The Unlawfully Wedded Princess. Kara Lennox
Palemeir hadn’t called for much in the way of manners.
“Who are these cute little munchkins?” CeCe asked, her adoring gaze focused on the children.
“I’m Jakob,” the little boy said proudly. “Jakob Standish!”
The corner of Nick’s mouth lifted at the mention of his own surname tacked onto Jakob’s. The last time Amelia had seen them, Jakob had not been at all sure he wanted to go anywhere with large, gruff Nick, much less accept him as his father. Things must have improved a great deal since then, and all without her assistance. Certainly the children looked better. Jakob’s light brown hair had been cropped close, much like Nick’s, and his blue eyes sparkled with health. He’d gotten some color, too, and a few more freckles on his nose from being out in the sunshine. Josie’s hair, which had been dull and matted in Palemeir, was now a halo of shiny, golden curls.
Amelia felt a pang of regret that she hadn’t been part of this almost miraculous transformation and that she hadn’t helped the children settle into their new home.
Nick nudged the little girl’s shoulder, urging her forward. “This is Josie.”
Josie, who would be seven now, held out her hand, which still looked far too thin and delicate for Amelia’s peace of mind. “Pleased to meet you,” Josie said to CeCe and Hester with perfect manners, then added in a whisper to CeCe, “Are you really a princess, like Cinderella?”
CeCe laughed. “Well, I don’t have any glass slippers, and I ride to work in a limo rather than a pumpkin, but I did manage to catch myself a pretty good prince.”
Yeah, rub it in, Amelia thought. CeCe would be living out her own private fairy tale here in America while Amelia was whooshed off to a country she hadn’t visited since she was Josie’s age, where she didn’t even speak the native language.
Life wasn’t fair. But then, her work with the ICF had taught her that.
“Josie, you’ve gotten taller. I think you’ve grown a foot since I last saw you,” Amelia said, trying to get the little girl to warm up to her.
“But they both could use some fattening up,” said Hester. “I’ll bet Bernice has some fresh cookies in the kitchen.”
“Splendid idea,” CeCe said.
The children looked up hopefully at Nick.
“One cookie apiece,” Nick said.
Looking delighted, CeCe gave a hand to each. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Traitor,” Amelia muttered. But she would have to speak privately to Nick at some point. He had yet to tell her why he’d come here, and the sooner he did that, the sooner he would leave. And the sooner he left, the less chance she would make a fool of herself by begging him to smile at her again, to stop making her feel she’d done something criminal.
Even if she had.
Nick put his hands on his lean hips. “Are you going to ask me all the way into the royal penthouse, Your Highness?”
“Please don’t call me that,” Amelia said.
“What am I supposed to call you, then? Not Melanie.”
“You and the kids all called me Mellie. That could be short for Amelia, as well.”
“Nicknames are a show of fondness. I use them for friends. Doesn’t apply in this case.”
Well, he certainly had sharpened his tiger’s claws during their separation. But she’d be damned if she showed him how much he could hurt her.
NICK REFUSED to be impressed by the Carradignes’ terrace, where Melanie—Amelia—had led him. Apparently there was a spy in or near the household, someone providing tidbits to the gossip columnist, Krissy Katwell, and Amelia thought there would be less chance of someone overhearing their discussion if they went outside.
He hadn’t read any New York papers, but the Korosol press had gone to town with the story of the princess’s illicit marriage. They’d probably picked up the item from this Krissy person.
Nick had almost fainted when he’d discovered Melanie Lacey was actually Princess Amelia, granddaughter to the king of Korosol. She must have been slumming in Palemeir. Her way of dabbling in charity work. Her little deception had thrown his life into chaos.
Fortunately the rain had stopped. Nick and Amelia sat on opposite ends of a bench in the center of an oasis of trees and shrubs that rivaled Central Park. The greenery sheltered them somewhat from the damp March breeze.
He enjoyed the discomfort reflected on Amelia’s face, her stiff, too-regal posture. He wanted to needle her. He wanted to do more than that, after the hell she’d put him through. Unfortunately, he also wanted to bed her. A year’s separation hadn’t taken the edge off his desire.
A year ago, he’d naively thought a marriage license might afford him that privilege. But once the adoption papers had been filed immediately after their hasty wedding, she’d deserted him.
He wouldn’t trust her again. He’d ask for her help, but this time he’d make sure there were no loopholes.
She looked fantastic, he conceded. He’d been half-afraid she would look different in her princess environment, with her hair tortured into some silly style, maybe wearing a tiara and two pounds of makeup. But she was still just Mellie, a natural beauty who required no enhancement. That tumble of gold curls was as unruly as ever, inviting a man’s fingers to bury themselves in them. Her green eyes still flashed emerald bright, even out of the intense Palemeiran sun. And her body was just as curvy and luscious as he remembered, more tempting in a casual, flower-sprigged dress.
“So what’s going on? Why are you here?” Amelia asked point-blank.
“It’s those do-gooders at the Ministry of Family,” Nick said. “News of our marriage—and that it wasn’t legal—has been picked up in Korosol. The fact you dumped me on our wedding day has brought social workers down on me like a ton of bricks. They say it’s obvious the marriage was a fraud, and so was the adoption. Thanks.”
Amelia gasped. “They want to take the children from you? They can’t!”
“Apparently they can. Korosol isn’t America. There’s not any legal recourse. The Ministry of Family will investigate, and their decision is final.”
“But surely they’ll find you’re a good father. You’re very devoted to those children.”
“How would you know? You haven’t been around for the past year—a fact that hasn’t escaped the social workers’ notice. They say we got married with fraudulent intent, adopting children without ever meaning to live as a family. They’re old-fashioned in Korosol.”
Amelia looked away. “That’s my fault, I suppose. But I couldn’t stay in Palemeir. The ICF wanted me out of there, and I had to do what they said.”
“So you just abandoned your new husband and the children who needed you. Do you have any idea how badly you disappointed Josie?” And him, although he’d shoot himself before he’d admit that to Amelia.
His barb hit its mark. He saw the sheen of tears in her eyes, but she ruthlessly blinked them back. “We both knew the marriage was strictly so you could get the children out of the country,” she said. “Even if it had been legal, it was a sham.”
He intentionally softened his voice. “That kiss at the airport didn’t feel like a sham.”
Amelia’s face turned a flattering shade of pink. She had no ready comeback, and all she could do was look away. He was glad to know that kiss had affected her as it had him. There they’d been, arguing at the Palemeir airport—if one dirt airstrip and a cinder-block terminal could be called that—and suddenly they’d been in each other’s arms. They’d never kissed before, not even at their wedding.
That kiss, long and slow and hot, had been everything Nick had