The King Takes A Bride (Royals Book 4) (15 page)

Sander's gaze dropped from her face to the loose sweater in ivory, the dark brown pants and knee high boots. “It's a good choice for where we're going. You'll need a coat, though.”

“All right.” She pivoted for the closet to retrieve a suitable jacket.

“You sure you're all right?” he asked.

Chey paused in the archway, one hand on the wall. She smiled in hopes that would reassure him somewhat. “Yes. After earlier, how can I not be?”

Possessiveness and heat flickered in his gaze.

Chey chose that moment to disappear around the corner and go into the closet. Picking out a dark brown suede jacket, she slid her arms through the sleeves and returned to the chamber.

Sander, done with his drink, set the glass aside. He had his phone to his ear. Pulling it away, he said, “They're ready downstairs.”

“How many people?” she asked as they headed to the doors.

“Eight or ten or something, I think. They arrived a couple hours ago and have been settling in.” He escorted her into the hall and toward the staircase leading to the main floor.

In periphery, Chey saw Sander glance at her several times. She knew he still thought there was something left unsaid. How right he was. Maybe she should just blurt it out. Get it over with. He was used to getting blindsided by all kinds of information at all times of the day. Distracted with thoughts of how to phrase things, she didn't immediately come to a halt when Sander did.

Two steps later, when he reeled her extended arm back toward him, she glanced first to his face, then down at the foyer.

The group of guests loitered there, waiting, their security members hovering at the fringe. Chey noted two men wearing the head cloths,
ghutra
she'd been informed by Urmas, as well as a third who needed no introduction.

Bashir, hands behind his back, conversed with the two men while seven other guests clustered together closer to the door, talking to Mattias, Gunnar and Krislin.

Sander muttered something incoherent but vehement under his breath.

Before Chey could ask what was going on, he continued with her down the stairs.

“Your Excellency,” Sander said when they arrived. There wasn't a hint of Sander's annoyance in his eyes, his voice or his expression.

A round of introductions commenced, including all the guests. Chey repeated several challenging names to herself in silence so she might remember later.

“Ah, your Majesty. I was just telling my companions here how
much
I have enjoyed my visit, and that I look forward to taking the trip to Pallan island with you all.” Bashir's mustache and goatee parted around a smile.

Chey checked a gasp, swallowing it down. He was supposed to be gone, not inviting himself on island trips.

“I'm sure you have. Shall we get going?” Sander gestured to the door where a line of limousines waited to ferry the group to the docks.

“Absolutely. Will Princess Natalia and Prince Paavo be joining us?” he asked, dark gaze gleaming.

“Princess Natalia has another official obligation, I'm afraid. Prince Paa--”

“Prince Paavo is here and anxious to be off to the island.” Paavo took over in Sander's stead, striding into the foyer from another room. He cut Sander a look, then smiled and greeted the guests with handshakes.

Soon after, the line of cars bearing royalty and other elite of the world departed the family seat for the shore. Ensconced in the back with Sander, Mattias, Gunnar and Krislin, Chey glanced between brothers.

Paavo had accepted an invitation to ride with the Crown Prince and his two companions. The rest followed in yet another car. Several SUVs loaded with security led and trailed.

“He never planned to leave,” Mattias said. Knees parted, he draped his hands between his thighs and shared a look with Sander.

One of those looks Chey could never quite decipher. She remained silent for now to see what was on the men's minds.

“No. That was all a bunch of cock-and-bull about readying his aircraft and a flight schedule. He
could
have made it work if he'd wanted to. He was aware they were coming and stalled because he knew I wouldn't pursue his departure with them present,” Sander said.

“If he knows Natalia isn't going to marry him, then why stay?” Gunnar asked.

“Probably to give his advisers and negotiators more time to try and wear us down about terms. What his people asked for in Natalia's stead was so outrageous,
no
King from any country would have agreed. He knew that, too. Just one more strong arm tactic of many,” Sander replied. “I was willing to negotiate
some
of the resource terms. Not any more. He won't get anything from me.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if Paavo contacted Bashir and encouraged him to hold a few days. He didn't even act interested in riding with us, which suggests to me that he thought to ride with them all along.” Mattias looked away out the window as the dark landscape sped by. Waves crashed on the shore not far from the road they drove, adding a distant roar to back the conversation.

