalculation on our part. But in the past you’d made it clear you wanted no part of ruling the country. You must admit, your track record has been…less than committed.”

  Nick snorted. That was one way of putting it. He gestured for Kareem to go on with his explanation.

  The older man pressed on doggedly, “A few of your father’s advisors—men that both he and I trusted completely—were approached. Plans were put into place to protect Baraq in the event of a coup d’état. Certain funds were transferred out of the country, and vital documents were removed from your father’s office. In a word, we could not prevent Sharaf from seizing power, but we did our best to prevent him from succeeding once he had control of the country.”

  Nick stared. “I repeat, why in the bloody hell didn’t you warn me?”

  Nagheb intervened. “I told him not to. If you will forgive my bluntness, you were an unknown quantity. Unpredictable.”

  “Unpredictable?” Nick laughed shortly. “Let us not mince words, gentlemen—I was completely unreliable.”

  Nagheb bowed his head briefly in assent. “Also, we did not expect Sharaf to move quite so quickly. But your unexpected decision to stay in Baraq and actually rule, forced his hand. He surprised us all with the speed of his attack.”

  Kareem took up the narrative. “Thankfully most of our preparations were already complete.”

  Nagheb chuckled. “You ought to have seen Sharaf’s face when he realized the national coffers were completely empty. I must say, he turned a most satisfying shade of purple.”

  And the pieces started to fall into place. Those large and unexpected deposits in his father’s London bank accounts over the last few weeks before he’d died. The couriers arriving with sealed satchels of documents to be put in London safe-deposit boxes. Kareem and Nagheb had been clearing the way for Sharaf to take power and fail while they quietly rescued vital resources from the man.

  Nick turned to the third gentleman, who up until now had been sitting quietly, observing the conversation. “And who might you be?”

  The pleasant-looking man in his late sixties nodded politely. “My name is John Sutherland. In point of technical fact, I am your stepfather.”

  “My what?” Would the revelations never end?

  “Your stepfather. I am married to your mother. And that makes me your stepfather.”

  “When the hell did that happen?”

  “Several months ago. I believe you were on a skiing holiday.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it,” Nick said with genuine regret. “Congratulations.”

  The guy was decent about it and nodded politely. Sutherland added, “Your mother and I arranged portions of your escape from Baraq. This is my yacht, in fact. Your mother took care of the Akuba end of the plan while I set up this end of it.”

  “My mother went to Akuba? I have a hard time believing that, Mr. Sutherland. When she left twenty-five years ago, she vowed never to go back.”

  Kareem spoke up. “I believe the concern of a mother for her son overcame her reservations about returning. He speaks the truth. Your mother was instrumental in arranging your escape.”

  “An escape I did not want, Kareem,” Nick growled. “You directly disobeyed my wishes in this matter. I chose to die as the king of my country.”

  “For what purpose, boy?” Kareem snapped. “What end would your dying serve? The people of Baraq do not have the wherewithal to toss Sharaf and the Army out of power. That must come from foreign powers abroad. Only the legitimate king of Baraq has the clout to secure such assistance. Your people need you. You must negotiate for them overseas. You must speak for them in the international arena. You must procure their freedom from tyranny.”

  Nick pressed his eyes shut for a moment. “That’s all well and good, Kareem. And I may indeed be qualified to do those things. But so are several other able and willing Baraqi citizens of note. You and Nagheb here, to name a couple.”

  “Do you wish for us to turn this ship around and take you back to Baraq, Your Highness?” Nagheb asked. “If you hand yourself over to Sharaf now, you will look like a colossal fool to the Baraqi people. They would never understand such a sacrifice. They would think the gesture was a waste and they would be right.”

  Nick began to pace the large salon that suddenly seemed far too small for comfort. Dammit, these do-gooders had tied his hands! Of course, it wasn’t as if he actually wanted to die. His overriding sensation at being alive right now was one of profound relief. Now he might get a chance to set Baraq to rights after all, to see his children grow up, to grow old with Katy.

  But these guys were missing the point. If he was to go forward as Baraq’s king, they had to understand the rules by which he planned to do it—honor and duty being foremost among them.

  He spoke slowly, searching for words to explain himself. “I had a great deal of time to think when I was locked in that cell. More time than I cared to have to reflect upon my mistakes in life. And while I was counting my sins, I vowed not to repeat them. I swore to myself and to…someone else…that I would not ever run like a coward again. I promised I would step forth as a king and take what was coming to me. Frankly hanging isn’t more than I deserve for the way I’ve shirked my duty to Baraq over the years.”

  The three men drew breath to argue, but Nick waved them to silence.

  “Yes, I am glad to be alive. But I am deeply disappointed that you did not abide by my wishes. Don’t you see what you have done to me? You have made a mockery of what little honor I had left.”

  Chapter 11

  It was good to be home, albeit intensely surreal after the past few weeks. Washington, D.C., her apartment and all the modern conveniences of life were a shock after Akuba, dungeons and martial law. Katy got a little sleep and forced some food down. And waited for a phone call or an e-mail or a letter from Nick. Anything to let her know that her husband was alive.

