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Authors: Teresa Carpenter

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“Good morning.” She greeted Julian with forced cheer. They had such a complex relationship. From moment to moment she never knew if he was going to kiss her or freeze her out. Today she just hoped for cordial.

He lowered one end of his paper and eyed her over the bend.

“Good morring, Unca Julie,” Sammy echoed.

She ramped up her smile and childishly crossed her fingers as she ignored protocol to pull a chair out, seating first Sammy and then herself.

“Please, join me,” he offered ruefully. But he did fold his newspaper and set it aside. “Good morning Samson. Ms. Vicente.”

“My lord. I am being presumptuous, I know, and I did promise Bernadette I would be on my best behavior.” She bit her lip a little over that confession. “But you are so busy and have made such a good effort to spend time with Sammy, I thought we should make some effort to come to you, too.” She winced at the yellow bruising on his hands. “How are you?”

“Better than I have a right to be. The bandages came off yesterday. The doctor advises me I’m lucky I didn’t break a few bones.” He flexed his fingers. “That’s because of you. I’m in your debt again.”

“Not at all. We all need to vent occasionally.” Not wanting to dwell on the incident in case he changed his mind, she changed the topic. “I see we have interrupted your reading.”

“No. This—” he tapped the paper “—has become more habit than necessity these days. I now have advisors that present me with the news.”

“You do not sound too pleased with the service.”

“I like gathering my own information.”

“Ah. And so you will.” She glanced significantly at the paper. “Perhaps you will lose this need once you gain trust in your advisors. I imagine it will take time for everyone to work comfortably together.”

“An excellent observation. You’re very intuitive.”

“No.” A blush heated her cheeks under his focused attention. “Just a good listener.”

“Yes,” he mused. “I have noticed.”

“What is giving you fits?” she asked, because obviously something was. “No need to give names or details. Generalities are sufficient.”

He simply shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. “You are a temptation, Ms. Vicente.”

She bowed her head to avoid the intensity in his gaze. “I only mean to help.”

“I can’t deny I need help.” Weariness flowed through his words. “Or someone to talk things through with. I wish my father were stronger.”

“And perhaps he wishes he was needed more.”

“Indeed?” His retort was sharp. “You know my father so well?”

“No, but we had a visit in the garden yesterday. I got the impression he sometimes feels useless.”

“Quite the good listener,” he observed. “That’s ridiculous. He’s the King.”

“I know. But he is still human. And when we have been ill, we sometimes doubt our abilities. Once we let the reins slip away, it can be difficult to grasp them again.”

“You’re saying he wants to rule again but doesn’t know how to regain his authority?” The notion clearly astounded him.

“Possibly. I hardly know for certain. I am just going on instinct. At the very least he might appreciate the distraction of a conversation.”

“I hungy,” Sammy announced.

“I am, too.” Julian switched his gaze to the boy, and Katrina breathed again. “I’m having pancakes.”

“Yeah. I wan’ pancakes, too!” Sammy bounced in his seat. “K’tina wan pancakes?”

“Yes, pancakes and maybe some eggs and sausage.”

“I wan’ eggs and sausage,” he demanded.

She laughed. “You want it all.”

“I hungy.” He nodded.

The maid appeared followed by a footman, both carrying trays they placed in the middle of the table. “May I make you a plate?”

“Thank you, Amy, we will serve ourselves,” Julian responded.

“Allow me.” Katrina began to lift lids and soon had full plates in front of everyone. Sammy glowed as he chomped on a pancake. He also had eggs and meat, along with some fresh berries. Julian had a much larger serving of the same. She stuck to eggs, sausage and a few berries.

Silence fell with the arrival of the food. Once a few bites were consumed, the quiet gave way to giggles as Julian teased Samson by trying to steal some of his berries. Katrina sat back and watched them have fun. Something she felt they both needed. These moments with his family really helped Sammy with his loss.

