Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1 (10 page)

“Kristos!” Her escort’s surprise was plain as Kristos hopped down. “You are
not
supposed to be here. You were to command the trucks, nothing further.”

Kristos, for his part, merely shrugged. “You haven’t been watching the news, Stefan. The girls’ identities are being shot around the world; we have reports of flights being booked into the city from all parts of the globe, probably more media people. Cyril advises that it’s going to get worse before it gets better, at least for the next few days. It’s time for a new strategy.”

Stefan shook his head, peering into the back of the truck. “You can’t tell me Jasen has approved this.”

“He has no idea.” Em watched as Kristos strode forward, gripping Stefan’s arm in a way that seemed almost ceremonial. “Take care of her friends. Keep them safe and out of sight, and we’ll let all this die down. I had no idea how much damage I could cause in the first few hours of taking on my official duties, and it needs to stop.”

Em peered into the back of the truck. As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she could see what had set off Stefan. A motorcycle. She snapped her gaze back to the two men. “We’re not going to the palace, are we?”

Kristos looked at her, and something odd chased over his face, something fierce and proud and—possessive. Then it was gone, and his expression became warm. Almost comforting. “Not at first,” he said. “We’ll be besieged with media, tourists, even the public of Garronia if they think I’ve somehow chosen you for my bride. It’s a headache we don’t need. Let the story die, the media disperse, then we’ll return.”

“How long will that take?”

Stefan pressed his finger to his earpiece. “The crowd is starting to shift. We need to move.”

“Then by all means.” Kristos turned and waved Em into the back of the truck. “Ladies first.”

“This is safe?” she asked, but her words were directed at Stefan, who stared at them both with exasperation.

“Not even remotely,” he said.

Em thought about it for another second, but Kristos’s eyes were steady on hers. She was the one who
always
played it safe, after all. Made lists. Double-checked. This was all completely off the rails.

And yet somehow, deeply right.

“We should probably get going, then,” she said.

Kristos felt Emmaline trembling beside him in the dark, but he couldn’t deny his own surge of excitement. The plan was a simple one. Three trucks would leave from the loading bays of the hotel in quick succession after the limo, along with cars streaming out of the hotel that had been delayed by the management-imposed garage lockdown. Emmaline could arguably be in any of those vehicles, and most probably the limo, so everyone would disperse and they’d continue to the outskirts of the city. And then the fruit truck he’d chosen would slow enough to let them out the back.

The plan also met his primary need: get out of town with a beautiful woman. Check and check. Fortunately, Emmaline was dressed in a tank top, khakis, and tennis shoes. She’d handle the ride easily, even if it was longer than she expected.

They exited the hotel, Emmaline stiffening as the sound of many hands pounded along the sides. “What are they doing?” she whispered.

“Showing us that they expected this maneuver. But they can’t be certain, right? Not with so many vehicles leaving at once. It’s the perfect shell game.” He quirked her a glance, peering through the darkness. “You good?” He turned toward her, but as he did, she straightened.

“I’m good,” she said, her voice sounding stronger than he would have given her credit for.

And even thinking that gave him pause. How much did he really know about Emmaline Andrews? He hadn’t taken the time to get the download of information from the Crown’s security check, and, despite his words to his father, he knew that was a precaution that was wise to take. What if he was harboring an escaped convict?

His lips quirked up at the idea. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“One thing, though.” Emmaline glanced at him in the gloom. “Wherever we’re heading, I will need to make some calls. Will that be possible?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, satisfaction rippling through him. “Where we’re heading, you’ll be able to do whatever you want.”

She didn’t respond to that, and Kristos turned his attention to the feel of her hand in his, the warmth of her body next to him. And more too. The rumble of the truck wheels on the asphalt. The sound of traffic rushing around them, of city noise gradually diminishing to a low, distant rumble. The truck slowed at last, and he gestured to the motorcycle strapped to the inside wall of the truck. “You’ve ridden before?”

Emmaline nodded tightly when he offered her his helmet. “Where’s yours?”

“I couldn’t explain my plan to my parents, so a second helmet would have been suspicious. They’ll find out soon enough from Stefan, if they haven’t already.”

Any additional conversation was halted as the truck slowed, then turned sharply. “That’s our cue.” He moved toward the unlatched door and hauled it open, blinking against the bright light. A few paces took him back to the bike, and Emmaline slid onto the seat behind him.

“Um, I haven’t exactly ridden a lot.”

“Put your feet on the spokes. We won’t be on the road long.”

“How long is long?” She sounded dubious, but she gripped his waist easily enough. “And how hard is it going to hurt when we land without a ramp?”

Kristos smiled, remembering her own words earlier that day. Had it really been just this morning that he’d seen this woman for the first time? “It’ll be an adventure.”

They shot out the back of the truck and hit the dirt lot, and even Emmaline’s bitten-out curse made him happy. She yelped and grabbed him more tightly, her head pressed against the back of his jacket. This far away from the city—traveling in the opposite direction of the castle—no one was still following the truck. They’d made it out. He felt marginally bad about leaving Stefan to clean up his mess with his parents, especially his mother, who had images of fancy dresses and balls dancing in her head, he was sure. But then he felt the warmth and excitement of Emmaline against him, and couldn’t bring himself to care very much about anything else at all.

The trip to the chateau was a winding one. The place itself was private, yes, and fortunately not one of the family residences but the home of a friend who could be counted on to lend it for royal business. Still, Kristos had to time his arrival carefully—quickly enough that he would draw no attention, but in a roundabout way so that his final destination wasn’t immediately identified, if anyone should be tracking his motorbike.

Emmaline didn’t once complain and finally straightened on her seat, daring to look out over the lush forests that lined the roadway. An hour into the journey, however, she tapped him on the shoulder. She leaned forward as he turned toward her.