  After three endless days and three even longer nights, her silent, desperate vigil began to take on another dimension. Her period was due any day.

  On the fourth day, she couldn’t take the guessing game anymore. She went to a drugstore and bought an early-pregnancy test.

  Now that the moment was at hand to know whether or not she and Nick had succeeded in creating an heir to the Ramsey throne, Katy almost didn’t want to find out.

  Or more to the point, she was afraid of finding out she wasn’t pregnant. All of Nick’s hopes had rested on this baby. The whole time she’d been in Baraq, she’d wished for it so hard her heart had hurt. What if she wasn’t pregnant? All their efforts to save Baraq would have been in vain.

  Well, not all in vain. She’d never imagined a love like theirs could exist so quickly or so strongly. She wouldn’t give up those precious weeks with Nick even if he had died and she hadn’t managed to conceive.

  Nonetheless, she chickened out on taking the test. Maybe a bite of lunch first to bolster her courage.

  A half hour later she sat in front of the television, eating macaroni and cheese out of the pan, staring at but not seeing a soap opera. She picked at the sticky noodles and their bright yellow-orange sauce congealing into an unappetizing glob.

  She was stalling. Hiding like a big dog from what she knew she must do. The test was sitting on her bathroom counter. And the answer wasn’t going to change if she waited any longer. Thing was, she didn’t feel pregnant. And that scared her to death.

  Of course, if she were being honest with herself, she’d admit she was also scared to death over why Nick hadn’t called her yet. He knew her cell phone number. He’d asked for it not long after they got married. He’d written it down and put the scrap of paper in his pocket, and he’d had it memorized the next time she’d seen him.

  So why hadn’t he used it? Was he hurt? Trapped? Alone somewhere? Had Sharaf and his goons done somethin
g dastardly to him in lieu of hanging him? It was hard not to let her imagination run completely amok at the maddening silence from him.

  She had to believe Nick had gotten away somehow. Sharaf had desperately wanted him dead. The general wouldn’t have substituted another man to die in Nick’s place. Someone loyal to Nick must have engineered an escape.

  Had it failed? Had Nick died in the escape attempt or maybe later trying to make his way out of Baraq to safety? She could scream, she was so frustrated at the total lack of answers!

  But there was one answer she could get, darn it.

  She stood up and marched into the bathroom. Her insides quailed, but resolutely she pulled out the instructions for the test and followed them. And then she carried the white plastic stick into the living room and sat down to wait. She stared at the little window for the required five minutes.

  And then she stared at it some more.

  And no matter how much she stared at it, that second blue line wouldn’t go away.

  She was pregnant.

  Nick pressed himself back into the shadows when a pair of men swaggered past as armed and dangerous men tend to do. Escaping the exclusive Washington, D.C. estate his mother and stepfather owned was proving to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.

  The guards mustn’t spot him! He held his breath. A few more steps and they’d move beyond his hiding spot. He touched the car keys in his pocket. He could taste freedom. He’d almost escaped.

  And then they were past.

  He exhaled in relief and darted across the open area between the house and a garage where the estate’s utility vehicles were stored. It had been an easy matter to trick the housekeeper by saying that his mother was looking for the keys to the minivan to get something out of its glove compartment. The housekeeper had handed them over without question.

  He slipped into the garage and let himself into the vehicle. Sitting on the left side felt exceedingly strange. He’d learned to drive in Britain where they sat on the right side. And in Formula One cars he’d sat in the center. But never on the left.

  It wasn’t as if he had time to familiarize himself with the car’s layout, though. Kareem or somebody would spot his absence sooner or later, and it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to guess where he’d gone.

  Nick punched the garage door opener and started the car. When he reached the tall iron security gate at the front of his mother’s estate, he punched the handy remote control button for that, too. And then he was free. He pulled out the detailed driving instructions to Katy’s house that he’d printed off the Internet, checked the odometer and turned right, as the directions said.

  Everyone else was wrong. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was the right thing to do. Kareem and George’s knickers were going to be in a serious knot over this little outing of his, but they could just get over it.

  It took Nick about a half hour to make his way across the north side of D.C. And then he was standing at an apartment door, staring at the correct number. He knocked.

  Nothing.

  He knocked harder. Still nothing.

  She had to be there. After this escape, his guards would never let him give them the slip again! He pounded some more. In fact, he pounded on Katy’s door until a neighbor opened his door and poked his head out.

  “She’s not there,” the elderly man announced.

  “Do you know where she is?” Nick asked. “It’s urgent that I speak with her right away.”

  “You might try Rock Creek Park. She likes to walk there. And she went out a little while ago wearing a sweat suit.”

  The helpful—or more likely just nosy—neighbor gave him directions for how to get to this park. Nick said a quick thanks and headed over.

  Katy noticed a man in the distance who didn’t belong in the park. It was his coat. Joggers in sweat suits, women with strollers, men in slacks, sweaters and jackets belonged on the lush green walking paths of Rock Creek Park. But a tailored wool dress coat with a suit and tie peeking out from its collar emphatically did not. And then she noticed something else about the man. He was walking quickly. With purpose. Toward her.