And from what he’d revealed, Julian would also benefit from a few minutes of levity. His phone rang, and she experienced a letdown, because truthfully, she enjoyed this time with the two of them. So much for applauding her own efforts.

But Julian surprised her by rejecting the call and responding with a text. For the next ten minutes he devoted himself to Sammy as they finished the meal. He talked to him like an equal, and Sammy responded well to him even when the topic turned serious.

“Samson, your Mama and Papa’s funeral is tomorrow.”

Sammy nodded solemnly. “K’tina told me. We are goin’ say bye-bye to Mama and Papa.”

“That’s right.” Julian wiped his hands and set the cloth napkin on the table. His gaze touched her before going back to the boy. “It will be a very long day. We want to say a proper goodbye, and the citizens of Kardana need to be able to say bye-bye, too.”

“K’tina says lots of peoples loveded them.” Sammy’s bottom lip began to tremble. “But I loveded them most.”

“Yes, we loved them best,” Julian confirmed, reaching for the napkin he just discarded and wiping Sammy’s cheeks. “You will have to be a big boy and sit still for a very long time.”

“I be good,” Sammy promised. “K’tina says I make Mama and Papa happy when I am good. She says they will smile at me from h’ven.”

“She’s right. Katrina is very smart.” Julian threw her a thankful glance. “Come give me a hug.”

Sammy hopped up and threw himself into his uncle’s arm. He wrapped his little arms about Julian’s neck and clung. Man and child comforting each other. She blinked back the sting of tears.

“Your Highness.” A nursemaid named Inga stood at the end of the table. In her mid-twenties, the petite blonde showed sense and compassion the few times Katrina took Sammy to the nursery.

At her appearance, Julian kissed his nephew on the head and patted his back. “Sammy, Uncle Julian needs to talk to Katrina for a few minutes. Inga is here to take you back to your room, okay.”

He looked ready to protest, but Inga stepped back and pointed to his tricycle. “I brought your bike, but you must be careful and stay close to me.”

His eyes lit up. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Inga.” Julian nodded his dismissal.

Heart racing, Katrina watched Sammy ride away. What was this about? Was Inga her replacement? With the funeral tomorrow, was Julian thinking her services were no longer needed? She should be happy at the prospect of going home. Yet the thought made her stomach hurt.

“Katrina.” Julian drew her attention away from the departing child.

“You are very good with him,” she told him. “He still gets sad, but he is going to be fine.”

“Yes. In large part due to you.
K’tina says,
” he mimicked. But he covered her hand with his. “I was surly earlier and I apologize. As you’ve guessed, I’m on edge. There are so many issues demanding my attention. I keep asking myself, what would Donal do? But the answer doesn’t always feel right, and I end up arguing with myself.”

“Julian, you must not do that to yourself.” Unthinking, she turned her hand to thread her fingers with his. “Donal is gone. It is sad, but a fact nonetheless. Yes, he was well respected, but I urge you to follow your own way. You will not truly feel comfortable in the position until you do.”

“You are probably right, but it is not as easily done as said. My advisors were his advisors, and they expect me to act as he would have. The Europol vote comes up soon and I’m being urged to approve the change as it has been presented. I agree with the primary purpose, but I have reservations about the execution of those changes.”

“Then you must speak up,” she urged him. “The advisors will adjust once you exert yourself. You are a highly intelligent man, a logical thinker. If you have reservations, others probably do, as well. And remember you have to live with your decision. If you do not speak up and the problems you foresee occur, how will you feel?”

He rubbed his eyebrow. “Not good.”

“You wish to honor Donal, which is admirable, but how long will you act as his ambassador? Soon enough you will not know his opinion on issues and you will be forced to address the question or vote from your own perspective. You should just start now. Plus, who is to say Donal wouldn’t have agreed with your position if you had discussed it with him? I believe the best way to impress your advisors is to be yourself.”

“So wise. Am I supposed to tell them
K’tina says?
” he teased her.

