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

by Robin Covington

  “How’s he doing?” she asked, after pressing a kiss to his cheek. She smelled of her lilac perfume and favorite body lotion.

  “He’s been sleeping well. The nurse said he had a rough night.”

  “Yes.” She slipped off her shoes, curling her feet under her in the big chair, her head resting on the back where she could watch her husband. “I swear it’s the new medication but the doctors tell me he’ll have to adjust to it and then it will be fine. His seizures are getting worse, so I hope the new protocol will do the trick.”

  Nick turned his head and looked at her, noting the new wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, the silver in her hair. She was still beautiful but the last year had been difficult for her. He reached out and grabbed her hand, smiling slightly when she turned her gaze of surprise to him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I should be asking you that question,” she said, squeezing his hand in emphasis. “We could do with a bit less drama in this family.”

  “True.” He turned back to watch his father and to gaze at the view of the gardens just outside the window, avoiding the thought of Isabel and the pain in his chest. “It’s been a rough six months for you and I want you to let me know if you’re not doing okay. We can switch around duties, give you a break…”

  He felt the shake of his mother’s head next to him. Her voice when she spoke was strong and clear.

  “My work kept me going after your father became ill and it gets me through the days of missing Alec. If I slow down I might have that breakdown I’ve been putting off.” She laughed but the end was watery and he turned just in time to see her wipe her eyes and blink rapidly. His mother was not an emotionally demonstrative person and people often thought she didn’t love deeply but exactly the opposite was true. She was devastated by the turn of her life; she just wasn’t the type to wallow in it.

  He’d relied on that side of the gene pool the past couple of days as he’d navigated the post-Isabel furor. Chris laid out the papers on his desk every morning and recorded the programs just in case he wanted to watch them. He didn’t. He was intimately familiar with how broken his heart was without hearing it discussed on the news along with the stock prices and car ads.

  “I brought you the file on Isabel Castillo compiled by our lawyers,” his mother said. Her understanding of where his mind had gone was uncanny. Mother’s intuition he supposed.

  “I’ve read it. Everything matches what she told me at the embassy.” He left the word “finally” unspoken and hovering in the air between them.

  “Being powerless and a woman is a terrifying place to be. It’s hard enough to be a woman but add to it the sense that people who are stronger and wealthier than you can manipulate your very life and it can compel you to do desperate things.” She shifted on the chair, the whisper of the fabric of her clothes the only sound in the room as he hung on her every word. “It’s very similar to the position of your refugees. The ones you are determined to help so badly.”

  “I’m not sure I understand your point, Mother.” He shifted in his seat to get a better look at her face. She was serene, thoughtful, but her eyes held the fire of conviction.

  “The report said he hurt her. Physically and quite badly.”

  “I saw the scars on her back. He beat her with a belt.” Nick squeezed his hands into fists. “I’ve never really wanted to kill anyone, but I would have broken his neck if he’d been near me at the time.”

  She hummed in agreement. “I do not condone violence but sometimes you have no choice and it sounds to me like she had very few other options. Her running away was a bad decision but she made it on a state of crisis and I think it’s understandable when you know everything in context.”

  “Mother, she hid it all from me—”

  “Did she explain why she did it?”

  “She told me that she couldn’t stay but wouldn’t tell me why in order to protect me.” Over and over she’d told him and he’d been too wrapped up in her and how she made him feel to really listen and back away before it was too late. He’d been way past the starting line when he realized this wasn’t a game for him anymore and he wanted her for more than a brief interlude.

  “You pursued her like everything you do, a mountain or a medal. The poor girl didn’t stand a chance.” His mother chuckled, looking fondly at the man sleeping in the bed. “You are like your father in that way. We were not a love match in the beginning and we didn’t get along for a while.”

  It was an old family tale of how his mother had arrived at the palace with a chaperone a month before the arranged marriage with a stranger. Their clash of wills was legendary and proved that passion is passion and can morph from hatred to love in the strangest ways.

  “Your grandmother was a hard woman and I was new to this place and he was too busy being the king to bother with his foreign wife. Every time we made progress toward some kind of relationship, we’d fight and take three steps backward. I found myself falling in love with him but I didn’t feel like I was more important or even as important as the kingdom.”

  “You left him and he pursued you back to Germany even though he needed to be here for the parliamentary elections.” Nick finished the story for her; this was his favorite part. “Lord Batton told him that he had to stay but Father left anyway and refused to return home without you. He said he couldn’t rule without his heart and you’d taken it with you.”

  “You know this one so well you could tell it.” She laughed and settled back against the chair, her memories making her eyes light up from within. His parents had been a love match in the end, the kind that got you through the times when you didn’t know who you were anymore.

  Oh fuck. He didn’t know where his mother was going with this… Okay he absolutely did…but he didn’t know if he could take it right now.

  “Mother, I cannot go after Isabel. She’s going to prison for a few years. She fled the country under a fake passport after she tried to kill her ex-husband.”

