The Prince's Runaway Lover (Men of the Zodiac)

by Robin Covington

  “I thought you were going to work on your diplomacy skills, Nicholas. I don’t know how that display helped your case to remain on the throne,” his mother said as she sidled up next to him. Chris made the move to slip away but she stopped him with a touch of her hand on his arm. “Please stay. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

  “Mother, that was diplomatic. I didn’t tell them to take their report and stick it up their—”

  She cut him off. “I understand, Nicholas. You are determined to do this the hard way.”

  “I am determined to do this my way.”

  She responded with a sigh and a narrowing of her eyes. “I cannot imagine why you thought you needed to pull your little stunt today. It’s already all over the papers and everyone is wondering who the woman is in the baseball cap.”

  She was going straight to her real concern. Any woman and her son was her top priority.

  “She was the friend who enabled me to see what I needed to see. I couldn’t have done it without her and I promised her that I would protect her identity.”

  “It wouldn’t be the new assistant gardener, would it? I understand you two are spending a great deal of time together.”

  She tried to keep her tone neutral but everything from the top of her professionally styled hair down to the expensive heels she wore barely masked her displeasure. Nick almost felt sorry for her. She was grieving the loss of her child, faced the half-death of her husband every day as she cared for him through the good days of his sweet, child-like bewilderment and endured the days of anger as he became a stranger. The Dowager Queen Beatrice was a strong woman and Alec had been amenable to her expectations and the requirements of the job. But both he and his mother were too much alike. Nick was also strong-minded and he would not go quietly where he did not want to be. A lifetime of negotiating their too-similar personalities had led to an easy love and companionship between him and his mother, but these days were straining and his mother was at the end of her patience.

  “We run together every morning,” Nick said, knowing better than to offer information that was not directly solicited. Less was definitely more when it came to his mother.

  “And the time spent at her cottage?” He couldn’t stop the look of surprise on his face, not that she knew but that she brought it up. His mother was a master of innuendo and direct confrontation was not her usual modus operandi. “I never said anything about your women before, but Nicholas, your new circumstance and the challenge by Rushing requires a change in your behavior.”

  “Isabel is not my woman.” He ignored the whisper in his mind that he wanted her to be more than she was now, the promise of their shared kiss making him crave time to explore her, to explore the possibility of them. “She is a friend.”

  “Well, she better be if she’s going to start playing Bonnie to your Clyde.”

  He bit back a snort of laughter at her dramatic exaggeration. “She took me to see the refugee camp. We didn’t rob a bank.”

  “You had to run like a common criminal, dragging her behind you.” She sniffed her disapproval, glancing around and nodding briefly to those who were trying to act like they weren’t staring at the confrontation between mother and son. “If she’d been a real friend she would have talked you out of the entire idea.” She cut a scathing glance at Chris. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

  “Ma’am, you know your son.” He stole a glance at Nick that told him that he was going to get his ass kicked later for putting him in this position with his mother. “I didn’t know he was going until he called me for a ride back to the palace.”

  His mother let that settle between them, her blue gaze assessing and sharp enough to cut glass. Nick could tell that she wanted to continue this conversation, but the press of her social obligation as hostess could not be ignored any longer. He wasn’t ashamed to be excited by the reprieve because there would be no agreement tonight on the path he should follow. He didn’t want to argue with her in a room full of people just dying to get a juicy morsel of palace gossip.

  “Nicholas, I ignored the supermodels, the party girls, and the former porn star because the burden of ruling didn’t fall on your shoulders. But you are the monarchy now, you are the face of stability and continuity for your people. You cannot continue as you are, making rash decisions, ignoring the advice of your advisors, and creating entanglements with women who are inappropriate. Your father and your brother would not have indulged in your stubborn, willful behavior. They would have put the nation first.”

  Nick reeled back from her words, the sting of comparison and his clear failure to live up to her expectations as real as a physical slap. He steadied his anger and his voice before he answered in a tone so low she had to lean forward to hear him.

  “My actions to date are neither stubborn nor willful. It is because of my people that I refuse to take the advice of a group of men and women who are only concerned with themselves and would leave homeless, wrecked, and terrified men, women, and children without the help they need. My father would have done no less. Alec would have done no less.”

  He took a breath and gathered his thoughts, injecting a finality and warning in his voice that he’d never used with his mother before. “If I am to do this well, I must go my own way and in line with my own conscience, and that includes who I will eventually choose as my queen. I love you, Mother, but you must tread lightly here or we may break something that we cannot ever repair.”

  Chapter Ten

  The garden was not her happy place today.

  Isabel removed her sunglasses and squinted at the stone arrangement surrounding the newly created green space in the garden and tried to figure out what was wrong. Usually the solution came to her as naturally as breathing but today even her extensive training wasn’t giving her the answer she sought. Unlike the credentials listed on her resume, she actually possessed a degree in landscape engineering from the University of Oklahoma and the fact that she couldn’t solve this problem spoke volumes as to how messed up in the head she was. And like every other woman in the history of the world, the source of her mindfuckery was a man. Or in her case a prince.