She blushed. Blast her unruly tongue. But how did she hold back when he seemed so alone, so torn as he struggled to do right by his country and his brother. Since she’d already offered her unsolicited opinion, she added, “You are supposed to be true to yourself, to act on your own convictions. And talk to your father. You do not have to do this alone.”

“Perhaps I’ll do that. Thanks for the advice, but that is not why I asked to speak to you. The funeral is tomorrow. I want you to sit with the family.”

Shock stole her voice, panic kicking her pulse into high gear. Never had she expected this possibility. Her palms grew clammy. To sit with the family would bring her to the attention of the press. Speculation would be rife and they wouldn’t stop until they knew every detail of her life.

“No.” She pushed her plate away. “It is a time for family. It would be inappropriate.”

“I’ve already made the arrangements,” he advised her as if she had no choice in the matter.

“Your father will not approve.”

“I spoke with my father. He gave his approval.”

“But no,” she protested, “this is not right. I am not family.”

“Katrina, it’s okay. No need to get upset.” He leaned in, cupped her hand in both of his.

Oh, she was in such trouble. His touch comforted and distressed her at the same time. She wasn’t prepared for this moment. Had hoped never to have to tell him of her shame.

“I would rather not.” She tried to dissuade him. “My presence will just provoke speculation when the focus should be on Donal and Helene. The whole country is mourning. They do not wish to see a stranger sitting with the royal family.”

“It doesn’t matter that you are not family. You are Jean Claude’s goddaughter, a valued guest. People will understand. Sammy loves you. You, more than anyone, will be a comfort to him tomorrow.”

Unfair. She’d do almost anything for the child, but appearing at the funeral with the young Prince would only bring more heartache down on the Ettenburl family, and they’d already suffered so much.

“It is best if I stay in the background,” she insisted.

“He needs you.” Julian was relentless in his persistence. He lifted her bowed head on one finger until she looked him in the eyes. “I need you.”

“Oh Julian—” his image blurred as tears welled in her eyes “—I cannot.”

‘My dove, do not cry.” His thumb swiped away an escaped tear. “Is this about the pictures?”

She froze, literarily went ice-cold. “You know?”

She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t think. How was it possible he knew about the pictures? Only a handful of people in the world knew. He was not one of them.

“Jean Claude told me before we left Pasadonia.”

“Oh my God.” She felt raw, exposed. Betrayed.

“He thought I should know of your concerns. It was an honorable move on his part.”

“Honor?” She laughed harshly. The ugliness of the pictures flashed before her mind’s eye. No wonder he felt free to kiss her. He thought she was easy.

“There is no honor in this matter. Everyone should have just let me stay home.” She jumped to her feet. Home was exactly where she needed to go. “I am sorry you were made a part of my—” she swallowed hard “—unfortunate incident.” She pushed her chair in, held tight to the finials. “I believe it is time for me to return to Pasadonia.”

Pasadonia, but maybe not the palace. How could Jean Claude tell this man of her shame? Had Bernadette known? Had her father? Her thumb went to her mother’s ring, caressed the metal. She’d never felt so alone.

She stepped back, dipped into a curtsey. “By your leave, Your Highness.” And then she fled. She didn’t run, but moved with great purpose through the drawing room, down the halls, up the stairs to her room next to Sammy’s suite. Happy to reach her refuge, she shoved the door closed.

And turned to find Julian looming large before her.

 

CHAPTER NINE

K
ATRINA
BLINKED
AT
Julian. “How?”

“This is a sixteenth-century castle. There are many secret passageways throughout.”

“So it is okay to invade my privacy?” She walked around him. “Please go away.”

“No.” He crowded her, forcing her farther into the room. “I’m sorry. I never meant to cause you pain.”

“How could it not hurt?” She backed away from him, needing distance, needing to be alone to bind her wounds. “It was the most devastating time of my life. A stupid, shameful time.”