  There was something about the way he was coming at her, arrow-straight, that made her tense. Or maybe it was the sudden chilling realization that the child inside her already had enemies that would try to kill him or her.

  She looked more closely at the man as he approached. From a distance, he looked a bit like Nick. But then, every tall man with dark hair made her think that right now.

  The man came closer. He really did look like Nick. Or at least he looked the way Nick would if he was shaved, his nose healed and the bruises faded from around his eyes. He could be Nick’s cousin or even brother. He had the same aura of command about him that Nick had, except more of it. A lot more.

  She looked away hastily. And started when the man purposely stepped into her line of vision.

  “Katy?”

  And then she knew. Oh, God. It was his voice. Nick.

  Elated, she flung herself into him and they staggered as they embraced. His arms nearly crushed her, but she so didn’t care. She was probably crushing him, too. She cycled through tears to laughter to indignation that he hadn’t contacted her sooner and back to tears. And through it all only one thought consumed her: Nick’s alive!

  Finally, when the shock and relief of his unexpected appearance had worn off enough for her to breathe, he leaned back to smile down at her. “How are you?”

  And then she remembered. How was she, indeed! She pulled the white plastic stick out of her pocket and thrust it at him.

  He took it, staring down at it in noncomprehension. “What is this?”

  “It’s a pregnancy test. We did it. I’m pregnant!”

  And the wordless, incoherent blend of hugs and tears and laughter started all over again. They both tried to talk at once, laughed again. And finally Nick led her over to a park bench. They sat down, holding hands.

  “How did you find me?” Katy asked.

  “Your nosy neighbor told me you might be here.”

  Katy laughed. “God bless Mr. Kramer.” Then she said, “Tell me everything. How did you get out?”

  “I don’t really know. Some of my supporters drugged me, and I woke up nearly two days later on a yacht in the Mediterranean. I’m so sorry I couldn’t contact you sooner. I’m involved in delicate negotiations to convince your government and the United Nations to pressure Sharaf into stepping down and handing Baraq back over to me. My advisors felt it would be best to complete the deal in secrecy before the world knows I’m alive. They’ve had me all but under house arrest.”

  “How are you here now, then? Is your deal complete?”

  “No, no. The deal’s far from done. We’re still trying to convince the powers that be that I’ll be a better political bet than Sharaf. As for how I got here today—I made a run for it. I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.”

  Katy squeezed his hands in silent gratitude. He was so gorgeous. It was hard to imagine they were married and she was expecting their baby. That Baraqi prison cell with its desperation and fear seemed so far away all of a sudden. Another place and time entirely.

  “Tell me about the baby.”

  She smiled. “There’s not much to tell. I took a pregnancy test about an hour ago and it came up positive.”

  Nick’s eyes lit with fierce satisfaction. “Thank God I’ve finally got an heir. That makes my position even stronger in insisting that foreign powers help me regain my throne.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ve got to let Kareem know right away. He and George are talking to several government officials right now.”

  An odd sense of unreality struck Katy. She was sitting on her favorite park bench talking to a king about their baby! Plain old, everyday Katy McMann. Grace Kelly might land a foreign prince, but not her. And yet, the handsome, poised, intimidating man beside her was all too real. Faint unease rumbled in her stomach.

  Katy put a hand out and prevented him fro
m dialing. “Sharaf’s supporters will want to eliminate this baby the same way they want to eliminate you. I think it’s best we keep this child our secret for now, don’t you?”

  Nick frowned. “No, I don’t. It’ll be an important bargaining chip for me to convince your government to help me.”

  “But I’m barely two weeks pregnant. A lot can go wrong in the early stages of a pregnancy. Let’s get through the first trimester before we say anything.”

  Nick shook his head. “I can’t wait that long. I must strike while the iron is hot. The media images of soldiers dying in Baraq are still fresh in the minds of Americans. I can get the backing I need now. Two months from now, some other crisis will have captured your government’s attention and I’ll be old news. They’ll leave me to fend for myself against Sharaf.”

  Katy frowned as her unease grew into outright alarm. “Nick, I’m not comfortable with this child being used as a bargaining chip. His or her safety has to come first.”

  Nick’s eyes went dark. Guarded. “You’re right, of course,” he said smoothly.

  “I’m serious, Nick.”

  He nodded. “I understand your concerns. I agree that Sharaf’s men are, indeed, capable of trying to harm you and the baby. You must come back to my mother and stepfather’s estate and stay with me. There are armed guards, and every security precaution has been taken.”

  Katy frowned. “If the security’s that good, how did you get past it?”

  Nick scowled. “I snuck out. The security’s designed to stop people from sneaking in.”

  “I’m not crazy about the idea of living surrounded by bodyguards, Nick.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have married a king,” he retorted a bit sharply.

  “I didn’t marry a king,” she snapped. “I married a prisoner. A condemned man about to die.”

  “Do you wish I had died, then?”

  “Good grief, no. I’m just saying I don’t like the idea of living like a prisoner in my own home. My brothers get death threats now and then, and I’ve seen how they have to live when they’ve been threatened. And I don’t like it.”