The Unlawfully Wedded Princess. Kara Lennox
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 fantasized about, and more. He thought he’d won, that he’d convinced her to stay with him. Then he’d realized it was a kiss goodbye.
“I wanted to at least see you and the children to Korosol,” she finally said. “But the children were already getting attached to me. It was better that I left when I did. Surely you can see that.”
All right, maybe she had a point. There had never been any question that the marriage was one of convenience. He and Mellie had been friends—good, close friends, bonding quickly the way people do in adversity—but nothing more, not that he hadn’t wished for more.
They had never discussed a future together, and in fact, what could he have offered her? He was not husband material, and never would be—never again. For that matter, he wasn’t really great father material, either. He was no longer capable of fully opening his heart to a child. But in the last year he’d grown so fiercely protective of those kids that he would die for them. Mellie was right about that. Maybe he didn’t always say the right thing. Maybe he was too strict. But he refused to let anything bad happen to them—including another major disruption in their home life. He would fight the Ministry of Family with every weapon in his arsenal to prevent them from ripping the kids away from him and thrusting them into foster care.
After a few moments, Amelia was more composed. She sat up straighter, and in a brisk tone, said, “I’d like to help with your situation. What can I do?”
“I would think that would be obvious. You’re a princess. Your grandfather is my king, and he’s here. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I know he is still here, that he didn’t return to Korosol after CeCe’s wedding. My sister could never keep secrets from me.” Nick had tracked Eleanor down in New York, and had figured out that if she was here, so was the king.
“So you want me to intercede on your behalf.”
“You get an A.”
She looked uneasy, which he didn’t understand. The request he’d made of her was simple—far simpler than falsifying marriage licenses and adoption papers.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I’ll do what I can, of course. But it’s not as simple as you make it sound. First, I’m not exactly on intimate terms with my grandfather. I barely know him. And second, I’m certainly not among King Easton’s favorites right now.”
“Ah. He doesn’t like it when his princesses make the gossip columns?”
“Exactly. And third, he’s a stickler for following the letter of the law. He doesn’t micromanage his country. Interfering with the Ministry of Family’s normal course of business isn’t his style.”
“You’re saying you won’t even try?”
“No, I’ll give it my best shot. But I think we should see him together, present a united front. It’s the best chance we have.”
Exactly what Eleanor had suggested.
“We should probably bring the children with us, too,” Amelia continued. “It couldn’t hurt for Easton to see you all together, as a family.”
“Let’s do it, then.” He stood up, anxious to get his audience with the king over with. The sooner he got this mess straightened out, the sooner he could get his kids back home to the peace and quiet of Montavi, the little mountain town where he was building a new life for himself and the children. And the sooner he could get away from this woman who’d lied to him but still made him tingle in uncomfortable ways.
Amelia laughed. “We can’t just walk in on him. We’ll have to make an appointment. Fortunately, your sister is the one who can set it up.”
“I’ll talk to her, then.” Hell, he’d pulled Josie out of school for this trip, thinking it wouldn’t hurt her to miss a couple of days of first grade. But now it looked as if she might miss a week or more, and she was already a year behind because of the language problem.
“I’ll show myself out.” He turned and headed toward the terrace doors, wondering where he might find his children in this monstrous penthouse.
“Nick?”
He stopped, turned.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I really was. But not even the ICF knew my true identity back then. If the truth had gotten out, it could have created a security nightmare. Keeping my identity secret is second nature to me. But you’re right, I should have explained before I…before I married you. I didn’t think through the possible repercussions, and I’m truly sorry.”
He was surprised by her candor and seeming sincerity. He’d expected her to be different than he remembered her. A year ago, she’d just been a dedicated volunteer who never complained about physical hardships. He’d even seen her give away her own dinner more than once.
He’d had a hard time reconciling that selfless, friendly woman with a Korosolian princess. But now that he’d seen her again, she seemed much the same as before—a fact that was dangerous to his peace of mind. Saying goodbye to her the first time had been torture. And unless he wanted to go through it all again, he’d better harden his heart.
Chapter Two
Amelia had run out of nails to bite as she, Nick and the children cooled their heels in an anteroom at the Korosol embassy. Her grandfather had agreed to see them the day after Nick’s arrival in Manhattan, but he’d chosen the embassy as the venue, even though it was Saturday. It was less personal than his quarters at the penthouse would have been—not a good sign. He was treating them like any other subject who wanted his time, but King Easton was not one to give preferential treatment to anyone—not even the future queen.
She had worn her best, most dignified outfit—a gray wool suit with a black silk blouse, silver stockings and gray pumps. She’d even made an attempt to subdue her hair into a tame twist, and at CeCe’s urging had actually worn makeup.
Nick, for his part, had cleaned up pretty nicely. He’d been a savagely handsome man back in Palemeir, filling out his camouflage clothes in intriguing ways. His wild, sun-bleached hair, deeply tanned skin and scruffy beard had added to his dangerous image. And Amelia was a sucker for dangerous. She’d always felt smothered by the protective cocoon she’d been raised in—bodyguards, exclusive schools, tinted-windowed limousines. The adventure and excitement of traveling to third world countries under a false identity had held appeal for Amelia as much for the danger as for the chance to help children.
Nick still looked dangerous, but with a sheen of class. He wore a sober suit and tie, the coat taut across his broad shoulders. His hair was a darker blond now, the short, military cut having gotten rid of the sun’s highlights. But that didn’t stop Amelia from wanting to run her fingers through it, something she’d had to resist since meeting him. She could have ill afforded to fall in love with him a year ago, even less so now.
He was clean-shaven, and his tan had mellowed to a burnished gold. His hands looked strong as ever. She could still see them gripped around his old M16 as he ushered the refugee caravan across a dangerous bridge. But his nails were now clean and clipped neatly.
The