Claimed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 3 (8 page)

“But he was alive.” Cyril’s eyes had widened. “He survived the initial crash.”

“He was alive. He traded his watch and flask for a boat and food. The boat leaked, but he didn’t seem to care, said he could fix it.”

Cyril snorted. “Sounds like Ari.”

“Agreed. He was sure he didn’t need to go far, which points to some lucidity. The island is not far from the mainland. He did not appear to have money but the dealer couldn’t swear to that. His clothes were ragged and torn and not of good quality.”

Cyril frowned. “Not of good quality.”

“Yes. Which means he’d encountered someone else first, before going to the dealer. Whether he did that intentionally to dress down for the sale of his goods or not, I don’t know.” Stefan paused. “According to his own testimony, the dealer suspected that something was wrong with the scenario, but took the deal. He sat on the watch for about six months before our fisherman visited him, saw the watch, and bought it from him. The dealer kept the flask. He gave it to me today.”

Stefan reached into his bag and pulled the flask free, holding it up to the camera. “Seal was here.” He said, pointing. “Looks maybe burned, then defaced. But it’s Ari’s.”

“A year ago. Directly after he crashed.” Cyril blew out a breath. “No sightings since?”

“None. The Turkish mainland is populated all along that coast, but there is a significant park due east of here. If that was his target, he could potentially survive there for a short time. That park is also known for smugglers and merchant bands, however, so it makes his whereabouts thereafter more problematic.

“You can go there?”

“We can. Nicki has taken enough footage to add veracity to her story of an adventure reporter. But the trail grows more complicated from here. We can dispatch the men to follow up on leads, but our time in Alaçati is short. We can’t draw too much attention.”

“Then we create a foothold and continue the search another way.” Cyril nodded. “Go—go to where you most think Ari would have landed, if he wanted to avoid people. We’ll send another team to follow up if you think there’s a possibility.”

“We’ll be there in a few hours, and drop anchor overnight,” Stefan said. “We’ll enter the city tomorrow morning.”

He and Cyril spoke on for a few more minutes, while Nicki’s mind churned with possibilities. As usual, Stefan’s report had been bland, matter of fact. But the information he’d dropped had been nothing but ordinary.

Prince Ari hadn’t died in the fiery wreck as everyone had feared. He had—at least for a little while—survived and had had the wherewithal to get himself a boat and food. Where had he gone from there, though? Eventually someone would have recognized him, or at least recognized his value. Why hadn’t anyone notified the royal family? Whether for ransom or out of goodwill?

Nicki stared at the small, unassuming flask.

If Ari was alive…where was he?

Stefan cut communications with Cyril, then swiveled toward Nicki. Her gaze lifted from the flask.

“Do you think it’s possible he’s out there, somewhere?” she asked. “Still alive after all this time?”

He realized with a start that he didn’t have to lie to her or couch his words in any way, and the awareness was remarkably…refreshing. Nicki didn’t want an answer she could use as a shield or a tool. She simply wanted information to act more intelligently. Information to her was power, but not for playing diplomatic games.

“No,” he said, honestly. “It’s most likely that he made it the mainland and was ambushed in his weakened state, robbed and killed, his body dumped or buried. The fact that he survived the crash is a victory for the royal family. The fact that his mind was apparently damaged will be a source of endless despair for Queen Catherine. So it’s a trade off, and not necessarily a good trade off.”

Nicki nodded. “She’ll want to know though.”

“She’ll want to know. And then she’ll be furious that she knows, and that she’s not doing more to get all the other answers she so desperately desires. So Cyril will hold off on telling King Jasen for as long as possible, at least that part of it. Once the king knows, it’s inevitable that Catherine will find out.”

Nicki’s expression was wry, and he found himself wondering about her parents, back in the US. The dossier had been scant—they were both alive, and there was a brother, too, he was almost certain.

He decided to press the point. “You smile as if you know the type,” he said. “Do your parents have a similar relationship?”

“My parents?” she blinked at him. “Ah—no. They’re good people, but they’re both a little too wrapped up in their own worlds to pay too much attention to each other’s.”

She spoke the words without heat, or even much sadness. When she noted his surprise, she shrugged. “That’s probably unfair. I haven’t been home for months, between work and the travel for work. But either way, for Mom to see through Dad would involve them talking, and they don’t do a lot of that—or they didn’t used to. With my brother out of the house finally, maybe they do.”

He remembered a brother from the dossier. “He’s graduated college?”

“Not yet, but he’s at least in the dorm building there.” She grimaced. “He couldn’t imagine leaving home to go to school, while I couldn’t wait to get out. I guess it’s part of being a girl.”

“A girl who likes to climb mountains and enter windsurfing competitions.”

“A very specialized girl, then.” Nicki laughed, and Stefan felt a surge of awareness shiver through him. He stood. Tomorrow they would be in Alaçati, no matter what the stopover at the park would net them. They’d be surrounded by people. Today remained bright and full, filled with possibility, and there was the smallest chance that a man the whole country had mourned was alive and healthy. For this moment, the entire ocean was at their feet.

“Come,” he said. “We’ll be setting off soon, but there’s time for another swim.”

“Can’t,” she said ruefully. She pointed to the camera. “I need to cut that video into some vlogs and prepare posts with the images from the camera.” She hesitated. “You could—help, if you wanted?” she asked. “If you’re not too busy?”

He let his own smile break open wide, the expression still foreign on his face. “I should like that very much.”

The vlog editing and internet posting process took longer than he anticipated they would, and the yacht was prepared for departure and well underway to the parklands outside of Alaçati before Nicki finally sat back from her computer screen. They had half a dozen posts uploaded to apparently enthusiastic response, and more prepared for uploading overnight and the next day. Others were nearly finished should they have a need for more filler shots of “generic deserted island getaway.”

