Authors: Cheryl Holt
In the months she’d been home, he’d relayed similar warnings, and she’d politely heeded them. Yet if she publically disobeyed him, what could he do?
Well, he couldn’t do anything then and there, but there was likely plenty he could do later. Should she risk it?
She studied the crowd, trying to find a friendly face. It was an engagement party of sorts so people were pretending to be merry, but the gathering wasn’t very cheerful. Various courtiers were delivering wedding gifts, offering felicitations, but Kristof was in a foul mood.
Dmitri had pushed him into matrimony much earlier than he’d intended so the gifts were paltry, the remarks insincere. There were no nobles from foreign lands, no dukes or princes to congratulate him.
Parthenia had an aristocratic class, but few of them had ridden in from their rural estates for the wedding. Since Parthenia was a small country and the weather continued to be mild, it was a horrid snub, and Kristof knew it. As each gift was tendered, he was muttering about the cheap workmanship or the low position of the person who had provided it.
She stared blandly, but in reality she was watching for Nicholas. Isabelle was in her room, under guard and unharmed, but Nicholas was missing. Kristof’s minions had turned the palace upside down hunting for him, but they hadn’t found him, and she was growing alarmed.
Had he run off? Was he hiding in a safe place?
She was anxious to sneak away, to grab her siblings and go, but she’d delayed too long, had ruined any chance to flee. For how smart she was, and how stupid Kristof was, he’d bested her constantly. It was humiliating.
There was a ruckus at the rear of the hall with people whispering and pointing as three men entered. From their traveling clothes and demeanor, it was obvious they were foreigners. Kat assessed them, being a tad dazzled by how tall they were, how handsome, broad-shouldered, and fit. They put the local men to shame.
They marched down the center aisle, and though there had been a line of supplicants waiting to speak to Kristof, they scooted out of the way as the foreigners approached. They exuded that type of power and charisma.
The Sergeant at Arms stopped them and asked their names, then he announced, “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, may I present the Earl of Radcliffe, newly arrived from London, England. He is accompanied by his brothers.”
At hearing
Radcliffe,
Kat’s gaze whipped to the man in the front. His hair was darker and he’d grown a bit of a beard, so he looked very different from the blond, clean-shaven fellow she’d known in Egypt. There was a nasty scar on his cheek that hadn’t been there previously, as if he’d been injured since she’d last seen him, but those blue eyes didn’t lie.
She swallowed down a squeal of astonishment, gripping her chair as tightly as she could so she didn’t leap up and shriek with joy.
Kristof mumbled, “It’s about time some dignitaries paid their respects.”
“Yes,” she calmly replied, though her pulse was pounding in her ears, “isn’t it marvelous that he’s visited?”
“Your Majesty.” Bryce bowed to Kristof, then shifted his attention to Kat. “Princess Morovsky. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”
Kristof tried to appear officious and kingly. “Radcliffe, you say?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. My family seat is located in the north, on the Scottish border. It’s quite a grand residence. Not as grand as your palace, but very fine all the same.”
Kristof nodded his pleasure, thrilled to have a British lord admitting that Parthenia was superior.
Kat was struggling not to gape, not to let any of her excitement show. He had to have come for her, hadn’t he? He had to have come to save her?
A more terrifying notion occurred. What if he was toying with her? What if he had no intention of assisting her? What if he simply wanted her to see that he’d been passing through and didn’t care? Could Fate be that cruel?
“What brings you to our little corner of the world?” Kristof asked.
“My brothers and I have been on business in Rome. We are on our way to England, and we decided to stop in your beautiful country.”
“Yes, it is very beautiful,” Kristof agreed.
“We hear congratulations are in order,” Bryce said.
“Yes, the Princess and I are marrying in three days. I hope you’ll stay and grace us with your presence during the festivities.”
“You’re most kind,” Bryce gallantly stated. “We are gratified by your invitation, and we will do our best to make your nuptials a celebration worth remembering.”
Bryce bowed, his brothers bowed too, and as they backed away, Kat called, “Lord Radcliffe?”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“The dancing is about to begin. Will you honor the court by leading me in the first set?”
