Chapter Nine

“Your Highness, we should stop before we accidentally cross over into Austria and piss off their border guards,” Elias shouted into the wind. Because he’d been doing nothing but sucking wind in Christian’s wake as they’d galloped through the forest for the last half hour.

The heir to the throne yelled back over his shoulder. “Can’t keep up?”

Smug jackass. Christian was riding an Arabian gifted from the King of Dubai sired from a line of the fastest horses in the world. His name, Bariq, translated to lightning.

Whereas Elias sat on a…serviceable…Irish Hunter kept in the royal stables for guests. Silvester was calm. And unenthusiastic about Eli’s need to keep up with his prince. A professional jockey a hundred pounds lighter than Elias couldn’t keep up with Christian on this horse.

Which the prince knew damn well.

“Simply a reminder that our horses have to get us back to the palace as well. This isn’t a one-way ride. Unless you want to pull a dick move and call for a helicopter to come pick you up when Bariq runs out of steam.”

Christian slowed his mount. He turned in a half circle and broke into a wide grin at the rest of the security detail trailing by at least three hundred feet. “We smoked them.”

“Funny, I don’t recall you mentioning we were in a race. Next time maybe a heads-up would make it more fair?”

“More fair. Not more fun.” Christian undid the chinstrap of his helmet and took it off, scrubbing his hand through his hair. The helmet was their only nod to traditional riding attire. This was exercise, not on the official calendar, so they got the rare chance to relax in jeans and tees, which almost never happened once they left college. The Royal Navy had required uniforms, and it turned out that life in Alcarsa Palace had its own uniform code, as well. “I needed the run.”

Talk about a moment of déjà vu. “Funny, that’s precisely what your youngest sister said this morning. Perhaps you two have more in common than you realize.”

Christian pulled the reins to a full stop, and then pierced Elias with the violet eyes that were a dead match for Kelsey’s. “I still don’t see how I can craft an entire conversation around that. Damn it to hell, I hate that the most I’ve interacted with her was our argument.”

“Siblings fight.” He’d watched Genevieve and Christian bicker and snipe at each other their whole lives.

“True, but an argument isn’t usually the sum total of their history together.” He leaned forward to stroke along the side of Bariq’s head. “I came at her like a prince, not a brother.”

If only Elias could remember to come at Kelsey as a bodyguard, and not a man who desired her. Because he’d sure as hell forgotten his place, his duty to her, and his country in the summerhouse.

“You can’t be both all the time. Sometimes a choice has to be made.”

“Damn it, I want to be her brother. I want to throw duty and caution to the wind and just get to know her.”

If only the prince knew exactly how much Elias echoed those sentiments. He still couldn’t pin down what had made him say the hell with duty. To risk so much by kissing Kelsey…again.

The first time had been an accident, a mistake. One he knew should not be repeated.

The second time? Definitely not an accident. Definitely a conscious choice to act on the lust churning through him. A choice to act, to make her smile, to give her a distraction.

To give her himself.

Which wasn’t really a gift that he could give. Because Elias belonged to the Crown. He’d made that vow to his liege lords, to his father, and to himself. The country, the House of Villani—that was where his allegiance lay. He had no right to carve off a portion of himself to give to Kelsey. The royal family deserved 100 percent of him.

As did Kelsey.

And as much fun as their interlude in the summerhouse had been, he was wracked with regret. Not for the actions themselves, but for the lack of a clear path forward for the two of them.

If she returned to America, they had no future. His life was pledged to Moncriano. If she stayed, embraced her role as princess? They still had no future. He could never have a real relationship with a royal, let alone turn his back on his duty to House Villani when they’d trusted him to keep the princess safe.

But facts didn’t stop the want.

Elias, too, removed his helmet to enjoy the feel of the summer sun warming his head. “I’ve worked up those talking points for you to use with her. Maybe try them at the next meal you share. That is, if you’re not too nervous to sit down with her one-on-one?”

“Is that a challenge? Damn it, Eli, you know I can’t turn down a challenge.”

Bariq snickered his displeasure at the stillness, so Christian and Elias began a slower trot back toward the stables.

“Indeed I do. I also know the princess is perhaps as eager to get to know her brother Christian, rather than His Highness Prince Christian. So stop being a coward and talk to her.”

“You know I could have you arrested for calling the heir to the throne a coward.” Christian frowned. It was probably an attempt to channel the death glare that King Julian used when displeased, but that sort of overkill never worked on Elias. He knew the prince too well to be intimidated by him.

