Dana Marton - Saved by the Monarch

The prince and the future princess are getting to know each other. Courting.

The press would turn it into something mushily romantic, and nobody would guess the dire situation at the palace, news of which could not come out under any circumstances. With all the upheaval in the country, the supposed Freedom Council that worked to bring down the monarchy would capitalize on information like that, use it as proof that the people were fed up with the royals. The council would gain more power, and their power was even now almost too much to handle.

His mother was ill—she had to leave. His brothers, if they stayed, wouldn’t be able to help themselves, but would try to investigate and look for any excuse to perform some heroic deed. He could never hope to keep an eye on all of them. They were better off at Maltmore. But he should be able to keep a close eye on Judit. How hard could it be to keep track of one young woman? And the monarchy’s enemies didn’t know her yet anyway. She wasn’t a target.

“We’ll talk when I get there.” He hung up the phone, then addressed Lady Judit. “I’m sorry, but your official schedule will have to be changed.”

Under the circumstances, maybe it was best if she weren’t out there, prancing around the countryside. He’d see to it that she would be kept busy at the royal palace, while guarded heavily. They might even spend more time together than originally planned. He found that he didn’t altogether mind that prospect.

“I don’t have an official schedule.” She glared at him.

The chancellor drew up his shoulders and shook his head, nonplussed. He seemed completely out of sorts and taking this mix-up badly. He probably felt responsible.

“If we were engaged all this time like you say, how come you never contacted me? If I hadn’t decided to come here, would you have just forgotten about it and let it all go?” Judit asked.

“I’ve been busy. I’ve been patient, trying to give you the time you needed.” And relieved that she’d stayed away, to be truthful. He had a full life, a career in the army, a pretty busy schedule. It’d always seemed that they would have plenty of time yet. Which led the chancellor to his ultimatum. Might as well tell her some of that.

“If I hadn’t made arrangements before my fortieth birthday—” he felt a moment of embarrassment “—you would have received an official contact from the royal family that requested your presence here. Chancellor Hansen would have organized the confirmation of our engagement.”

“When is your fortieth birthday?” she inquired.

“At the end of summer.”

“Procrastinate much?” She actually looked amused for a second.

His turn to glare at her.

“I think you want this as little as I do,” she observed.

“I want to do my duty.” That was all he ever wanted. Whatever it took to help the country and the monarchy. When one was a prince, personal feelings did not figure into the equation.

“I don’t want anyone to marry me out of duty,” she snapped, as if offended. But then she added on a softer voice, that suited her much better, “Can you understand that?”

“Lady Arynak mentioned none of this to you?” Miklos asked.

NOT REALLY. JUDI SAT ramrod straight on the leather seat, not allowing her shoulders to slump. Don’t let them see you scared.

The limousine felt smaller than a Mini Cooper. The prince had what could be called an imposing presence, his intense energy filling the space and then some. Grainy pictures in tabloids were one thing. Sitting face-to-face with all that charisma was vastly different, heaven help her.

She wondered for a second if anyone had ever naysayed him. That probably didn’t happen too often. A man like him wouldn’t be used to resistance from women.

“My aunt is a sweet old lady.” She sounded defensive even to her own ears, but couldn’t help it. She loved Aunt Viola. Who was sweet. Too sweet, even. She had a tendency to say whatever anyone wanted to hear. But, hello, that was exactly why she was so very likable and had a gazillion friends.

“She did bring up from time to time that I should visit Valtria.” But Judi had always put it off, focusing on her studies at first, then on her career. And her aunt had mentioned marriage, urged her more and more often lately to consider that it might be time to start thinking along those lines, but Judi had been reluctant.

Not that she was commitment-phobic, although she’d been accused of just that by more than one ex-boyfriend. But it did seem that everyone she’d ever truly loved always ended up dying. Her mother when Judi had been three, her father when she’d been five, her stepmother when she’d been ten.

Maybe she was scared to fully fall in love and commit to a man. And her aunt hadn’t pushed or played matchmakers like older family members or some of her friends. She just wasn’t the pushy kind, which Judi very much appreciated. Having someone like Aunt Viola by her side was wonderful when life was filled with one harsh reality after another.

Like the fact that her parents had sold her out to some prince when she’d been a toddler!

He seemed annoyed but held it in check and remained studiously polite, a man who fully knew the meaning of aristocratic restraint. Which she appreciated. He was overwhelming enough as it was.

“Look, we’re both adults. We should be able to figure something out.” There had to be something she could say to make him see how absolutely crazy this all was.

He watched her as if trying to see inside her. “The country needs our alliance,” he stated simply.

His very presence demanded that she curtsy and say Yes, Your Highness. But in addition to her Valtrian heritage, she also had her indomitable American stepmother’s spirit in her. She called on that.

