Princess In Denim (27 page)

"Where was I? Oh, yes. Stage two will begin with— What the hell is that racket?"

All heads turned toward the door, where it was quite obvious that Moira, outside, wanted to get inside.

"Louis, sit down. We will continue."

But Louis did not sit down. He strode toward William, at the head of the table.

The door flew open and smacked back against the wall. Moira, hair flying and eyes sparking, pointed toward the center of the room and shouted, "There he is! Seize him!"

Oh, my, she has a head injury.

"Footman, send for the doctor."

Moira wheeled on the men-at-arms. "Seize Prince Louis at once, or I'll see you all in the torture chamber for a little fingernail-pulling party."

"Louis?" William asked in surprise. He was even more shocked when the young prince flew at him, and was spurred into motion when he glimpsed a blade of steel aimed at his chest.

A quick dodge on his part, followed by half a dozen men-at-arms tackling the prince, and William abandoned stage two for the moment.

"What is the charge, Your Majesty?" one of the cabinet members asked.

"Attempted assassination."

William looked down at Louis's face, difficult to see as it was pressed into the floor, then back at Moira. "You are certain?"

"Humphrey confessed."

"To whom?"

"To me. I've sent guards to his home to protect his family in case Louis has other accomplices."

William frowned. "Humphrey would tell me nothing."

Moira grinned. "So he said. But I have my ways."

"So I heard." For someone who was new to being royal, she had brought along a certain American sassiness that allowed her to adapt quite well. Maybe too well.

"What will you do with him?" he asked as Louis was dragged away.

"Exile him to a small, remote island somewhere." She addressed everyone in the room then. "Excuse the interruption, please. I know His Majesty would like to get back to whatever y'all were doing."

"I was going over the plans for merging our two countries.''

She nodded, as if in agreement.

He turned to his cabinet and drawled most effectively, "If
y'all
will excuse me, I'm fixin' to go consult with my new queen on a few matters before we continue. Say, tomorrow?"

There were grins and nods and barely disguised elbow-jabbing as William approached Moira and crooked his elbow and they left arm-in-arm.

"I thought you had everything worked out," she said. "I saw your spreadsheet, and I'm afraid I can't be of much help there."

He stroked the back of her hand with one fingertip. "We will not be going over any spreadsheets."

"Oh?"

"We will be going over...other business."

"Such as?"

"Well, for one, my chef has come up with some pastries he would like you to sample. I thought I would help."

"Strawberry?"

"I told him nothing else would do. I hope that is all right. And then..." He ran his finger over the sensitive spot where her index and middle finger joined.

"Then what?"

Over and over, he stroked, while he waited for her to get his point.

"William?" She looked up at him, and light dawned in her eyes. She smiled shyly. "Oh. I see. Well, I don't know. I'm not very good at this business stuff. We may have to go over it again and again."

"All day?"

"Absolutely."

"And all night?"

"Definitely."

"And you will believe me when I tell you I love you?"

"I already do."

He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. "Ah, Moira, you are one hell of a queen."

Epilogue

On a tiny, remote tropical island

Under darkness of night, Louis boarded a chartered jet.

"Where to?" the pilot asked.

"Just get up in the air, and then I'll tell you."

"Hey, look, buddy—"

"Do it!"

The pilot held up his hands to signify no further argument. "Sure. Calm down."

Louis didn't want anyone knowing until the last possible moment that he was headed for the United States. There, somewhere, was his real sister, the woman who had duped him out of his crown.

For that, she would pay.

THE END