“Katrina.” He took a step forward. She took two back. He stopped, his expression anxious. “What happened?”

“You know.” She wrapped her arms around herself to contain the pain, to hold back the tremors. Unable to look at him, she chose the ceiling instead. Such exquisite crown molding. “He told you. Just go. I am sorry for your loss, but I do not want you kissing me anymore. Despite what you think, I am not a loose woman. I will not be used in that way again.”

“I don’t think that.” He sounded appalled. “How could I believe such a thing of you?” Now he sounded closer.

Damn him. He stood in front of her, too close, too solid, too concerned.

“You are the kindest, most giving woman I know. I think of you as smart, and intuitive, and gutsy. You’re also sexy as hell, which is why I like kissing you.” He cupped her cheek, rested his forehead on hers. “Jean Claude told me there was an incident in your past that resulted in some compromising photos being taken. He assured me all evidence of the documents has been purged, but you still fear they may reappear and cause an embarrassment. Now you tell me the rest.”

“Is that not enough?” She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. With a sigh she gave up fighting. His heat, his strength were too much temptation. “It is best if I leave before the embarrassment can be visited on the House of Kardana.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” His mouth moved across the skin of her cheek. At her ear, he whispered, “Tell me.”

“I was young, stupid, naive. My junior year of university I met a man. He was so hot, so sophisticated. Totally out of my league. Yet he seemed to have eyes only for me. I should have known better, yet he flattered me, wooed me, fooled me. I thought I was in love, but he was a paparazzo intent on using me from the beginning.”

“Bastard,” he grated.

“Oh yeah. As soon as I started seeing him, he began hinting about visiting the palace. But I had a full load of courses, and maybe I sensed something was off deep down because I never took him. Thank goodness.”

Julian drew her to the bed, sat beside her at the foot. “Where do the photos come in?”

She shook her head, and unthinkingly worked her mother’s ring. “He drugged me—at a party—then took me back to my apartment, st-stripped me, and took some really ugly pictures. Some—” she drew in a steadying breath “—some of them included him doing things to me.”

“Rape?” He choked out the question.

She closed her eyes, wished she could shut out the memories as easily. “The doctor said no.”

He said nothing for several beats of her heart. She clenched her hands together in her lap waiting for his condemnation. He’d understand now why she should leave.

But he didn’t push her away; he pulled her into his arms. “Tell me he is dead.”

Bad, she was a bad, bad person, because his comment actually made her want to smile. “When I woke up, the pictures were spread all around me. I was so sick, from the drugs, from the pictures. All I could think of was to call my dad. It was mortifying.”

“And he advised Jean Claude.”

“I begged him not to. But, of course, he had to. The Prince was very kind. I couldn’t look him in the eye for months. But telling him was the smart thing to do. The extortionist didn’t expect me to confess my shame so quickly, so they were able to capture him when he made his first demands.”

“But he lives.”

“Yes.” She did smile this time. “In prison. For the rest of his life. Extorting a member of the royal family is considered treason in Pasadonia.”

“Then he should be dead.”

“So bloodthirsty,” she chided him, burying her face against his neck, because deep down she felt vindicated by his reaction. “I admit at first I wanted him dead. He violated me. Not just my body, which was bad enough, but my life, my pride, my relationships, my future. He took it all from me.”

“Not everything,” Julian denied. “You fought back. You’re a beautiful, courageous woman.”

If only she believed him. “I am glad he lives. He destroyed my life. And I put him behind bars for the rest of his. My freedom for his—it is a fair trade.”

“Katrina—” he lifted her face to stare into her eyes “—you don’t need to fear him anymore. Jean Claude got rid of the pictures and all evidence of them. Do not give this psycho any more power over you. I want you with the royal family tomorrow.”

“No.” She shook her head, her shoulders, trying to get away from him. “This is the digital age. Nothing completely disappears anymore.”

“Treason is a death sentence. If the man lives, he bargained the pictures for his life. You are safe from him. No one will ever see those photos.”

