Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1 (15 page)

“Ouch.”

Kristos lifted his head then, the moonlight catching his face, his eyes, his wide and triumphant smile. He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her thoroughly once more, then bounded out of the bed, moving across the tiles in long strides toward the bathroom. As she heard the water splashing in the sink, Em dragged herself up to her feet, wrapping herself in the rich cotton sheets and half crawling, half tumbling back onto the bed. She was suddenly and quite unexpectedly…exhausted. Stretching luxuriously in the bed, she listened to the running water. Her gaze caught the curtains fluttering in the breeze, and she heard the sounds of nighttime beyond the window pane. She felt the lull of sleep calling her as the bed dipped and the presence of warm, vital man surrounded her once more.

“I have already worn you out.” Even Kristos’s voice was soothing, nudging her toward dreamland as he fit himself against her body, his long fingers smoothing the hair out of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Em managed, and his laughter rumbled over her.

“Do not apologize to me because I am too much man for you to handle. It happens.”

And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Em drifted off to sleep with the sound of her own laughter in her ears.

Kristos stared down at Emmaline, more content than he knew he had any right to be. He was used to sleeping whenever he could. But tonight, he was far happier to watch this beautiful and ridiculously neurotic woman relax into the bliss of slumber, her brow no longer furrowed in its slight frown, her eyes no longer watchful or concerned.

She really was lovely, though not in a way he would typically have noticed beyond a second or third glance. Without the flush of embarrassment darkening her cheeks, she looked almost like one of the porcelain figurines his mother kept bringing back from her travels, with pale cheeks and shoulder-length dark hair, her lashes a dusky fringe against her skin. He couldn’t see her soft brown eyes now, but he’d already lost himself in them enough to never forget them. A musician who had set aside her music to care for her parents, completely willing and ready to sacrifice for the greater good of her family.

His lips twisted. If he didn’t know better, he would think his mother had somehow maneuvered their run-in deliberately, to give Kristos a taste of how a child should properly embrace his or her filial duty.

But Emmaline hadn’t completely defected to the good side. He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, the pressure of his mouth teasing a smile from her lips that he was certain she didn’t think he was observing. Much as he knew that she’d had no idea that he’d tuned in to the video screens downstairs not only to get the tide of the day’s news and to fire up his own e-mail, but to survey the grounds as well.

He’d watched Dimitri weave in and out of the shadows for only a moment before the movement in the upper-floor hallway had caught his gaze. He’d watched, transfixed, as Emmaline had paused before her own room, then had looked curiously toward his. She’d seemed to have an argument with herself, and then, with a quick glance over her shoulder, she’d stepped to his door and ventured inside his room, not even closing the door fully behind her. It was how he’d been able to sneak up on her without her hearing him—that and the fact that he’d kicked off his loafers in the hallway.

What had prompted her to sneak into his room? It wasn’t like she had to pick a lock—nothing in this chateau was locked, as far as he knew. But she’d clearly been seeking
something
here. And that something hadn’t been him, since he’d been downstairs. She’d been surprised when he’d come upon her so quickly, but he could tell immediately that she’d also been lost in one of her daydreams. Being pulled out of her own imagination was probably a very commonplace feeling for her.

Still, Emmaline’s response to him had been clear enough. She’d wanted to be with him. And he’d been happy to oblige. He looked out the large bedroom windows and couldn’t see anything but the inky shadows of the forest far beyond these chateau walls. This room looked out over the southern expanse of Garronia, the forest that stretched eventually as far as the ocean.

It was so peaceful here, in Theo’s idyll in the mountains. He hadn’t been willing to break that peace, not even when he’d checked his e-mail. His parents had sent him three separate messages, and Cyril had flooded his phone with texts. Only Stefan had been quiet, as he’d said he would be, unless the need was great.

It hadn’t been, apparently.

He allowed a small sigh to whisper over Emmaline’s shoulder, but she didn’t stir. Based on what he’d seen of the television coverage, the story had nearly peaked by early evening. The international media community was a vulture, but it was also a creature of needs. It fed off any carrion that was thrust in front of it. But if there was no new meat to tear apart, the bird would be forced to fly on and seek its stories elsewhere.

Kristos was sure everyone at the castle was doing their level best to bury any interest in an ongoing story too. Nevertheless, there was no denying the fact that the Accession Ball for his much-vaunted status as crown prince was going to happen later this week. Putting it off would simply feed the rumor mill that there was more occurring in the castle than they’d presented, and that was a nightmare nobody wanted to endure.

But he’d have at least one more day to himself with Emmaline. And considering how much he’d been able to accomplish in the first fifteen hours of their acquaintance, the prospect of at least another thirty-six was definitely good news.

There was still far too much he wanted to know about Emmaline Andrews—enigmatic American, former musician, current caregiver, bedder of terrible lovers before him—and he was determined to get the answers.

“Emmaline,” he murmured, leaning down over her.

“Mm?” she didn’t so much as respond coherently as force herself back to consciousness out of an innate need to ensure everyone was okay, taken care of, he knew. It was one of her most immediately obvious attributes—not one he necessarily liked, but as much a part of her as were her hair and eyes.

He briefly weighed what he wanted to ask of her and found the questions coming to mind were not at all useful. So he settled on something simple. “What would you like to do tomorrow,
koukla mou
?” he asked.

She answered so quietly, he had to lean forward to hear her words, and then it took him a moment to process what she was saying. “The lake.”

He frowned at her. “The lake?”

She made a halfhearted gesture to the window, then snuggled more deeply into the sheets, leaving him so curious that he kissed her again on the shoulder, then moved out of the bed to stand at the window where he’d found her. A scan of the far horizon identified the gleam of water, and he nodded. The lake. She meant Estral Falls.