  “You stood up to all of us, including me, when you knew that you wanted this woman, a chance with this woman. You stood up for the refugees because it was the right thing to do.”

  “I’m trying to be the king father and Alec were,” he said, his confusion over the turn in this conversation mounting.

  “They were king the way they knew to be because they followed their conscience. I’d forgotten that part and I’m sorry. That’s all you were trying to do and in the end I think it’s always the best choice.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry for not allowing you to be yourself. You’ll be a wonderful king—in your own unique way.”

  His head was buzzing and he wasn’t sure if he heard her correctly. “Are you telling me to go get Isabel?”

  “Do you want her? I think that is the most important question.”

  He thought over her question and all of the ramifications of his answer. This was not just about him and Isabel. Or was it?

  “Wanting her is as natural as breathing,” he said, laying it all out there on the line. He looked at his mom, feeling like he was ten years old again. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “And you want me to tell you what to do?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I really do.”

  “I am telling you to follow your own heart. Be the king and the man you want to be with the woman of your choice. If that is Isabel, then you need to do whatever you can to help her.

  There are so many opinions out there right now and you were very wise to retain your own counsel and to find your own path to the right decision. The people will follow a man of conviction and the politicians will get out of the way or get along.” She leaned forward and grabbed his face in her hands. “Just know this: whatever you do, I will be beside you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Can we please come to order?”

  Lord Marcus, the parliamentary chair, hit the podium with his gavel, bringing the din of voices to an almost abrupt halt, with a few stragglers quickly finishing thei
r conversations as they eased into their designated spots. The room was large, majestic, and formal, decorated as you would expect the governmental seat of a principality to be.

  The cameras from the media were trained on them all, ready to catch every minute of what happened here and send it out into the world within minutes. He had no doubt that many of his people had their eyes glued to the TV.

  Nick sat in the chair designated for the monarch, clad in a black suit with his regimental sash worn in a slash over his body. On it was the family crest, his ranks and designations as the crown prince decorating the lush red velvet. It was heavy and the weight kept him grounded as his stomach churned and his feet itched to get outside and work off some of this tension.

  He had foregone all of his runs since Isabel had left a week ago and while a daily swim was a workout it wasn’t the physical activity his body was missing. He missed her. His chest was heavy with loneliness and on the rare occasion he slept, he woke gasping for air as if there were heavy weights placed on top of him.

  Stress. Anxiety. That is what any physician would call it but he knew better. He was dying inside without her, one shallow breath at a time. The question was whether he would risk it all to be with her, to finally catch his breath again.

  Lord Marcus spoke clearly from the podium, casting an apologetic look in Nick’s direction as he began. Nick did not envy him his position. Yes, they disagreed on some points of policy, but the man did not want to question the line of succession, did not want to question Nick’s ability to rule. But his job required him to answer the call of his members and when Rushing had drummed up the bare minimum to make the challenge, he had to move forward. It was up to Nick to save himself.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of parliament, today we call the question of whether Crown Prince Nicholas is fit to take the role of monarch in light of his recent involvement with a woman named Isabel Castillo.”

  The Duke of Rushing leaped to his feet, taking the floor as was customary. His glare in Nick’s direction was hot, angry, and just a little smug. He already thought he had it in the bag.

  “The crown prince aided and abetted the actions of a fugitive of the law, an attempted murderess. He had her installed on palace grounds, brought her inside the palace, all because he was sexually involved with the woman. His conduct is unbecoming of a future monarch but more importantly shows a lack of good judgment and respect, which speaks volumes about his fitness to rule.” The man took a breath and attempted a look of contrition but didn’t quite pull it off.

  “With all due respect to King William and the late King Alec, the son and brother is unworthy to wear the crown. Perhaps he has been too long from Callanos? Perhaps he had forgotten our proud history? We deserve better than a king who cannot put away the reckless behaviors of someone who succumbed to wanderlust and self indulgence for over a decade.” He banged on the table in front of him for unnecessary emphasis. “He must not take the crown!”

  The crowd in the room erupted into loud argument. Some were for and some were against and they shouted their positions over one another, barely taking time for breath in between their barbed taunts and ugly accusations.

  Nick watched for as long as he could, watched as his countrymen ripped themselves and this principality apart—over him. Over Isabel. There was only one way to end this before it went too far and it was up to him. If he was to be king, he needed to begin now.

  He stood and spoke into the microphone at his podium, his voice loud but firm and calm.

  “I will not give up the throne. I will not give up my place as your king for anyone. Ever.”

  The members of parliament quieted down, all turning to look at him, the tumult dying down as they realized he would not say more until they gave him their attention.

  “Let me repeat myself just in case it was missed. I will not give up my throne. I will not give up my right to be king for anyone. Ever.”

  He watched as they all gradually settled themselves in their seats. When he was sure he had their attention he continued, ignoring the dark looks from Rushing and his gang of friends.