Kristof bristled, but he couldn’t refuse to let her proceed or he’d seem petty and jealous. And he’d want Kat to impress a foreign lord. He’d preen about it for weeks.
As to Kat, she couldn’t guess how long or how ably she could maintain the ruse that she didn’t know Bryce, that she didn’t love Bryce, but she had to risk it. She had to get close enough to ask if he was there to help her. If he said he wasn’t, she’d just die.
“I would be most pleased to lead off the dancing.” Bryce grinned at Kristof. “With His Majesty’s permission of course.”
“Oh, of course,” Kristof arrogantly huffed. “Be my guest.”
“I will,” Bryce said.
He and his brothers walked away, and the final courtiers left their gifts. Then the musicians struck up the introductory chords, summoning couples onto the floor. A servant held her chair and another escorted her down to Bryce. They stood at the head of the line.
The music started, and it was a popular country dance. She had no idea if he’d learned the patterns, but he joined in without missing a step. They promenaded down the center, the other couples prancing behind. The men and women separated, circled each other, moved back. She only had a few chances to twirl with him, then the partners would switch.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered as he made the initial turn, but that was all she had time to say.
“Nicholas is with me. He’s safe,” Bryce told her on the next pass.
“Thank goodness.”
Their conversation continued like that, quick snippets as they locked hands and spun around.
“My brothers will protect him with their lives.”
“I’m so relieved.”
“I’m coming for you and Isabelle. Give me a day or two to figure out how.”
“All right.”
“You can’t marry him.”
“I won’t. I can’t.”
“Nicholas has drawn me a map of the palace. Sleep alone tonight.”
“I will.”
“Don’t let any of your women stay in your room.”
“I won’t.”
“Be ready to travel fast. No bags. No nothing.”
“I understand.”
“We will likely leave on the spur of the moment.”
“Fine.”
“Make sure Isabelle knows.”
Then it was over. They separated, and she partnered with the rest of the men down the line until the musicians sounded the last chord, and everyone was breathless and laughing. He bowed to her, and she curtsied, barely glancing at him, pretending they were strangers.
Bryce spoke to Kristof. “Your Majesty, this was a great honor. Your fiancée is beautiful and graceful.”
“Yes, she is. You dance well for an Englishman.”
“When I was a boy, my dancing masters always insisted I should learn—in case I was ever required to dance with a princess. They didn’t want me to embarrass myself.”
The crowd chuckled, and Kristof said, “It’s lucky you minded your masters then.”
“Yes. I’m nothing if not obedient.”
He delivered Kat to a servant, and she was whisked up onto the dais. She sat, and when she dared to gaze out over the hall, he’d faded into the gathered horde, and she couldn’t see him anywhere.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bryce stepped out of a dark stairwell and slipped into a dressing room. He tiptoed over to a door and peeked into a bedchamber.
From the map Nicholas had drawn, he was supposed to be in Kat’s suite, but the interior of the castle was a warren of tunnels and dead ends. If he’d taken a wrong turn, if he awakened the wrong woman, it would very likely be the last idiotic move he’d ever make.
In for a penny, in for a pound…
He crept toward the bed as she sat up and whispered, “Bryce?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
She reached out her hand, and he rushed over and clasped hold, climbing onto the mattress and stretching out on top of her.
Then he was kissing her and kissing her as if they’d never quarreled, as if they’d never been parted a single day. He’d never imagined he’d have an opportunity to embrace her ever again. It was like a dream, a slice of Heaven, and he almost pinched himself to ensure it was really occurring.
“Where have you been?” she asked as they caressed and hugged and kissed some more. “I’ve been waiting for hours. I decided you weren’t coming.”
“There are guards everywhere. I was nearly spotted a dozen times.”
“Am I leaving with you? If guards are patrolling, how will we get me out?”
“It won’t be tonight. I’m still planning things.”
She slumped with dismay, her spirits flagging. “I want to go right now.”
“I know you do, but we have to be careful. We’ll only have one chance to escape, and we have to retrieve Isabelle too.”