Of course they could go there.

A sudden chirring of night creatures took his gaze back down to the forest beneath him, and he squinted in the darkness. Dimitri must still be down there, and Kristos leaned out the window to scan the walls and tiled rooftops of the chateau. Theo had not been too concerned with securing his house from on-foot attacks, which meant Kristos could easily escape.

With only a second’s hesitation, Kristos moved to the chest of drawers, pulling them open to remove pants and a shirt that he always kept here. His running shoes were in the closet. It took him only a few minutes more to return to the window, stepping on top of the wide sill, steadying himself for a moment. Behind him, Emmaline breathed in a rhythmic cadence. She wouldn’t be waking any time soon. And if he could get the jump on Dimitri…

The drop to the tiled rooftop of the next tier of the chateau was short, and Kristos was already running as his feet connected with the hard surface. If Dimitri was anywhere close, he would definitely have heard the noise. But would he make the connection that it was Kristos dropping on him from above? Kristos didn’t think so.

Scaling the walls was short work, and he dropped easily into the narrow grassy space between the house and the forest. He stepped into the shadows, going completely still, waiting for his heart rate to slow so he could hear the sounds of forest around him.

Dimitri was definitely not aware of him—or at least, not entirely certain. A soft curse sounded to his right, at some distance, and Kristos took off through the trees. Dimitri had the advantage of night-vision goggles, but Kristos had spent many hours in this forest. He would still be the one with the upper—

A figure stepped out of the trees immediately in front of him, eyes glowing eerily red. Clearly acting on instinct, Dimitri ducked, then plowed into Kristos’s chest, sending him flying. They rolled together, and Kristos took a hard elbow to the temple before delivering a roundhouse crack that took his larger attacker off his heels.

The man’s curse as he connected with a tree trunk was
very
satisfying. “Since when did you think you could beat me in a fair fight, you big ox?”

“I wasn’t trying to fight you.” Dimitri blew out a hard breath, doubled over. “If I was trying to fight you, you’d be dead. I heard you lumbering over the rooftops like some sort of vagrant, and my duty is to protect you, even from yourself.”

Kristos was on his feet now, his hands loose, his stance wide. “I don’t need protecting.”

“Yes, you do,” Dimitri said. He stood and rubbed a hand over his face, pulling off his goggles. “Here.” He handed the set to Kristos, laughing as Kristos grabbed the prize and immediately put it to his face. Through the filtered image, he saw Dimitri staring back at him, his gaze unexpectedly chagrined.

“Ari didn’t want to be crown prince either, you know. You two are not so different from each other.”

That stopped Kristos. He fixed his stare on Dimitri, then pulled the goggles off. Some moonlight filtered through the trees—enough for him to see his brother’s best friend. “He talked to you about it?”

Dimitri shrugged. “Enough. He wanted to find a way to serve in the military with you, despite being the heir apparent. He wanted to put an end to the round of ceremonial ribbon cuttings and foreign travel that did nothing more than remind the world that Garronia existed, when it should be known for something more than its newest prince.” He looked away into the forest. “Part of me thinks he knew what he was doing when he flew off in that untested plane. Part of me knows he would never have done that to his family.”

“Or to you.”

Dimitri snorted. “Me, he would screw over in a heartbeat. And now I’ve been saddled with Frederick. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d wish to be stuck with you on a mission. He’s an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, infrared mark his gear. You’ll always know where to find him when the trouble starts.”

“Ah.” Dimitri’s worried expression turned into a wide grin. “That makes it official. You’ll make an excellent king one day.”

Chapter 11

Emmaline woke with a start, not sure for a moment where she was. White, gauzy curtains fluttered in the morning breeze, and sunlight spilled brightly over dark tiles. Her body felt strange, rested and languorous, the kind of feeling she usually only had when…

Her eyes shot wide as the sound of water pouring from a shower finally penetrated her brain. She was in Kristos’s room, and they’d—they’d actually—

Holy crap! She’d just met the guy yesterday morning!

Emmaline sat up, her hands going to her face. Her borrowed dress was now neatly folded over the chair, and she frowned down at herself, checking beneath the sheet.

Nope. No clothes.

And Kristos was in the shower. What was she supposed to do here? All her careful planning deserted her, and she felt an unparalleled desire to make a list. Of something. She couldn’t just throw on her dress and slut-walk out of the room. That would make their next meeting almost unbearable. Plus, if she encountered a housekeeper or maid or someone like that, she would pretty much self-immolate on the spot. Which would cause a stain, if nothing else.

She might get up and brazenly waltz into Kristos’s shower, only she wouldn’t really know what to do once she got there. As beautiful as Garronia accommodations were, they were tiny, built to a European scale. Both the hotel shower and the one in her guest bedroom here had been about the size of a coffin and just as inviting.

Or she could maybe go all ’40s bombshell and loll back against the pillows? Except most of those were on the floor, it looked like. Maybe she should just fake going back to sleep?

The sound of a buzzing phone made her jerk her head to the right. Kristos’s phone. Not the one that he’d given her either. Was there news from the castle?

And had she really just had a thought that involved the word “castle”?

Emmaline had gathered enough sheets around her for dignity when the shower shut off. It was way too late for her to try a loll, but she attempted nonchalant, turning toward the door of the bathroom, as—

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Kristos paused in the doorway, wiping his face and chest with a snowy-white towel before tossing it back into the bathroom. That left only a towel wrapped around his hips, a very
loosely
wrapped towel, slung very
low
around his hips, and baring the most incredible expanse of rugged, battle-scarred male torso she’d ever seen in her life. The ridges of his abs alone were worth a study all on their own, and—