  “You all know by now that I do not have my father or my brother’s gift for diplomacy. I say what I mean and I mean what I say. You can take me at my word. I do not play games. I am a man of honor in all things.” He paused to make eye contact with others of his opposition, holding the eye contact for a second longer than was polite but it made his point. “So, I need to make this clear up front so there will be no misunderstanding: I will not step down. If you want to remove me from the line of succession you will have to go through our formal procedures to do it.”

  A low rumble erupted in the room and he waited for it to finish, taking the time to nod at his mother and Chris who sat in the royal gallery. Neither one of them gave him an actual thumbs-up but their expressions said it all. He plowed ahead, ready to lay it all out there. His decision was made and now it was time to let his people know what they could expect from their monarch.

  “I did not know that Isabel Castillo was on the run from attempted murder charges in the United States. I didn’t even know her real name was Castillo until she was placed under arrest a week ago.” He swallowed hard, the image of Isabel led away in handcuffs, her face ashen and eyes wide with fear burning in his gut. “She did not tell me because she did not want me to be guilty of aiding and abetting, and I am grateful for her thoughtfulness. If you knew her then you’d understand that is the kind of person she is, always thinking of others. She is the reason I went to the refugee camp and was touched so deeply by their plight. She was already donating her day off to go and care for the displaced children, spending hours holding them, loving them, children who had no tie to her at all. Children who just needed someone to love them for a little while and make them feel safe. That is what Isabel Castillo did.

  “If you’ve read the accounts of her arrest, then you also know that Isabel is a survivor of domestic violence and when forced to defend herself against the man who beat her on many occasions, she did what she had to do. Her only real crime was to run and not trust the system but she was scared and alone.”

  He gripped the podium with his hands, lowering his voice and choosing his words carefully as he strived to reach out to the countless citizens of Callanos who were listening. If they wanted to know what kind of king they were getting, now was the time.

  “I have never been scared like that and I hope none of you have had to experience what she went through. I have stood at the starting line, faced down angry oceans and deadly mountains but I have never been afraid that someone who supposedly loved me would take my life. It took courage for her to leave him and it took courage for her to return to care for her sister. I could tell you that I fell in love with Isabel when I heard her story but that wouldn’t be accurate. I fell in love with her the first time she beat me on a morning run and smiled in victory as she left me in her wake. I will never forget that smile.”

  He cleared his throat, pushing down the emotion clogging his voice as he continued. The room was silent, so even his quieter tones were clear and true.

  “I am in love with Isabel Castillo, utterly and completely, and I will do whatever it takes to be with her. If you think that means I am unfit for the throne, then you should do what you are compelled to do. For me, my love for her does not lessen my ability to be a good king. I will follow my heart in this and all things for my immediate family and for my people. I will make every decision with one thought only: to do the very best thing for the people I love. And while I did travel the world, it never lessened my love for Callanos or its people. That is a fact.” He shifted behind the podium and took a few moments to meet as many of the members’ eyes as he could. When he was done, he looked directly at the camera. “I watched my parents rule side by side for many years and got to witness firsthand the strength they gave each other. If my father were able to speak today, I have no doubt that he would tell you that he would have been unable to rule without the love of my mother an
d I will tell you today that I don’t think that I will be able to rule to the best of my ability without Isabel by my side.”

  He stared out at the room, unable to think of anything else he needed to say. It was now in the hands of his people and he had more pressing business to address.

  “I am leaving for a couple days to go to the United States. Once there I intend to offer my support and my heart to Isabel Castillo. I ask for your prayers and your support as I make this journey. Thank you.”

  And in the midst of the silence, he left the podium and his future as king in the hands of fate. His own happiness he wouldn’t leave to chance. He was going to get Isabel and bring her home.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I wonder what is taking Mr. Russell so long,” Irene said as she paced the small conference room at the courthouse.

  Isabel watched her sister prowl around the room like it was feeding time in the big cat house at the zoo. She sighed but kept it inaudible, knowing that it would spark another disagreement with her sibling. Everything set Irene off these days: the suit Isabel chose to wear to court, the press mobbing them every time they walked out the door, and the fact that she’d chosen to take the deal.

  That was the number one topic to ignite a volcanic explosion that rivaled Vesuvius and she’d learned to just avoid it as much as possible. But Irene was gearing up for another round of “you are out of your fucking mind” and Isabel wasn’t in the mood.

  “I don’t think Mr. Russell has your best interests at heart, Isabel.”

  “Irene, he is realistic about my chances to win against the federal charges,” she said, trying to focus her sister on the most significant problem she had at the moment. “I’m facing years in a federal prison on the charge of flight to avoid prosecution alone. Taking a plea to a much lesser state crime reduces my jail time.”

  “You shouldn’t go to jail at all,” she practically wailed.

  “I don’t disagree but I don’t think it’s realistic.” Isabel reached and took her sister’s hand, and tugged her down into the chair next to her. “Sit and listen to me.” Her sister resisted and she pulled her down and grabbed both of her hands, holding her still until she looked into her eyes. “I did the wrong thing, big sis. I did it for the right reasons, or what I thought was the right reason at the time but there is a penalty for it and I have to pay it. I have to.”