To Steal a Groom (Royal Billionaire Romance)

To Steal a Groom

Royal Lions, Book Two
Cora Caraway
Copyright © 2014 by Cora Caraway
http://coracaraway.wordpress.com/
[email protected]
Find out how Grace crashed into Damon’s life in
To Steal a Prince
(Royal Lions, Book One).

1

Opening my eyes in the predawn light, I awake into a dream. There’s a prince in bed beside me, his face serene as he slumbers. He asked me to marry him yesterday morning, and I said yes. By the smile on his sleeping face, he’s pleased with his decision. My heart thumps as I twirl the lion ring around my finger. Is it my imagination, or is it more snug this morning?

I slip it off, just to be sure that I still can. Taking a deep breath, I look at Damon. His lashes flutter, but his eyes don’t open. Rolling over, he drapes an arm over me. How is it that he knows just how to comfort me even when unconscious? I slide the ring back on, lying with him for a moment in the light.

I still can’t believe that anyone would fall in love with a thief like me, let alone a prince. But if I hadn’t stolen and subsequently crashed his car, he never would have looked twice at me. Of course, that wasn’t my goal at the time. I was trying to make my getaway with the crown his future princess would wear. In a lovely fit of irony, that turned out to be me.

Sunlight shows the outline of Damon’s cheek and strong jaw. Slight shadows on his chin mark the stubble he’ll meticulously shave away when he wakes. Restless, I comb my fingers through my hair. I can’t stare at him all day. I have too many things to think about.

As carefully as I can, I lift his arm and edge off the bed. I thought my dismount was flawless, but as I gather my wayward clothes, he reaches a hand across the bed.

“Grace,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.

I tense. I don’t want to talk about what happened last night. Not now.

Damon closes and opens his hand, the only motion he can muster at this hour.

I can’t refuse him. I twine my fingers with his, giving a gentle squeeze. He’s so warm.

“I love you,” he says.

My heart twists. Three little words that cost me nothing to say, yet I can’t return them. I don’t deserve to after last night. I study Damon’s face, wondering how long before his eyes will flicker open, his face full of concern.

He breathes in deeply, his fingers relaxing their grip. I’m glad he’s spared the hurt of my silence. With any luck, he won’t remember any of this when he wakes.

I leave my painfully beautiful fiancé alone in bed, the covers rumpled from sleep and nothing more. My fingers start to twitch, like they always do when I’m stressed. Even a month ago, this usually meant someone was about to be relieved of their wallet. The problem with Damon is that he’d gladly give me anything I asked for. What am I supposed to steal now?

Dressing quickly, I check my hair in a gilded mirror. I doubt many people are awake at this hour, but today of all days I’d like to look nice. Closing Damon’s door as quietly as I can, I head to the main hall.

Its forest of pillars reminds me of a cathedral. I wander among them, their silence offering a chance for contemplation. A glint of gold catches my eye, and I stop by an alcove I’ve never noticed before. It holds three Fabergé eggs, which glimmer with intricate designs.

I stare at them. I admit that they’re works of art, though too gaudy for my taste. I’m sure King Darius could run the City of Lions for years on what they cost. Who even thinks of making garishly decorative eggs? More importantly, why would any sane person collect this kind of thing?

My fingers itch. The eggs lie unguarded, because who would be foolish enough to take them from under the king’s nose? There are tiny cameras monitoring this place, but that doesn’t matter to me. I’ve hidden before, and I could do it again.

With just one egg, I could live a comfortable life far from the palace. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about ball gowns, bodyguards, or Damon’s double-crossing brother. Word is that the king convinced Marc to return to the palace, but I’m not looking forward to seeing him again. He has a nasty habit of trying to frame me for his crimes.

I gaze at the eggs so long that they become all I see. Yes, Damon could get me anything. But what if I most want a life away from the palace? Somewhere I don’t have to worry about royal politics. I recently met Natalia, Damon’s ex and the daughter of a duke. I’d rather swim in shark-filled waters with a bacon bikini than have another conversation with her.

Still, I can’t leave all the annoyances of the palace without leaving Damon. And nothing would be worth that loss. With one last regretful glance at the eggs, I stuff my hands in my pockets. I already chose Damon, and I’d do it again. Every day, if I have to. I just wish I could repay him for all he’s done for me.

“Admiring the king’s treasures?”

I whirl to face Nic, Damon’s bodyguard and friend. “You scared the crap out of me! How’d you sneak up like that?”

“I can’t give away our secrets.” He grins at me. “I didn’t picture you as a fan of Fabergé.”

From his tone, I can’t tell if he’s trying to accuse me of something. “I’m allowed to look, aren’t I?”

“You’re allowed. That doesn’t mean you don’t look guilty.”

I scowl. “Maybe you should go back to bodyguard school.”

“That’s not necessary.” He folds his massive arms across his chest. “I know something’s up with you and Damon.”

“Why do you say that?” I clasp my hands behind my back so he can’t see the ring. Damon and I agreed that we would announce our engagement together, possibly at breakfast. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.

“To start with, Damon asked me politely if I could stay here while you went on your little boat ride. This deviates from his usual method of ditching me, which is to tell me he’s leaving half an hour after he means to, and then waving at me from his departing vehicle of choice.”

I have to stifle a laugh. To be fair, I’ve witnessed this before. That time it was on a helicopter.

Nic glowers. “Yes, very amusing. But answer me this: What was so different about this time?”

I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips as I think of the dive to the sunken galleon. How Damon knelt in the sand to present the lion ring to me. How I’ll get to be with him forever.

“Whoa.” Nic takes a step back.

“What?” I feel my face heat. What could I have possibly given away?

“Tell me he didn’t. He’s known you what, a week?”

I stand there, openmouthed. Nic couldn’t have guessed our secret, could he?