“Which begs the question.
Why
would Paavo even be interested?” Sander asked.

Mattias put Sander back in his sights. “Gaining sympathy, feeling around for allies, discussing their thoughts on his plan to break our country into regions?”

With a dark look, Sander said, “If he values the things he holds dear, he better not even consider it.”

. . .

The tour of Pallan island included five different stops. A new set of elegant limousines paraded the guests past the docks, through the small village nestled at the base of the mountain, and along a road that hugged the shore with unmatched beauty. They went halfway up the mountain itself to a ski lodge where the guests partook of three thousand dollar snifters of cognac—except Bashir and his companions, who chose warm cinnamon cider—in a large reception lounge with a roaring fire and pine beams on the ceiling as thick as a man's thigh.

Even Chey had not seen some of these sights.

Moonlight gleamed white-blue off snow that blanketed the landscape, painting a surreal picture beyond the windows. The cold evening outside was a stark contrast to the blazing warmth inside, the scent of wood and apple spice and platters of appetizers permeating the air. Chey picked at the food, distracted by the jockeying of men as the conversations strayed from polite, politically correct topics toward ones that had the potential to ignite and catch fire.

Sander kept her at his side most of the time, occasionally moving away to one group or another while she entertained the wife of a Russian billionaire who wanted to discuss all the latest Parisian fashions. Woefully inept at high fashion of any kind, Chey lost the woman's interest and not long after, the guest wandered away for something else to drink. Krislin, unaware of the woman's intent, became the Russian's next target. Chey knew Krislin, who'd grown up in these circles, would keep the lady engaged.

Chey glanced after Sander, finding him standing with his back to her in Bashir's circle of friends. An obviously intense debate was underway—Chey could guess what that was about—and she decided to take her glass of water to one of the chairs near the fireplace. On her way, she saw Paavo part off from Mattias and Gunnar near the buffet tables and exit through a door into a hall that probably led to restrooms and elevators or stairs to the rooms above.

Acting on impulse, she set the glass on a table and followed. He looked most like Mattias with the same black hair, build and facial features. All except his eyes, which were a striking green whereas Mattias's were the color of coffee.

He didn't see her until he already had his phone to his ear. Pausing, dark brows arched high, he spoke low to whoever was on the other end. “I'll have to call you back. Do you usually follow men into private areas, Miss Sinclair?” he said after tucking his phone into his pocket.

Chey closed the distance with unhurried steps. “Do you usually set your future sister-in-laws up on rogue interviews that were planned to go south?”

Paavo's expression changed to one of open surprise. “Pardon me?”

“It had to be you. There wasn't anyone else who could have set that up, no one with the right motivation.” Chey halted some feet from him. Dressed in a sharp outfit of jeans, expensive looking silk shirt in burgundy and a blazer unbuttoned along the front, Paavo exuded confidence and power, though not nearly in the realm of Mattias or Sander. He reminded Chey of a watered down version of both men, trying hard to be more than he was. Perhaps it was because she didn't know him as well as the other two.

“I'm afraid you've pegged the wrong person for your...misfortune. What interview, exactly?” He cocked his head, as if curious. As if he had no idea what she was talking about.

“I don't think so. And you know exactly what interview I mean,” she said, struggling to contain her irritation.

“Miss Sinclair, I've been at my holding for several days—you knew this, yes? What makes you think I had anything to do with this mysterious interview? Or are you looking to lay blame for a poor job, one that might taint your angelic image on television?”

“That's precisely what I think it's going to be used for. Or blackmail, one of the two. I'm not new to the games you and your family play, Paavo. You want to divide the country into regions, why not have tapes at hand should you press forward with your agenda?” she said.