“That’s not up for negotiation.” She did her best to remain calm and match his cool demeanor.

Her father had been a high-profile political figure, then her stepmother after him. They’d both been dragged through the mud. If there was one thing she’d known for sure at an early age, it was that she would never become a public figure when she grew up.

“If I can make the sacrifice, why is it that you cannot?” His masculine, sensuous lips flattened. “A true daughter of Lord Marezzi would never refuse her duty.”

I would and I will—just watch me, Buster, she wanted to say but had a feeling that she would get better results by remaining civil and rational. She needed time. Delay. “I believe we really need to talk about this. I’m going to need time here. And a lot of questions need to be answered.”

He watched her darkly for a long moment. “Agreed.”

So he was willing to negotiate. It saved her from having to jump from a moving car and run for the hills. She felt a small sense of relief, the first since she’d gotten off the plane.

“You will consider the situation?” His face remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed that he wasn’t too happy with her.

Not that she was all that thrilled with him, either. “Yes.” The situation she would consider. Marriage to him, she would not.

Even if he wasn’t that bad to look at: raven-wing black hair and dark slate eyes, a straight, aristocratic nose and a powerfully built soldier’s body. Which, really, she should have been too angry to notice. It annoyed her to no end that she had. So he was handsome. So who cared?

He was archaic.

An arranged marriage. In this day and age? Who was he kidding?

Maybe he was crazy. Not a raving lunatic, but slightly off. Madness ran in the royal bloodlines of several European countries; she remembered that from history class. Just her luck. A whole, perfectly fine country, and the first person she ran into was their off-his-rocker prince.

They slowed for a sharp turn. She opened her mouth to talk some reason into the two men, but what happened next froze her. She watched the scene unfold, her body immobile from the terror she felt.

Two cars plowed through traffic and pulled to a screeching halt next to their motorcade. Two men got out. One pointed a grenade launcher at the limo behind them that was supposed to carry her entourage but was empty instead, save for the driver. The guy blew it to pieces.

Just blew it up without warning.

Fire shot to the sky.

Car parts rained to the pavement.

She might have screamed. She couldn’t hear her own voice, deafened by the explosion.

The guy pointed the grenade launcher at their car next.

If she’d had command of her limbs, she would have been hiding under the seats by now.

The prince opened the door and got out with murder on his face to confront the armed men. He stood tall and straight, focused on the attackers. “This is not necessary. I will come of my own will and listen to your demands.” His voice was clipped, betraying the restraint it took for him to just stand there.

He let himself be disarmed, but with enough tension radiating from him that she thought his control might break at any second and he would attack. She felt disconnected from the whole scene as if she were watching it on a movie screen. Her mind was numb with shock.

“No further violence is necessary.” His voice was tempered steel.

And for a moment, she wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince the attackers or himself.

“I’ll go with you. We leave them here,” he stated.

“Everyone’s coming.” One guy kept his gun trained on the prince while another reached in and yanked Judi from the safety of the limo.

Faced with a grenade launcher, she didn’t have it in her to resist. She went like a rag doll.

The chancellor scampered to the far end of the expansive seat and wedged himself in. They would have needed a crane to move the man. The attacker pointed the grenade launcher at him.

She caught the prince shift on his feet and get ready to make his move, so she prepared to duck, knowing all hell would break loose in a second. But then, unexpectedly, the ceremonial army guard opened fire. Bullets pinged off the pavement and the cars.

The kidnappers gave up on the chancellor, and Judi was unceremoniously shoved into the back of a van, along with His Highness. Then the van took off, the attackers returning fire, swerving all over the road so badly that she banged against the van’s side.

She grabbed on to the one thing available for leverage—the prince. She could feel the flexing of an impressive amount of muscle under his military jacket, but there was no time to appreciate that now. The van swerved as bullets exploded all around it.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

She’d been wrong, she thought. The prince wasn’t the only nut in the place. The whole country was insane.

She so should not have come here. She yelped as the gunfire intensified. She could see little in the dim van, the prince’s wide chest pretty much filling her field of vision. She prayed that the bullets wouldn’t break through the back door and hit them. She hung on even tighter as he put an arm around her and braced them with his feet to stop from bouncing. He held them both safe by sheer strength and will.

She was not impressed. All she could think of was that she should have gone with her first idea and celebrated her twenty-ninth birthday in Puerto Vallarta instead.

HIS HANDS WERE TIED behind his back and he was blindfolded, but his feet were free, so Miklos walked his prison to get a sense of it. When he bumped into something, he turned around to feel it. A chair. Which he catalogued as a possible makeshift weapon before he moved on.