The Improperly Pregnant Princess. Jacqueline Diamond
the wrong place at the wrong time, the police had said.
Desperately missing his mother, Shane had hated both of his foster homes. He’d run away repeatedly, until he was placed in a group home.
There he saw the other boys picking on shy Ed and sprang to his defense. From then on, Shane stuck around to protect his friend.
Why was he dragging up memories that he’d sworn to leave untouched? he wondered. It must have been CeCe’s mention of children.
Still, he was sorry to have left their conversation unfinished. After making his excuses to Amy and Janet, Shane turned to his computer.
His office and DeLacey Shipping had recently installed equipment to allow videoconferencing. It was time to put it to good use.
KING EASTON DOZED DURING the nine-hour flight from Korosol to New York. He was grateful for the comforts of a private jet, although there was a lot to say for the old days when luxury liners were the transatlantic transport of choice.
He and his bride, Cassandra, had traveled to America by ship a few years after the death of Easton’s father, King Cyrus. They’d combined business of state with their honeymoon.
Although Cassandra claimed to feel awkward in public, she became a darling of the press with her fashionable figure and ready wit. Easton had enjoyed his meeting with President Truman and had retained a fondness for the United States ever since.
He missed Cassandra terribly. Wise and well educated, she’d been his closest friend and adviser. Had she been born a generation later, she would surely have pursued a career of her own.
Her death six years ago had devastated the king, although in a way it came as a blessing after a series of strokes. If he could have spared her any suffering by taking it on himself, he would have.
He’d have given his life to save either of his dead sons, as well. Twenty years ago, he’d shared his grief with Cassandra when Drake died in the crash of a private plane. It had also killed Drake’s father-in-law and seriously injured his nephew Markus, who’d been in America on holiday.
Easton remembered how Byrum and Sarah had posted a vigil by their son’s hospital bed, and how joyfully they’d brought the fifteen-year-old home to Korosol. It was almost beyond belief that their beloved son had had a hand in their deaths, yet Easton couldn’t discount the rumors.
Troubled, he gave up trying to sleep and called for a meal. A short time later, the flight arrived in New York.
While Harrison Montcalm and Cadence St. John went directly to the embassy, two helicopters fetched Easton, his bodyguards and his secretary to the roof of an apartment building overlooking Central Park. He was impressed all over again by the vast stretch of greenery marking the heart of the metropolis.
“All cities should have a refuge like this,” Cassandra had declared. Easton wished, achingly, that she was with him now.
“We’re so high up!” Ellie Standish said as the helicopter’s motor fell silent.
“Do you think we should build skyscrapers in Korosol la Vella?” teased the king. His country’s capital city had its share of modern buildings, but none this tall.
“Absolutely not!” Ellie pushed her glasses up on her nose and smoothed out her skirt. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about my home.”
At twenty-six, the young woman had all the makings of a knockout, with her bright blue eyes and long, curly brown hair, but she hid beneath frumpy clothes. That suited Easton fine. Otherwise, some young fellow was likely to fall in love with his secretary and snatch her away.
“Please stay here, Your Majesty, while we secure the area,” said Devon Montcalm, the captain of the Royal Guard.
“Certainly,” Easton said.
Since his daughter-in-law’s two-story penthouse apartment was already guarded, it took only a few minutes for Devon to make contact with her security chief and reassure himself as to the arrangements. Then he and the other guards escorted the king across the roof and down a private elevator.
Easton declined Devon’s offer of his arm for support. The king had no intention of appearing as an invalid.
He found his heart beating faster as the elevator halted. It was exciting to meet the granddaughters he hadn’t seen since they were children. Especially the one who, he hoped, held the future of his kingdom in her hands.
The doors opened on a marbled foyer. What an elegant place, Easton thought, noting the two-story-high ceiling and the curving staircase to his right.
“Your Majesty!” He would have recognized Charlotte DeLacey Carradigne anywhere. The tall, slim woman in the designer suit had hardly aged in twenty years.
She curtseyed gracefully. Easton caught her hand and pulled her up. “My dear, you look splendid,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t waited so long to pay you this visit.”
“You’re as handsome as ever. So much like Drake.” She flashed him a smile tinged with sadness. After so many years, he could see that she still mourned her husband. “You look a little pale. Was it a long flight?”
“Long enough,” he said. “And a colder winter than usual in Korosol. Charlotte, let me introduce my secretary, Eleanor Standish. She’s not staying here, but she’ll make sure my room’s settled the way I like it.”
“Of course.”
The housekeeper appeared as if by magic and whisked Ellie away. “Have the guards bring the suitcases to suite A,” he heard her say, and then he was alone with his daughter-in-law.
“Where are the girls?” Easton asked.
“Waiting in the Grand Room, right across the gallery.” Charlotte clasped her hands together. “That is, Amelia and Lucia are here, and CeCe’s on her way.”
The king felt a twinge of irritation at this tardiness. “Cecelia isn’t waiting for me?”
“She’s monitoring a severe storm in the Pacific that could impact a couple of our ships,” Charlotte explained. “Your granddaughter takes her duties very seriously.”
“That’s a good sign,” Easton said, his annoyance soothed, as they crossed a long corridor hung with paintings and large photographs.
“A good sign?” asked his daughter-in-law.
“We’ll get to that,” the king said.
COMMUNICATIONS FROM DeLacey’s ships in the storm area had been disrupted. Despite all their satellites, international weather sources couldn’t pinpoint the storm’s latest activity.
“What good is all this technology, anyway?” CeCe moaned, leaning back in her chair. Since she was alone in her office, no one answered.
The morning had been filled with one frustration after another. Her mother had called twice to urge her to get home before the king arrived. And, in truth, there was little CeCe could do to help her valiant captains, other than validate any decisions they made.
Still, she felt obligated to stick it out. At least this way, if a decision was made that derailed scheduling and angered a client, CeCe would take the blame on herself. It seemed only fair.
A beep from the computer startled her. For a moment, she couldn’t remember what that meant.
Puzzled, she minimized the maritime weather page so it disappeared from the screen. Instantly, it was replaced by the grinning face of Shane O’Connell.
“You can see me, but I can’t see you,” he said. “Turn your video on!”
CeCe had made so little use of the videoconferencing program that she’d almost forgotten it was installed. Annoyed and intrigued at the same time, she straightened in her chair and finger-combed her bangs. Then she clicked on Send Video.
Shane’s grin broadened. “Hey, you look pretty darn good for a digital