He laughed, flashing a straight line of teeth. “You give yourself too much credit, little Miss. Yes, you'll become Queen, but I hardly think a tape—unless it's you in a compromising position with some other man—will cause a blip on the Latvala radar. Any stutters or stammers or something of that nature will be overlooked and promptly forgotten.” He waved a dismissive hand.

Chey wondered if she'd pegged this all wrong. Could Paavo really have nothing to do with it? He
did
seem clueless over the content of the tape and too offhand about her impact on the population in general. Self doubt set in for the first time.

“Tell you what. I'll ask around, all right? See what I can find out. If I manage to get my hands on this tape, where ever it is, I'll slip it into an envelope and have it delivered for your eyes only. All right?” He stepped closer, set a hand on the round of her shoulder, staring into her eyes.

Unsure what to make of his offer, still suspicious and thrown off guard, Chey frowned.

Paavo's attention darted toward the double doors. His hand fell away and he straightened, chin lifting an inch in the air.

Chey followed his gaze to see what had caused his shift in demeanor. Sander stood half in and half out of the hall, face an unreadable mask. Fixated on Paavo, he stared until Paavo cleared his throat and retreated, making his way back into the main lounge of the lodge.

This really wasn't the time or the place Chey wanted to tell Sander about the interview. Not with the guests in the next room. She preferred a calmer, less volatile environment for that kind of news.

“It's almost time to head back to the docks,” he said, holding the door.

“Thanks. I'll explain what that was about when we get back to the castle.” Chey approached, relieved when he dipped his hand to the small of her spine to guide her toward the others. If he had questions about what she and Paavo had been discussing, he didn't ask.

After the brothers and guests loaded into their limousines, the exodus from the mountain began.

The silence between Sander, Mattias and Gunnar only lasted as long as it took the limo to turn onto the winding road leading away from the ski lodge. With the headlights illuminating the dark asphalt, making snow on the sides glisten wetly, Mattias said, “I couldn't tell if Paavo tried to push his agenda with them or not.”

“Bashir and his acquaintances talked a lot about the contract, but not the regions,” Gunnar added. “Even when I tried to take a circuitous route into the subject, they kept reverting to the resources and unkept promises. They're like broken records.”

“Natalia only came up six times,” Sander said with a wealth of dry sarcasm. “Not in front of his friends, though. Only when he cornered me alone. He still believes one of us is going to change our minds. I think he feels safe pressing me with others around because he knows I won't make a scene.”

“I'm convinced he's fixed on the idea that it will give him an edge over several of his brothers, some of whom have challenged him for their father's title,” Mattias said.

Tucked into the crook of Sander's arm, Chey listened to the discussion, preferring to absorb the details without asking questions.

“Yes. He is a determined man about that. I also got the idea from his acquaintances that he's not been talking up the dividends from the resources so much as what power he believes it gives him in Latvala. Like it's a foot in the door,” Sander added.

“If he got Natalia to become his third wife, maybe he thinks he can expand on the contract,” Mattias said. “More resources, land in critical areas, that kind of thing.”

“How long are you going to let him keep on about it until you kick him out of the country?” Gunnar asked.

“I already did that once. Now his friends are here and they've made it plain that they expect Bashir to remain until the wedding.” Sander exhaled and tapped his fingers on the back of the seat behind Chey's shoulders. “If I make him go, he'll tell his companions and it'll probably cause an issue. They'll want to know
why
Bashir has to leave when he so clearly wants to stay.”

“So you have no choice, now?” Gunnar frowned.

“I always have choices little brother. Is it worth the headache of forcing Bashir out, or is it something to be tolerated until the wedding is over? Probably the latter. Less chance of someone leaking the situation to the media, which I'd like to avoid this close to the ceremony,” Sander said. “We've already got our hands full after Paavo's stunt.”

The subject of things being leaked to the media caused Chey to twitch a little. It hit too close to home with the interview. She saw Sander glance down at her from the corner of her eye and pretended to have a slight chill, even though she had her coat on. These minor subterfuges didn't sit well with her, but she didn't want to bring up Charlene and her suspicions before she had a chance to tell Sander when they were totally alone.