Instead, he pushed right back. “Yes, but then you’d have to make public the reason why I insulted you. Which would simply highlight your yellow-bellied cowardice all the more.”

“You’re an ass.” Christian gave him the finger to drive the point home.

“I’m your best friend. Pretty sure that’s in the job description. Be an ass when nobody else will dare push back at you.”

“Can I demote you to a bodyguard for the rest of this ride?”

Elias snorted. He tried that gambit at least once a week. “No. Here’s my first idea of what you can ask the princess: What sort of music do you listen to?”

“Isn’t that a basic club pickup line, one that should be screamed over a techno funk beat while flailing your arms and holding a plastic cup of beer?”

“Holy shit. Is that really one of your lines?” Elias’s laughter echoed off the cliff wall beside them. They could follow the stream at its base all the way to the edge of the palace grounds. “Christ, it’s a good thing you’re the heir to the throne and can get women with your title alone.”

“It works.” Christian paused to let Bariq drink from the clear water. “But I don’t think it’ll work with Kelsey. What else have you got?”

“Where do you stand on the ramifications of globalization?”

“Am I trying to get to know my sister, or am I at a global economic conference trying to convince a bunch of foreign ambassadors I know my ass from a hole in the ground?”

“If you don’t want to do small talk, I thought you could try and get a feel for her worldview.”

“You suck at this. Did you lift that last one from my trade meeting in Croatia last month?” Christian asked.

Actually, yes. He’d forgotten about his promise to come up with talking points for Christian until last night because 1) it was stupid that the man was scared to talk to his own sister, and 2) he’d been all in his head thinking about Kelsey nonstop.

It was the first time he’d ever come close to forgetting to carry through on a request by the prince. Which proved that getting in any deeper with the princess was a dumb, horrible, idiotic risk to take. Equally horrible for both his career and his friendship.

“Of course not.” He lifted one shoulder. “Maybe I remembered something like it.”

“You suck at this,” Christian said flatly.

“Well, I’m not in your communications department. I’m the hired muscle. I can kill a man with my bare hands. Reassemble a weapon in four-point-five seconds. Defuse seven kinds of bombs.”

“So a limited skill set, then. Remind me of this during your next performance review.”

“Now who’s being an ass?”

Christian laughed. “This feels good. The fresh air, bullshitting with you. Not worrying about which courtiers are hovering about trying to overhear our conversation. We should do this more often. We used to.”

“Yes.” Elias missed that freedom, too. But neither of them got to put their own wishes and desires first anymore. The good of Moncriano came first now. Always. “Back before you fully assumed all the duties and responsibilities of the Crown Prince of the Realm.”

“Fuck.” Christian sounded almost as frustrated as Elias. “I’m not even thirty. I’m too young to have such a regimented life. I want to be able to go for a ride more than once a week. To not feel like I’m playing hooky to hang out with my best friend. To not have to work through two sets of schedulers in order to simply have a conversation with my sister.”

The simplicity, the ease of the ride when weighed against Christian’s complaints gave Elias an idea. “What about a vacation?”

“You know everything is on lockdown until this vote on joining the European Union is behind us. No unofficial trips for us. No fun.”

“I’m well aware.” The king’s private secretary himself had laid down the law in that regard. And in a belts-and-suspenders move, had made sure to alert the security details for the entire royal family of the fact. As if they were supposed to barricade them in their rooms if a fun getaway was mentioned. “But after. After everything shakes out, one way or the other in a few weeks. What if you all got away?”

“The whole family? Aunts and uncles and cousins? It’d be a circus, and probably break the budget.”

“No. Not the hangers-on.” The string of barely related bootlickers that circled the court were as numerous as the pine trees in the forest around them. “Just you, Genevieve, Kelsey, and the king. A forced bonding experience. Like boot camp.”

“We don’t go away as a family. Not ever. All of that shut down once Valentina…I mean, Kelsey disappeared. No group travel that included the heir and the spare, for safety’s sake.”

How messed up was this life they led that a family of four couldn’t go on vacation together?

“What’s the use of being in charge of the country if you can’t occasionally screw the rules?” That’s what he said, anyway. To lighten Christian’s pissy mood. What Elias meant was that he’d turn the entire Royal Protection Service inside out to pull this off, if he got the okay. “We’d keep you safe. And keep it under the radar. What if you went to the Seychelles, or hell, even hiking in New Zealand?”