“Any chance we’re going to be stopping soon? I’m going to need a break, um, soon.”

Kristos nodded and gunned the engine.
He didn’t want to stop before they reached the chateau, but he also didn’t want Emmaline to spontaneously combust behind him. So the answer was simply
more speed
.

Thirty minutes later, they turned off the main road. He wasn’t sure if Emmaline’s sigh was in reaction to the imminent shot at a bathroom or relief that they’d made it through the last twenty miles alive. She hadn’t even screamed after the second or third turn, and it had been all Kristos could do not to push the bike harder, just to get a reaction out of her.

Fortunately, this far from the capital city, no one seemed tuned to the entertainment channels. They cruised past the gatehouse without incident, the guard familiar with his face. Another bonus of not wearing a helmet. When they finally glided up to the entrance of the chateau, however, Emmaline let out a small gasp of appreciation.

Kristos stopped the bike. “Easy off, watch the sides. The pipes will be hot.”

“What
is
this place?” Emmaline dismounted a little shakily, but a second later, he was there, his hand on her shoulder, to steady her. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her, he realized, especially here, where there was no one around to see. And now, with an entire chateau at their disposal…

“The home of a friend, who’s currently summering in New Zealand.” At her startled glance, he shrugged. “He wanted to go skiing.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Emmaline pulled the helmet from her head and held it out to Kristos, her gaze still on the house. It soared above them, traditional Greek architecture matched with timber-and-glass construction to make the most of the expansive views. His friend Theo had spared no expense in creating this idyll in the forest, and Kristos had spent many weekends here on leave, reveling in the beauty of Garronia that lay beyond its coasts.

Now he reached for Emmaline’s hand, and she let him tug her along for several steps before seeming to remember herself. “Kristos, I don’t have any more clothes. How long are we going to be here?”

“A few days, maybe—less if the story dies down quickly.” He amended his statement on the fly, seeing the alarm flash across her face. “And I called ahead and alerted them about our arrival. They had enough time to get to the local town for some changes of clothes for both of us.”

“Of course they did.” But she said nothing further, allowing him to draw her up the stairs to the chateau. They were greeted at the door by Theo’s housekeeper and butler, to whom Kristos spoke in the rapid language of the countryside, his fingers entwined with Emmaline’s, who was looking more and more like she wanted to bolt. He squeezed her hand reassuringly when he was through. “First, you should call your…parents, yes? Siblings?”

Boyfriend?
He wondered silently, but Emmaline nodded, her confusion dissipating. “Yes, my parents. What time is it in the US?”

“About nine a.m.” After she’d decamped to a small guest bathroom, he led her to a small room that served as Theo’s guest office. It was outfitted with an arsenal of phones, computers, and tablets, enough to satisfy his most workaholic of guests. It had been Ari who had demanded a suitable office for him in Theo’s home, if they’d wanted to lure him away from his princely duties. Ari, who hadn’t so much as breathed a hint of his responsibilities to Kristos in the few times they were able to meet here with Kristos on leave. He’d never really given much thought to what his brother did with all those long nights of his. And now he would never know.

He gave Emmaline the codes to dial out of the house and withdrew to the windows, unable to stand so far away as to give her complete privacy. He wanted to know everything about this woman, and he didn’t want to turn on the TV to do it. He winced with the thought of her private life unearthed, all due to him, and yet—if he’d had the chance to do it over, he wouldn’t have changed anything. It was selfish, but it was true.

Without Emmaline in his life, he’d likely be stuck in an hours-long meeting with his advisors right now, ass-deep in discussions about how he needed to play to the media, hiding his anger, ignoring their insufferable questions about his brother, his family. The men he’d lost in combat. The choices he’d made. Choices he’d suffered for. And if that wasn’t enough, the conversation would almost certainly be capped off with a gathering of all the likely suspects who might become a suitable wife. That wouldn’t work for anyone.

No, better that he was here, with a mystery woman and a few days left of breathing room. Because unless he was misreading the way Emmaline looked at him when she thought he wasn’t watching, it wouldn’t be an escape without its compensations.

Chapter 7

“I know—yes, of course, I’ll call soon. You might want to keep the television off for a few days. Or be ready for the neighbors to look at you funny, if any of them are into celebrity TV.” Emmaline wrapped up her phone conversation with her father, who didn’t really seem to be paying much attention. Then again, that wasn’t really a surprise. Her mother had had an off day, and whenever that happened, her father seemed to sink a little deeper into his own shame, blaming himself for the distraction that had caused him not to see the oncoming truck that had caused their accident, and blaming himself even more for not being the one who’d suffered a brain injury.

How had she ever justified taking a vacation to Europe in the middle of their recovery? Yes, it had been over a year without so much as a day off, but still. She should have known better, no matter what Fran insisted. Her place was back with her parents, not lolling in some princely chateau in the middle of a country few people had even heard of.

She’d said as much to her father, of course, but to his credit, he hadn’t piled on. He seemed distracted, yes, but not as angry as she’d expected. Still, Emmaline couldn’t help the guilt that draped her as she spoke at length with the nurse, going over her parents’ medications, their upcoming doctor visits, the small wins of the past few days. She’d learned to celebrate every victory, no matter how tiny. It was all she could think of to get through each day.

She completed the call at last and turned again to Kristos. He stood looking out the window to the vast forest beyond. Apparently noticing her attention, he gestured to the vista. “Garronia’s border is another hour to the north, and twice that to the east and west. We are not much bigger than your state of Rhode Island, though our roads are a bit less direct. Still, we should be safe here.” He glanced at her. “You’ve texted your friends, I see, not called?”