Now Nicki’s stomach growled audibly, and she smacked her hand over her abs. “Sorry,” she said, but he shook his head.

“You’ve more than earned a meal. While you were busy ensuring that we have done all that we need to shore up our bona fides, I’ve arranged to have dinner sent to my state room. There’s a private deck there with an excellent view.”

She lifted her brows. “You’re inviting me back to your room? It’s only six o’clock.”

He smiled back, more than willing to put her at ease. “We do things differently in the Mediterranean.”

Dinner was served less than an hour later, accompanied by white wine in sturdy glasses. The yacht had cut its speed to bare cruising level, and the wind curled deliciously over the deck as they neared the lush green coastline of Turkey. “How close can we get?” Nicki asked. “Are there laws for that I assume?”

“There are. The Turkish coast guard has been notified of our arrival and our guest manifest. We’ve provided links to your posts in the spirit of full cooperation. That and the fact that the online response has been positive has served us well.”

“Yeah?” she brightened. “I haven’t really been paying attention to the traffic. It’s been good?”

“It’s been good and it’s been expressive of the beauty of the Turkish seaside. The comments of surprise have been met with tourists speaking up, those who have visited before all the current unrest, sharing their travel stories about the country. Cyril has been in touch with the Turkish ministry of culture and tourism, and they’re taking note. It’s an excellent way to strengthen our cover.” He lifted his glass to her. “I was wrong to make light of your work,” he said. “You are good at it, and it has proven very valuable.”

“Oh,” Nicki said. “Thanks.” She smoothed her fingers over her napkin for about the fifteenth time, creating a crease in the perfectly folded fabric.

“What will you do next, when all this is done and you return home?” he asked, eyeing her. She seemed unreasonably nervous around him, more so than when they’d been on the mainland together.

“Ah—well, I really don’t know. I am starting to see good money for my adventure articles. Not change-your-life money, but at least something that makes me think it will be worthwhile to pursue for a little bit. My parents want me to come back to Indianapolis—” Her lip curled. “But that doesn’t interest me at all. There’s too much of the world out there left to see, you know?” As soon as she said the words, she looked like she wanted to take them back. “Well, of course you know. You may be living in the middle of a fairy tale kingdom, but I bet you travel all over the place.”

Stefan nodded. “I frequently travel with the royal family, or serve as an envoy if they’re not able to attend certain functions,” he said. “There is a certain luxury in having a place to call home, though.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Nicki shrugged, playing with the glass of wine. “I guess if I travel around for a few more years, maybe I’ll get tired of it. Then I’ll think about settling down.” She made a face. “As long as it’s not Indianapolis. My mom’s bad enough with asking me every other week if I’ve found someone nice. If I lived across the city from her, she’d be on my doorstep.”

He considered her statement, and the opportunity it provided him. Had she deliberately opened that door? He couldn’t help walking through it. “And you haven’t found someone nice, I take it.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t really attract nice,” Nicki said with a quick smile. She took another drink of her wine. “The men I tend to attract are hunting for a climbing buddy, not a girlfriend. And I can climb plenty of mountains with other people. Those who do say they want to settle down mean mainly that they want someone else to be the adult while they go off and still play.” She shrugged. “And I’m every bit as bad. This job of travel blogger isn’t exactly upwardly mobile. The moment I have an accident or get tired, there’s someone else out there who can do it every bit as well, and at a lower price. So I think I’ll find a real job before I worry too much about finding a real boyfriend, you know?”

Stefan watched her as she spoke, turning all the information around in his mind. She was single in every sense of the word, unmoored from either place or person. He already had the sense that she would rather fling herself off a cliff than build a house on one, and the image amused him. He suspected she wasn’t telling him everything, but that was okay. First off, he didn’t truly need to know. Secondly, they had time.

In fact, if he had any say in the matter, they would have lots of time during the remainder of this trip to get to know each other…starting now.

Chapter Seven

Nicki sat back in her chair and watched the sun dropping lower over the horizon. She’d been to Turkey before, of course. This exact location, less than a year earlier. But she hadn’t come here via private yacht, she’d come by economy plane, and she’d stayed in a quaint hotel that had shared bathrooms down the hallway.

Viewing the country from the deck of freaking a royal yacht was definitely a step up in the world.

She knew that Stefan was watching her, but for once, the prospect of his attention didn’t fill her with nervousness or doubt—merely excitement. And not the excitement of cliff diving either. Or not exactly. The jump was the same, sure…but she knew she’d be totally safe at the bottom of the drop. Maybe she wouldn’t be the second time she stepped into the open air, but this time…yes.

The thought made her twist her lips ruefully. Her one-time-only preference was really less of a rule than what had become the natural order of things, but it seriously worked for her. She scared off most men before they got to the first kiss, though that clearly hadn’t been a problem with Stefan. The rest of the few men she’d kissed she’d never really cared to see again, but those she did—after the second time, that was it. Sometimes the decision was mutual, sometimes the guy simply drifted away. Most of the time she distanced herself—usually, by heading off on a new adventure living halfway around the world. Her heart was unpredictable, and she would not—could not—endure the expression on someone’s face when they learned that she had an off-the-charts risk factor that had nothing to do with her next snowboarding run.

But Stefan had a built-in failsafe. First off, he was a highly placed component of a freaking royal family. Secondly, he was clearly filling time between real girlfriends. Thirdly, he—

His amused voice cut across her thoughts. “Do I want to know what you’re thinking?”