“Can you imagine the look on Genevieve’s face if we told her we were going hiking for a week?”

She wore heels everywhere. Even with all the time he spent in the private royal apartments, he hadn’t seen her barefoot in the palace in at least a decade. Casual was not Genevieve’s style. “Yeah, that might’ve been an overshoot. But lounging around in a bikini on a yacht is her speed. Lots of opportunity to talk or not, just be a family. No courtiers. No photo ops. Totally off the grid.”

“The idea has merit. The Villani family road trip.” Christian threw him a lightning fast grin. “Papa will probably laugh himself silly when I suggest it.”

“Perhaps, but I’m sure he’ll see the value in it. And, ah, I’d suggest it sooner rather than later.”

“Why?”

“The only way this works—the whole slotting Kelsey into this foreign, weird-to-her situation—is if you give the princess roots in Moncriano. And roots mean family to her.” She’d commented at least half a dozen times about not managing to speak to her parents yet. Probably twice as many that he hadn’t heard. Her closeness to Mallory was evident from the get-go.

“We welcomed her back into the family in the throne room. We said the words. She is a part of the royal family.”

There Christian went, thinking with his title instead of his heart again. “Actions speak louder than words. If you and the king present her with a plan for this trip, it would be proof you don’t just see her as the missing princess. As a body to prop up the tiara. Proof you see her as a daughter, a sister, whom you want to be with on a very personal level.”

“Well said. Food for thought, for sure. I’m promoting you back to best friend status.” Christian looked up to the vista of snow-capped mountains that would still be tinged with white through the summer. “How much of a flight risk do you think she is?”

Talk about a loaded question.

He’d barely been able to get Kelsey out of America. The situation hadn’t exactly improved since landing in Moncriano. She wasn’t getting the warm and fuzzies from the family. She chafed at the restrictions that came with her sudden royal status. Her days were being filled with lessons and lectures and not a single thing to show her how wonderful his country was.

Elias had no doubt that Kelsey would honor her promise to stay for two weeks. But the chance of her embracing her title, her new country, and staying past that? He sure as hell wouldn’t put his own money on those odds.

No matter how much he wanted her to stay. For the sake of his country. For the sake of Christian and his family.

And, selfishly, for himself.

None of which he’d say to Christian.

“It’s too early to predict. She’s being bombarded, immersed in a life and a culture that she didn’t choose. If we go to a restaurant and I order you salad, when you’ve had your heart set on a juicy steak all day…would you be excited to eat the salad?”

“No, of course not. God, that’s the saddest metaphor I’ve ever heard. You’re saying that I’m salad? Fuck, Eli. I’ve got to be filet mignon wrapped in bacon and chocolate cake for Kelsey to want to stay. Now I get it. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Elias seized the opening he’d been waiting for. Obviously her part-time job teaching computer design at a high school was over, no matter what. But her other job didn’t have to be. After checking to be sure the rest of the security detail was still out of hearing distance behind them, he said, “I’ve got an idea about that. What if you tell her that she can keep her job?”

“Impossible.”

“No, hear me out. She could do it under a false name. We’d announce she was quitting, but at the same time her company could bring in a ‘replacement’ for her.” He looped the reins around his wrist to lift both hands to make finger quotes. “‘Amalia Winterhooven’ could take over her roster of clients. We’d set up a series of email server hops so that nothing could be traceable back to Moncriano, let alone the palace. She’d have the freedom to still pursue her passion.”

The idea had come to him once they left the summerhouse. Who could blame Kelsey for not wanting to give up what she’d trained for, dreamed of, gave her a reason to get up in the morning? What father, what brother, would deprive her of that if there was an alternative?

Christian’s dark blond eyebrows squiggled up and then together. He looked down as they traversed a rocky slope. It took him a full five minutes of mulling before stating, “Being a princess is a full-time job.”

“Not necessarily. Everything about Kelsey breaks the rules. Why not bend this one? The country’s managed without a second princess for twenty-five years. Other countries let the sixth or seventh in line to the throne have full careers that aren’t even secret.”

“She’s not that far down the line of succession. She’s third in line.”

Now Christian was just grasping at straws, because he would be king. Not for decades, probably, but the crown would go to him. “Not for long. I’ve heard the king pressuring you to wed. And by wed, I mean pop out a string of heirs.”

