King and Kingdom (25 page)

Chey could see from this perspective how difficult, if not impossible, it would be to 'sneak' up on the castle and attack it. Several towers for lookouts provided advance warning of any incoming sea vessels, and the island itself had sections of hostile coastline that made it hazardous to anchor in, as Sander pointed out next.

Awash with wonder, she studied what she could see of the structure that would be her home for the next several months until the helicopter descended toward a landing pad adjacent to the castle itself.

Disembarking as the sun sank lower against the horizon, Chey noticed the security didn't swarm as they had during the last transfer. Probably because they needn't worry about spies in such a secluded area.

Sliding into the back seat of a glossy sedan, Sander at her side, she set her hands in her lap and marveled at the scenery.

“What do you think so far?” Sander asked.

“I don't have words to describe how beautiful I think it is,” she admitted.

The sedan pulled away from the helipad and cruised along a single lane road that wound toward a tall arch protected with an enormous gate. The landing pad wasn't far at all from the castle itself, giving easy access to arrive and depart at will.

“It's always been my favorite holding,” Sander confessed. When they came to a fork in the road, he gestured the other direction, where the coastline swerved in the shape of a half moon. “That building there wasn't in the original plan. My grandfather added it on for days when he wanted to linger on the beach but didn't want to be enclosed behind the castle walls.”

Chey caught the barest glimpse of a structure built on rock just at the line of the sand, almost a mini-castle in the way it was made of the same color stone as the big one and sported dominant, regal architecture. One could stand right on the broad covered portico and stare out at the water, unimpeded.

“That's no small building,” she pointed out, as the structure disappeared from sight when the sedan passed through the open gate.

“Six bedrooms, with a large porch and an even larger balcony. It has its own little garden, a back patio with a great view of the mountain and windows all along the front. I'll take you there soon and let you wander around.” He glanced aside, taking her reactions in.

“I'd like that, yes,” Chey said. The grounds past the gate seemed manicured and well appointed despite the layer of snow covering it all. If she had to guess, she would have thought the walls here were at least twenty feet high. The castle itself rose far above that, ensconced behind the protective barrier, with obvious balconies, arches, and niches easy to see from the bailey.

When the car pulled up to the entrance, footmen came to open the sedan door. Unlike the family seat, the security here all wore suits, as if none were military, and the staff's attire was simple black and white, easy to maneuver and move in.

Chey got out after Sander, exchanging a quiet word of thanks before taking the hand he offered to follow him up a shallow flight of wide stairs, through a high arch, and toward double doors that another staff member opened.

Right away, Chey sensed the difference in this castle compared to the other. Despite its more medieval architecture, there was still something casual and inviting about it. A foyer opened up from the doors, with a soaring dome ceiling and a great hall stretching to the right. On the left, a spartan table that sat at least thirty represented the dining hall. Arches carved into the walls were filled with stained glass overlooking the bailey. Colored light slanted across gray stone floors, only adding to the medieval feel.

Ahead, a long hallway led deeper into the structure. Aside it, a stone staircase that spiraled up out of sight into higher floors. There was so much mystery here that Chey was enthralled, her imagination set afire. She wanted to explore every nook, every cranny. How she wished she had her photography equipment with her.

“This is incredible,” Chey said, voice just a whisper. She didn't see any other staff members at the moment; the security had dispersed outside somewhere, rather than follow them inside.

“I'm glad you like it. I'll give you a proper tour in the morning, hm? For now, let me show you where you'll be sleeping.” He cut a dashing wink aside and led her toward the staircase.

“I thought that would be with you.” Chey marveled at her brazen tongue.

He laughed. “Exactly.”

From brazen to surprised, Chey parroted his laugh. “Really? Actually, I was joking. I figured I'd be shown to a suite like I had in the other castle.”

“Well, you
can
stay in another room if you like.” Deviant, he smiled.

“You're a devil,” she declared with another quiet laugh.

“I keep saying it's what you like best about me.”

“What I like best about you isn't proper for a lady to say.”

“Damn. It's all about the body, instead of the mind.” He lamented his circumstance with a put upon sigh.

Amused, Chey tilted her cheek against the muscled strength of his arm.

Chuckling, he kissed the top of her head.

After ascending two flights of stairs, they finally emerged onto the second level. Immediately to the left was a large, arching window. It dumped waning light across an open area with several hallways leading different directions.

“Wait, I want to glance out here a second,” she said, veering toward the window. The vista of castle, shore and water from this height was impressively beautiful. She could see angles of stone that made up the structure, part of the surrounding wall, and all of the half moon bay.

“You should see the view from the master suite,” Sander said, standing at her elbow.

“I will in a second. This is amazing, though.” Chey stepped back and let Sander guide her toward the hallway to the right. This was more private, with no rooms intersecting on the left. It was a shorter hall than the others, with two doors tucked into a niche halfway down.

“I'm glad you like it.” He opened one door and released her hand to let her walk through. “This is where you'll be sleeping.”

Chey crossed the threshold and sucked in a breath. The entire opposite wall facing the bay was made of more large arches with windows between columns at least three feet in circumference. A balcony with a carved stone rail followed the length of the suite, which appeared to take up the entire rest of the floor on this side. An enormous bed situated against a wall sported masculine covers in shades of cocoa and red with accents of fur draped across the foot and around some of the smaller pillows. Rugs covered the stone floor in specific spots, and more furniture sat in clusters near bookcases stuffed with old and new tomes. Swords and sheaths along with a large metal family crest took up space on the wall, along with a few tapestries taller than she was.