He started kissing her again, needing to fill himself up with her and being terrified that—should he botch his rescue—he would never be with her like this in the future.
He touched her everywhere, anxious to imprint her size and shape into his mind so he’d never forget. He reveled in the way she smelled, the way she tasted, in the soft, warm feel of her skin.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For how I treated you that final morning in Cairo.”
“It’s all forgiven, Kat.”
“My companion, Pippa, was spying on me for Kristof, sending him reports.”
“That must be why all those Parthenian fellows were following you.”
“Yes. Kristof insisted we return, but he figured I wouldn’t meekly agree. So Pippa had Nicholas and Isabelle kidnapped in order to force me.”
“My friend, Chase Hubbard, helped her.”
“Was that how it happened?”
“Yes.”
“Last year, after we sneaked away,” she explained, “there were rumors that we’d met with foul play and that Kristof was responsible.”
“I understand why people would think that.”
“He needed us home so he could show everyone we were fine. Pippa claimed if I didn’t comply, he would torture Nicholas and marry Isabelle.”
“Valois told me.” He searched her eyes. “I haven’t seen Miss Clementi anywhere. Have you gotten even with her? I hope you have.”
“I left her on the dock in Alexandria, and we haven’t heard a word about her.”
“Good. Please tell me you’re not feeling guilty or wishing you hadn’t.”
“I haven’t suffered a moment of guilt.”
Bryce grinned. “That’s my girl.”
“I was afraid I’d upset you too much, and you wouldn’t come after me.”
“Not come after you! Are you joking?”
“I watched for you every minute. I constantly studied the road behind us, but when I never saw you back there, I thought I’d wrecked everything and you didn’t care about me anymore.”
“For about one second, I was convinced that was the case. Then I realized you must have been coerced into being so horrid to me.”
“I’m so relieved.”
“I would have arrived immediately, but it took me awhile to leave Cairo. I had a bit of…difficulty.”
She traced the scar on his cheek. “How did you get this?”
He stared for a lengthy interval, remembering that evil period when he’d been a captive, when he’d been flogged and starved and so dreadfully ill. If Valois and Chase hadn’t rescued him, he couldn’t imagine where he’d be. Most likely deceased from the fever and infection that had nearly killed him.
But he wouldn’t admit any of it. Maybe he would in the future, but not now. Now it would only give her more to worry about, and he wanted her focusing on their escape and naught else.
“I had a fight with a brigand,” he lied. “He managed a quick swipe with his sword before I repaid him.”
She smiled, apparently believing the falsehood. “Tell me he ended up in worse shape than you.”
“Oh, he was definitely in much worse shape.”
She sighed. “My dashing hero. I’m so lucky that you became my champion.”
“I’m a fool for love, Katarina.”
“Do you still love me, Bryce?”
“So much that I’m dying with it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
“I seem to bring an awful lot of trouble with me wherever I go.”
He chuckled. “You certainly do.”
“Are you positive I’m worth it?”
He peered down at her, and she was so beautiful, the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.
When he’d initially departed England, he’d been adrift and dissatisfied, with no goals or ambition. After learning about the crimes committed against his parents, he’d felt as if he was wasting his life, as if he was engaged in frivolous pursuits that were beneath the son of Anne and Julian Blair.
He’d been desperate to reinvent himself, to be a better person, a better man, and he’d discovered his purpose.
He would love Katarina Webster Morovsky. He would sweep her away to safety, would marry her and live happily ever after. He would take her and her siblings to Radcliffe. They would build a family, would fill the halls with the giggles and running feet of boisterous children.
They would revive the drafty, haunted place, would make it the home it should have been for Bryce and his siblings.
“I’m positive you’re worth it, Katarina.”
But suddenly it dawned on him that he was ready to implement those plans, but he hadn’t asked her opinion. Did she want what he wanted? Was she interested in remaining with him as his bride?
If she wasn’t, he’d help and protect her from her cousin, but he would be crushed if she’d changed her mind.
Tentatively he inquired, “Are you still willing to marry me?”
“Me!” She appeared stunned by the question. “Are
you
willing? After how I hurt you?”