He shakes his head. “I’ll give him this, the man knows what he wants. And he’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

“What are you talking about?” I hope I didn’t stutter. It’s hard to make out my voice right now.

“Is that how you want to do this? It is my job to read people, you know.”

I say nothing, hoping that a stony silence will make him go away.

“All right, then. Show me your ring finger.”

I glare at him. “You can’t order me around.”

“But I can read you like a book. He proposed, didn’t he?”

Frantic, I look around the hall. “Not so loud!”

Nic raises his arms, triumphant.

“Congratulations.” The word comes out more venomous than I intended. “Maybe you should become a detective.”

“Don’t be so sour. Soon you’ll be a blushing bride.” He laughs. “This should teach Damon a lesson about keeping secrets from me.”

I back him against a wall. “You cannot tell anyone, Nic. Especially not Darius.”

“Do you think I’m insane? I’ll leave all the king’s wrath for you, thanks. But you can forget about keeping this from the rest of the palace. I don’t have to say anything because your secret is practically written on your face. Beyond that, someone’s bound to catch a glimpse of your ring, or relay a stray whisper to the king. Mark my words, everyone will know by noon.”

Trying not to frown, I stick my hands back in my pockets. “Not if I can help it.” I leave Nic, who’s gloating far too much for his own good. Heading toward the back doors, I think about going for a run in the gardens. Maybe that will clear my head.

“Grace,” Nic bellows, his voice echoing off the pillars.

I turn to him, hands on hips. “What?”

“Congratulations!”

It’s beneath me to even respond. I head through the double doors without sparing him another glance.

I’m not much of a runner, but it feels good to jog through the gardens. Morning mist still clings to the ground. Peacocks strut out of my way, glaring imperiously at me. My feet find a rhythm, slapping against the earth. This isn’t so bad. Maybe I should exercise more often.

I speed up until my calves begin to burn. At least I’m distracted from my traitorous twitching fingers. Besides, I deserve that burn. I’m going to promise myself to Damon, trust my life and happiness to him. So why couldn’t I even undress in front of him last night?

Pale sunlight warms the flowers all around me. I barely spare them a glance. What are they doing for anyone? They’re beautiful yet useless, just like me. A voice springs into my head, one that I’ve managed to banish for years.

There are so few men you can trust, darling. Most will use you, then throw you away the moment they’ve had their fill. Until that day comes, take everything you can from them. Bleed them dry, or they’ll leave you with nothing but a broken heart.

I sprint through a garden of orchids, as if I can outrun my mother’s voice in my mind. When I was young, I took her every word as gospel, hiding from the endless string of men she brought into our apartment while my father was out. Her words rang true to me then, as none of the men stayed around long.

Clenching my fists, I try not to cry. This is supposed to be the happiest time of my life. I just got engaged. I don’t want to think about how my mom ignored me for other men, how my father ignored me for jobs that tended to land him in jail. I wish I could erase my memories of the fights, the times when my parents were so wrapped up in their own worlds that they forgot to buy groceries.

Flowers bob as I pass, as if encouraging me to forget. I should focus on Damon, and on this new place that I’ll make my home. There’s no reason to linger over old demons. I’m not my mother, and Damon is not those men. He doesn’t want me simply for my body, and I don’t want him just for his money. But why can’t I get my mother’s words out of my head? Why is it such a struggle to breathe?

I need a break. Gasping for air, I lean against a marble statue that’s either throwing a discus or attempting to bowl. Closing my eyes, I consider the best way to steal it. I’d probably have to mimic the palace’s gardening service. Find out what kind of vehicle they use, and get a duplicate. Modify it with a false bottom, with the right dimensions for the statue. Or maybe I should pose as an art historian, and convince the king that it’s in need of repair?

My mind calms as it methodically follows my plans through. There’s no room for emotion in stealing objects of great value. Maybe that’s what draws me to it.

Sighing, I slide to the ground. Is that why I’m having such trouble letting Damon in? Have I been a thief so long that I’m out of touch with my feelings? My legs tingle, and I massage them absently. The worst part about last night was that he was so understanding. He told me to wait until I felt ready. I wish he had gotten angry and yelled at me. That I can deal with.

My right quad cramps, so I stretch out my leg. It’s hard to believe that Damon is my fiancé now. Soon he’ll be my husband. I have trouble wrapping my head around the thought. I try to think of myself as a wife, but the word sounds so strange. I picture myself in a kitchen, tugging on an apron so I can cook dinner. I have to laugh. That’s never going to happen. Luckily, Damon has personal chefs, so we shouldn’t starve.

I lean back against the uncaring marble. Everything glows when I think about Damon. So why can’t I give him what he wants?

Jumping to my feet, I force myself to jog again. I’m going to run all the way around the palace, even if that makes my legs fall off. As if it senses my newfound conviction, a peacock flies out of my path, scolding me. I kick up gravel, trying to ignore the world around me as well as the confusion swirling in my mind.

A hand reaches out to grab my arm. I leap straight into the air.

“Grace?” It’s Gabe, my former roommate. “I didn’t know you jogged.”

Is everyone out to spook me this morning? “I don’t. What are you doing here?”

“Rashad let me stay the night.” He flashes me a smug smile. “These are some fancy digs. I could get used to this kind of treatment.”

“I don’t know, your flat is really nice.” I smile, remembering the curtains that Gabe insisted were not burlap. As shabby as that flat was, it was home.

Gabe scoffs. “Don’t even think about that place. You don’t want to come back to my flat. You’re at the palace now. Play your cards right, and you could have an extended stay.”

I’m staring ahead so intently that I almost trip over my feet.

Gripping my elbow, Gabe steadies me. “What was that? Did a peacock leave a present for you to step in?”