The effect, again, was distinctly spartan and medieval. Chey half expected a knight to come wandering out from one of several arches leading to other chambers in the suite. A fireplace across from the bed snapped and cracked, the flames flickering around several pieces of burning wood.

Behind her, Sander closed the door. He stepped past her and gestured to one arch on the right. “That's the bathroom and closet in there. I had some clothes and other feminine things brought in, just in case we weren't able to grab enough of your things before we left the states.”

“You were pretty sure I'd come with you, weren't you?” she asked, distracted by the décor.

“I wasn't about to take no for an answer,” he said.

She followed his gesture through the archway to the right that sat next to the fireplace. It was obvious that at some point, the castle had been updated to accommodate running water and more modern amenities, like a shower, toilet and jacuzzi tub tucked into the floor in the middle of the immense bathroom.

Entering the closet, she felt around for a light switch and flipped it on. Sander hadn't done justice to his declaration that he'd had some things brought in. Fully ten feet of a thirty foot section had an array of feminine clothing. That was just 'her' side. The other was 'his', stuffed to the gills with suits, shirts, slacks, jeans, khakis, hunting gear, several types of boots, polished shoes and more. In the center of the space stood a piece that served as one gigantic dresser. Flat on the surface, it had rows of drawers for folded items and even cubbies for shoes.

“I've never seen a closet this big,” she admitted. The back wall had a higher rod, where already a few long dresses hung. Chey turned around to find Sander leaning against the door frame, one arm propped above his head. He glanced past her as if he'd seen it all too many times before.

Of course he had. He'd grown up with this kind of luxury every day of his life.

“I'm sure you'll find ways to put it to good use,” he teased. Then he retreated, letting her follow as she would.

Chey, too nosy for her own good, went to check the hanging clothes. There was a selection of jeans, casual tops, fancier tops and dresses present. Handfuls of each, enough to see her through at least two weeks without wearing the same thing twice, all in her size. There were three coats in varying stages of elegance or usefulness to choose from. She found underthings in one of the dresser drawers, socks, scarves and pajamas.

He'd thought of everything.

“Sander, why did you even want me to bring anything? There's already enough here for half a month,” she asked, leaving the closet after turning off the light. She went back into the main part of the bedroom. He was out on the balcony, hands in his pockets, staring out over the sea.

Curbing her curiosity to see what the rest of the suite contained, she stepped out onto the balcony with him. Up here, a stiff, frigid breeze gusted against her skin. She huddled into her coat and glanced at his profile. He stood with his head slightly tilted back, eyes lidded, hair lashing around his neck. Chey decided he'd never looked more like a Nordic conqueror than he did right then. She could easily superimpose him against the backdrop of the castle into another time, another era. One he would just as easily reign in.

In that moment, Chey was so very thankful that he'd come back for her. Regardless of her broken heart and fury over his 'marriage' to Valentina, and being left in the dark for weeks, it was all worth it to be here, right now, watching a future King gaze out over his domain.

Her
future King.

“You look like a man who has a lot on his mind,” she said.

“I am a man with a lot on his mind,” he replied. After a few seconds, he glanced at her without breaking his stance.

“You know what's on my mind right now?”

“What?” His mouth quirked like he suspected he knew what she might say.

“Thanksgiving dinner. I was going to have Ramen or something, but maybe we can improvise and have something a little nicer. I'm sure you don't celebrate that holiday, but it can't hurt to eat and be thankful at the same time, can it?” She smiled what she hoped was a charming smile.

He laughed. “If it's a Thanksgiving dinner you want, then that's what you'll get.”

“For starters, that'll do.”

“Greedy.” Hooking her around the neck with his arm, Sander tugged her inside and closed the doors against the cold.

. . .

Disoriented by the time change, jet lag and the unfamiliar bedroom, she sat up out of a dead sleep and reached for Sander among the sheets. An urgent question dawned on her, perhaps in dreams, one she needed an immediate answer to.

“Sander? Wake up. Why didn't I think to ask you this last night?” Mumbling to herself, she discovered his side of the bed empty. Knuckling the sting from her eyelids, she got out of bed and nabbed a robe from a nearby chair to cover her nakedness with. Tying the belt around her waist, she padded over the cold stone floor in search.

“Sander?”

“In here,” he called from somewhere beyond an archway and down a short hall.

Chey followed his voice, bundling deeper into the warmth. Rounding yet another arch—the entire chamber was separated by large rooms divided by these archways—she found him sitting in what appeared to be an office. A great mahogany desk sat in front of a wall bearing a floor to ceiling tapestry, with bookshelves and another desk for printers and the like taking up yet a different wall.

He sat in a tall leather chair, dressed in an immaculate suit of dark gray and white pinstripe. The coat, shed at some point when he began working, hung from a coat rack near one of the book cases. Golden hair pulled back into a low tail, he glanced up from the sheaf of papers in front of him.

“What are you doing up so early?” she asked, wondering how she'd missed his departure from bed. She curled into a plush chair on the other side of his desk, facing him, and drew her feet up onto the cushion. The morning after their impromptu Thanksgiving dinner found Chey feeling a little nauseous. She had eaten far too much of the excellent food, she decided.

He smiled while he watched her, then leaned back against the chair. Tossing down the pen, he crossed his arms over the breadth of his chest. “It's after ten in the morning. Time gets screwy when you lose as many hours as we did on the way over.”

Chey's mouth made an 'oh' of understanding and surprise. The reason she'd lurched out of bed rose in the back of her mind, however, and she blurted out the question while scraping the tangled mess of her hair away from her face.