Bariq startled at something in the bushes. Or he simply reared up because he’d channeled Christian’s distaste for discussing his inevitable marriage. “He’s made his feelings known on the subject. As have I. You know I’m not going to put up with being pushed into a marriage simply to propagate. I’m not a stallion, extending the bloodline.”

“You rather are. It’s in the job description, as I recall.” Which had been fun to laugh about as teens. That being prince required Christian to have sex. But as they matured and sussed out the full impact of being expected to marry and have kids no matter what—well, it stopped being even a little bit funny.

“And you’re demoted down to just bodyguard again. If I won’t marry to get Father off my back, I certainly won’t do it so that my sister can live her dream life.”

“Even if she did it part-time, it could be that olive branch that gets her to consider staying.”

The fact that the idea of Kelsey remaining in Moncriano made him smile was just a side effect. Not selfish at all.

“I do hear you.” And then Christian shot him a sideways glance that seemed to have already seen too much. “I hear Kelsey’s happiness seems to be your top priority.”

Damn it. Of all the times for Christian to suddenly be perceptive. So Elias deflected, fast. “Would you rather have a part-time princess, or one who pops back to America for good?”

“Look, even if I see the merit in what you’re saying…” Christian sighed. “Maybe in a few years, once things have settled down, but to do it now? It’s impossible. The situation is too volatile. Both that of the country and her potential danger.”

Shit.

Christian was dead-on with his assessment. Elias had blanked on the biggest reason why they needed to keep everything the princess did streamlined. Because her happiness did not get to be the number one consideration. Not for him. Not when her very life could be at stake.

He’d put what was good for Kelsey ahead of what was good for the country. And in doing so, he’d completely overlooked the most important part of his job.

Protecting her.

“You’re right. Guess that’s why you get to be our Supreme Leader one day,” Elias said, making sure to frost the words with about an inch of sarcasm. That mostly covered up the equally thick layer of guilt now weighing him down.

“Have you told Kelsey yet? That as soon as she’s revealed to the world as the missing Princess Valentina that she’ll potentially be in danger?”

“You mean tell her the kidnappers might be drawn out and try again? Since they obviously failed the first time?” Elias tilted his head side to side, cracking his neck. It did nothing to relieve the tension. “Uh, that’d be a no. She’s gotten enough sucker punches. I thought I’d wait to scare the crap out of her until she came around to trusting at least one other person in this country.”

“But you will tell her?”

The urgency in Christian’s voice had nothing to do with a strategic timeline to roll out the bad news. No, Elias saw right through him to the heart of the issue. “You mean so you don’t have to?”

“I was hoping you’d, you know, offer.”

“You’re scared? You’re pulling the ‘I delegate what I don’t want to do’ scam?”

“How’s this? If you do, I’ll have them saddle Bariq for you next time instead of that trail turd you’re riding now.”

Elias had always planned to break the news to Kelsey about her danger. But if hedging a little got him a ride on that magnificent beast, he’d turn the guilt-screw a little bit more. “You’re bribing me to piss off and/or scare your sister?”

“Rather than do it myself? You bet.” Christian pulled on the reins, and both their mounts stopped at the edge of a clearing. One that let them see just how far back the rest of the security detail was. The prince glanced over both shoulders. Then he leaned sideways in the saddle toward Elias.

“Have you told her about her, ah, adoptive parents? Christ, I hope they didn’t actually file paperwork to adopt her. That’d be a legal mess.”

“They didn’t. Not that I could find.” A fact that made the elder Wishners all the more suspicious to his eyes.

“So you’re going to tell her that, too? About how we, ah, detained them?”

That was a load of whitewashing. “You mean how we had the local police throw them in jail as suspected abductors before my plane even landed in New York?”

“Yes. That. I’d bet she’ll be more upset about us arresting her parents than the potential danger.”

“I’ll bet that ‘upset’ doesn’t come close to covering it. Dealing with the blowback for you may just earn me my own Arabian racehorse,” he said jokingly.

The fact was that Elias would always do anything and everything the royal family asked of him. After Princess Valentina disappeared, they could’ve thrown his father in jail. Hell, they could’ve executed him for dereliction of duty. Instead, they’d kept him close, kept him on the job. They gave his father not only his life, but respect. And he would forever be in their debt.

The intensity…desperation?…in Christian’s eyes matched the fervor in his voice as he leaned over to squeeze his friend’s arm. “Thank you. No joke, Elias, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

What he wanted was more make-out sessions like this morning. But Elias had a feeling that once he did Christian’s dirty work, kisses would be the last thing on Kelsey’s mind.