“I am not worried about me.” She stopped struggling to face him. “Do you not understand? I was the fool. I let that happen to me. If the pictures went public, I would be mortified. This is what I deserve. But it would not be me alone who suffers. The press would exploit my relationship with Jean Claude. Embarrassment to him, the Princess, my father, to you and your family is what I seek to avoid.”

Oh lord, she hoped never to see such a look of defeat on her father’s face ever again.

Julian kissed her.

He framed her face in his hands and took her mouth with his. His tongue breached the line of her lips and sank deep to tangle with hers. On a half sob she answered his demand, sinking into his arms. He felt and tasted familiar, safe.

But it was an illusion.

She pulled her mouth free. “Stop.”

Safety was always an illusion.

“This is wrong.” She struggled halfheartedly, but he rolled with her, pinning her back on the bed and pinioning both of her hands in one of his. His mouth went to the curve of her neck.

“What’s wrong is your thinking.” The breath from his words heated her skin. “You need a distraction to allow you to think clearly once again. You were a victim.” He pulled the neckline of her yellow sweater back and licked her collarbone. “You deserve none of what happened to you.”

“Julian, we cannot.” She tried to reason with him when all she really wanted was for him to continue kissing her. “You have appointments.”

“Today they wait for me.”

She arched into his touch when his hand found the skin of her stomach and roamed up to cup a lace-covered breast. He meant to steal her thoughts and he succeeded. She couldn’t think while his talented fingers worked her flesh. Could no longer remember why she wanted him to stop.

“Julian,” she cried out.

“Shh, my dove.” He levered up and over, releasing her in the process. He wiped tears from her face. “I would never hurt you.” He kissed the corner of her right eye. “I’ll stop if you truly want me to.”

She looped her arms around his neck. “Do not stop! You make me forget when I am in your arms. You make me feel again.”

“What of the boyfriend you thought me when you woke me with a kiss?”

She chewed her bottom lip, which earned her a soothing lick of his tongue. Had she once thought him cold?

“An aide to one of Jean Claude’s ministers took an interest in me last year. He was attractive and nice. I thought I might...that enough time had passed. But I never made it past a few kisses.”

He pulled back, watched her expression. “Tell me, Katrina, have I made you uncomfortable at any time?”

“No.” Touched, she traced his jaw with her fingers. A little shy, she confessed, “There is no one but you when you hold me.”

He liked that. “Then let us replace all the bad memories with good ones.” His mouth settled on hers and his fingers went beneath the hem of her sweater to the button of her skirt.

“Wait.” Her hands closed on his over the material. “Not everything. I—”

“Shh. No need to explain.” He slowly worked at ridding her of her clothes, caressing and kissing her through the sensual striptease until she was down to her silky cream camisole. He made faster work of shedding his own clothes, and soon gathered her in his arms.

He made love to her with exquisite tenderness, worshipping her body from temple to toes. The softness of his touch teased, tormented, tantalized until she withered with want. She kissed his jaw, his neck, the ball of his shoulder, everywhere she could reach. She loved the feel of him, the taste of him, the freedom to come alive in his arms.

Sensation built with the brush of skin on skin, of muscles flexing, and hips rolling. Julian whispered his intentions and followed through like the true strategist he was. She thrilled to his every move, his exquisite care, his wicked demands.

“Julian,” she cried out when he joined with her. And then rolled and put her on top, urging her to take her pleasure. She blinked, slowly grinned and wiggled to get her bearings.

“Have mercy,” he groaned and cupped her bottom to help set her rhythm. And she reached new heights of sensation.

Taking him at his word, she moved, slowly, then faster, until sweat glistened on their skin and every breath was a gasp. “More,” she demanded, biting his shoulder. “I want more.”

“Then take more.” Pulling her close he flipped them putting her under him. He reached new depths, drawing the passion tighter, the emotion higher. His kiss stole her breath, but she didn’t care, only sensation mattered, only the race for ecstasy. And then he was there and taking her with him. She clung, body arched, and soared the exploding skies with him.