  Nick had left her yesterday with his taste on her mouth and an ache between her thighs that had forced her into a run late last night. Speeding through the darkness, she’d relished the cooling breeze on her too-tight and heated skin but couldn’t drown out the sights and sounds of a party at the palace. She’d pictured Nicky there, wearing formal wear as he often did in photos published about him. Even draped in black Armani, he could never lose the feral, sexy, untamable vibe that she didn’t realize she loved so much until it had been leveled at her, up close and very personally yesterday afternoon.

  An attempt at distracting herself with TV didn’t help. Shot after shot of her, face hidden behind the hat, glasses and Nicky’s protective arms, cranked up her emotions even further. The only solace was that no one seemed to have a clue who the mystery woman was and she breathed a sigh of relief that her identity was unknown.

  Long sleepless hours had done nothing to calm her and in the still of the night she’d given in to the demands of her body and touched herself. Body slick with her desire, her strokes had begun slowly, as if to draw out the fantasy of Nicky kissing her, sliding his fingers over her skin, under her clothes. It had not been enough until she’d slid her own digits inside her depth, pretending it was him fucking her until she had no choice but to give him what he wantedher surrender. Her release had bowed her back off the bed, the blackness behind her eyelids punctuated by the string of stars.

  Panting, body alive with the aftershocks of her orgasm, Isabel had fallen into an exhausted sleep and missed the morning run for the first time since her arrival at the palace. A text from Nicky asking if she was okay was a shock since she didn’t know he had her number but the fact that he’d typed how much he’d missed seeing her and that he needed to see her again soon awoke her hunger for him again. Isabel had allowed herself the indulgence of being just a woman who was
wanted by a man for a few moments, pushing aside the reality of their impossibly different lives.

  Screen after screen of Nicky with Lady Charlotte and every announcer speculating on the inevitable affair between them popped her bubble and let her crash to the ground. Lady Charlotte was tall with blond hair that was perfectly smoothed and styled and she wore her ball gown like the princess she might become. If Isabel was a gambler, she’d bet that Charlotte didn’t even own a flip-flop.

  Jealousy, your name is Isabel.

  Disgusted with herself and her indulgent fantasies, she’d stomped off to the garden where even the soil and the flowers did not alleviate her wicked headache or bad temper. The vision of the Dowager Queen Beatrice headed in her direction, flanked by her security, did not bode well for her mood lightening anytime soon. There was no doubt this wasn’t a social call.

  The older woman, beautiful, regal and everything a queen should be, stopped in front of her and Isabel dropped into a curtsy, cursing the heaviness of her work boots. She rose and wiped her hands on her jeans as discreetly as possible. Her visitor’s eyes slid down to glance at her movement and she gave up, remembering she wasn’t allowed to touch the woman anyway.

  “You are Isabel Reynolds, yes?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Protocol demanded that she wait for her to continue the conversation.

  “I understand you accompanied the crown prince to the refugee camp yesterday afternoon.”

  “Well, he actually accompanied me.” She paused, not sure if this was the correct way to proceed but when she didn’t stop her, she continued. “I was going to perform my volunteer hours and NickyHis Royal Highnessasked to come along.”

  “If I know my son he didn’t ask. He invited himself along.”

  “You know him very well then.”

  The dowager queen eased past Isabel, walking down the path, a wave of her hand indicating that Isabel should follow.

  “Ms. Reynolds, I am not here to chastise you for the risky and unwise visit yesterday afternoon. My son Nicky…” With emphasis on the name that she’d let slip, the older woman cast a look at Isabel that was more curiosity than judgment. “…He will do what he wants and no one can talk him out of it.”

  Isabel took a chance and offered her two cents. “He really felt like he needed to see the camp without the fact that he was a prince getting in the way. He wanted the truth, not the craziness that happened at the end.”

  “He should expect it by now. He was born to it.”

  Her visitor stopped and turned to face her, her eyes taking in Isabel from her toes to the top of her head. She felt exposed under the look but refused to shrink back or react, sensing that this was the test she needed to pass. “He values your opinion and your friendship, and I need to know if you value his in return.”

  “I do. He’s my friend.” Isabel did not hesitate to answer such an easy question but she knew it wouldn’t end there. The queen did not disappoint.

  “And nothing more?”

  Isabel knew her cheeks flushed in response to the question, the heat under her skin not a product of the sunshine beating down on them both.

  The queen nodded, acknowledging her unspoken answer. “Isabel, I have looked at your file and learned all I can about you. You appear to be a smart, resourceful, hardworking young woman and if Nicholas was not who he was I would have no objection to your being a part of his life or in his bed. Because of my respect for you, I will be blunt and tell you what I’m sure you already know: you are not the woman I want for my son. You are not the woman he needs.”

  Isabel bit back the urge to deliver one of those movie speeches where the heroine tells the meddling mother to get the hell out of her personal business. But what was the point? The truth of the matter was that she was a fugitive and any type of long-term thing with anyone was impossible. The fact that Nicky was one of the most famous people in the world was largely irrelevant to the end game.