*

A short while later, when she’d almost caught her breath, Julian’s cell phone rang in his pants pocket across the room.

Next to her he groaned.

She laughed and trailed her fingers down his truly magnificent back. “I thought I was hearing bells ring while we were making love.” She lightly bit and then kissed his arm. “Turns out it was your phone. That is probably the tenth time it has rung.”

“I’m going to burn the thing. Do me a favor and toss it in the fireplace.”

“Right. And two seconds later your security detail would burst through the door. You know they are out there.”

He lifted onto an elbow and met her eyes from mere inches away. “I know I don’t want to leave you.”

“I am fine.” She kissed him softly. “Mission accomplished.”

“Katrina —”

“Shh.” She touched a finger to his lips. “I am fine.”

“You’ll sit with Sammy, with me, during the funeral?” he pressed.

“Yes. If you really wish me to. I will sit with you.”

How could she abandon him, or Sammy, at such a vulnerable time? Much as she wanted to protect her secrets and keep her family from further embarrassment, she couldn’t do it at the expense of an innocent child. But she would attend as Sammy’s nursemaid. She must keep her association with the two totally professional. It was the only way to protect everyone she cared for.

*

The family met for breakfast the next morning. They ate in silence as the weight of the day loomed before them. Julian looked around the table.

His father wore a new suit, fitted to his leaner frame. He had a bit of color in his face from his walks the past few days. Julian worried about his stamina, but the proud jut of his chin boded well for his endurance. His Majesty the King of Kardana was a stubborn man of pride.

GiGi sat with a stiff posture and a pale complexion. Grief shadowed her eyes but was otherwise absent from her expression. She had experienced loss many times in her long life.

“Thank you, Ms. Vicente, for agreeing to sit with Samson. It will be a long day for him.” Lowell addressed Katrina.

“It is my honor, Your Majesty.” She responded to the King, but her gaze met Julian’s briefly before she went back to pushing eggs around her plate. “I am happy to help in any way I can.”

“I also appreciate that you are joining us,” GiGi added. “I hope I may call upon you if I need assistance.”

“Of course.” Katrina laid her hand over the older woman’s. “Please let me know if you need anything.”

Grimes came in then along with Julian’s and his father’s assistants, who began running through the day’s schedule. The funeral procession would go from the palace to the cathedral two miles away where a full funeral mass would be performed for family and invited friends and dignitaries. The procession would then move on to the National Cemetery, and Prince Donal and Princess Helene would be laid to rest. Afterward, a grand reception would be hosted at the palace.

Julian watched Katrina while the day’s obligations were outlined. He’d thought much on her revelations the day before. Truthfully, it preyed on his mind. She was so giving, so courageous, she deserved better than to live in fear of an eventuality that would never occur.

Since Donal’s passing so much of what Julian dealt with daily was reactive. He hadn’t had a chance to get ahead of anything yet. And it chafed against his nature. She urged him to give it time. And so he would.

How he wished he’d met her at another time. Any other time.

The situation was just so difficult. He needed the comfort she offered, the gift of her passion, a gift beyond measure. Which tore him asunder, because being with her, no matter how brilliant it was, directly defied his father’s decree to leave her alone.

He wasn’t a rebel, never had been. But today he chose Katrina.

At the church, King Lowell escorted his mother to the front pew. Katrina followed behind, carrying Samson. Julian acted as pallbearer for Donal and then joined the family, sitting between GiGi and Samson.

A hint of apples reached him giving him a much-needed boost. Inhaling deeply he took great solace in having Katrina close by. He glanced over at her. She wore a severe sheath dress in unrelieved black. Her intent, he knew, was to downplay her appearance in the hopes of fading into the background. A corner of his mouth ticked up. Her pale skin and vibrant red hair made that impossible.

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