  “Your Royal Highness, I am not staying in Callanos long. As soon as the restoration project on your garden is complete, I will be moving on to my next position. I can assure you that I will never be on the short list for your son’s wife and I would never do anything that would jeopardize his future.”

  The queen paused, clearly taken off guard when she didn’t get the protestations and argument she was expecting.

  “I appreciate your directness, Ms. Reynolds.” She twisted her hands together in front of her, the only sign that her answer had truly thrown her for a loop. Nicky looked so much like his mother, the light hair, the blue eyes that rivaled the colors of the sea, the smile that took over his entire face. And underneath the steely strength that some would call stubborn and probably was the number one source of all clashes between mother and son. She wondered if they knew how similar they were. “I am sorry if this was uncomfortable for you, but I needed to come to an understanding.”

  “Well, I think it’s clear that we are both on the same page, so…” She realized that her statement was also intended as a dismissal and she worried for the briefest second if that would get her into trouble but she shook it off. Too little sleep and anger over getting herself in this situation to begin with made her bold and a few steps beyond caring.

  “I agree. Thank you again.” She looked around the gardens, head nodding in approval. “And thank you for the wonderful work on the gardens. Paul Arzos is correct when he says you are a very talented young woman.”

  Isabel barely got a chance to utter her own thanks for the compliment when the dowager queen turned on her high heels and walked away, her bodyguards following closely like two large black ducklings.

  Done with the day in spite of the items left on her to-do list, Isabel took off in the other direction, headed straight for her cottage, a hot shower, and a bucket of ice cream in front of the TV. She desperately wished her sister Irene were here, the tradition of rocky road and a marathon of old Saved by the Bell episodes had gotten her through some of the toughest times of her life. The price of her mistake was always present, but at times like this she felt the full weight of the penalty and wondered if it would one day cripple her under its burden.

  The shower was hot and loosened some of the tension in her shoulders. The cotton sundress she put on was soft as silk and cool on her skin as she settled on the couch with a spoon and the tub of ice cream and clicked the remote through the channels. Her favorite show was not on but one channel played Law and Order non-stop and that would be fine. Nothing like a little fictional murder to get your mind off your own troubles.

  She ignored the buzzing of her phone. Refused to read the texts from Nicky. But it was no surprise when his knock sounded at her door. No, it wasn’t a knock; it was three loud raps, which conveyed quickly that her prince was not in a particularly charming mood. His voice, strong and direct, traveled to her as if there was not a slab of ancient wood between them.

  “Isabel, let me in.”

  “It’s open,” she called out. She’d debated locking it but knew she’d have to let him in eventually.

  The door swung open and Nicky entered, the afternoon light following him in as if he were Helios, the Greek god of the sun. She blinked up at him, realizing how dim her cottage had been with the shades pulled down and the lights off. If she’d been trying to portray herself as a sad, pathetic, mopey femaleput a check in her win column.

  He was dressed down again, in jeans and a snug-fitting T-shirt with a faded logo of some triathlon on it. His tattoos peeked out from the sleeves on both arms, his biceps bulging and straining the material. His blond hair was mussed and she smelled his clean, spiced cologne and the warmth of his skin on the breeze that trailed in behind him.

  “Are you ignoring me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Is this because of my mother?” He shook his head. “She had no right to speak to you. I’ve already had words with her over it.”

  Isabel put down the tub of ice cream and stood to face him, incredulous that he continued to put h
is head in the sand. “She had every right, Nicky. She’s your mom and she knows more than anyone what you need in your life and I’m not it. She knows it. I know it. You know it, too.”

  “I know that you keep throwing up excuses to keep us at arm’s length from each other.”

  He advanced on her and while she thought it would spook her, it didn’t. Nicky was a large man, so much bigger than she was and he could hurt her if he wanted to but she wasn’t afraid. A small irrational part of her brain wished he did freak her out a little because her strong sense of self-preservation would overcome the attraction that made this such a difficult task. She didn’t want to like him. She didn’t want to want him.

  “They aren’t excuses. I’m not staying.”

  He took two steps closer, his hand slashing through the air as if to erase her words. “Plans change. You’re here right now.”

  “Why don’t you go find Lady Charlotte? She’s probably sitting by the phone waiting for you to call her.”

  “I don’t want to call Lady Charlotte. Not today. Not any day.” He shifted closer, reaching out a hand to stroke softly along the skin of her arm. “What are we arguing about? Are you jealous because I had a few photos taken with her last night?”

  She scoffed and took a step back, far enough to get away from his distracting caress. “I’m not jealous. I have no right to be jealous.”

  He observed her closely, his expression turning thoughtful and losing some of its angry heat. He moved quickly, grabbing her waist in both of his hands and pulling her to him until he was a wall of hot muscle and hard man pressed up against her body. But his mouth was soft, his tongue almost sweet in its push against the seam of her lips. In her surprise and her ever-present desire for him, she opened to his kiss. Expecting the kiss to go hotter, wetter, the gentle seduction was her undoing and when he pulled back she chased his retreat, seeking more of what he offered.