King and Kingdom (26 page)

“Since she's your wife—pretend wife—won't Valentina be coming here? We're acting like she won't have any interest in visiting Kallaster Castle.” It made Chey uncomfortable to think Valentina might suddenly decide to come over.

“I knew I would be bringing you here, so I fed her a whole '
I'm redoing parts of the castle to suit you, my love, you're not allowed to set foot on the island until my surprises are finished'
line. Even if she were to come against my command, we would know in advance because plans have to be made ahead of time for the helicopter. She can't move about easily now that she's my 'wife' without someone knowing. In turn,
we'll
know.” He studied her across the desk.

“I see. That's a relief, then. I think it was on my mind before I went to sleep, so I woke up half panicked,” she admitted. “Valentina's never been here before?”

“No. She's never set foot on the island. As far as I'm concerned, she never will.”

“I can't say I'm sorry. I enjoy knowing I'm sharing something with you that she hasn't—and won't.” Chey curled her arms around her middle and returned his searching gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I like that content expression on your face, and how rumpled you look.” He lifted a hand, smile on his mouth, to rub fingers along his freshly shaven jaw.

“You would,” she retorted with teasing accusation in her voice.

He laughed. “That doesn't mean I don't appreciate you decked out in some elegant dress, draped in diamonds. I happen to like this Chey, too.”

“Which is good. Now and then I like to just laze around. Do you ever do that? Besides back at my apartment?” she asked.

“Sometimes. Right now, things are too precarious, as you may imagine. I'm going to fly back to the mainland shortly to meet up with Mattias. You'll be safe here. Explore at your leisure. I should be back before two or three, at the latest.” He uncrossed his arms and closed the folder he'd been working on.

“All right,” she said, agreeing easily to exploration. “You're going to finalize plans to put into motion, then?”

“Or try to. We're close, but like I mentioned before—the timing has to be perfect. There needs to be a specific outcome, or it will all be for naught.” He glanced away from her to the array of windows through the arches. The day beyond was overcast, the threat of more snow on the way.

“What might happen if your plans go awry? Will you be able to divorce Valentina without backlash?” she asked, twisting a look over her shoulder to get a glimpse of the sky. Then she glanced back at Sander. He was still studying the clouds.

“That will happen no matter what. I'm shooting for an annulment. She can suffer the indignity of our country and her country thinking she abstained from our bed while being pregnant with another man's baby.” He grunted, returning his steely gaze to Chey.

“I really hope it works out like you want it to. Is there any chance the King will wrest this away from you?” Chey made a gesture to the castle.

“I hope not. Everyone has considered it mine, as I mentioned, for a long time.” He paused, then reached over to tap the telephone sitting on his desk. “By the way, there are phones like this all over the castle. Press the zero for security, one for the head of housekeeping. And this red tabbed button is the panic button. If you perceive any threat at all, get to a phone and push it. The entire island will lock down and when the security finds you, they'll secure you into one of several safe rooms in the castle.”

Chey leaned forward to see where the red button was. “All right, I got it.” She wouldn't forget.

“The head housekeeper is Mira. She'll see to most everything you might need, unless it's the middle of the night and her relief is on duty. She can point you in the right direction for exploring.” Sander leaned back, hands resting in his lap. “I'm getting us both new phones that only connect to each other. That way no one can tap into my regular line.”

“Great. I'd prefer to have direct access to you if I can.”

“It'll make things easier. Feel free to organize the other half of the closet as you see fit. And make a list of anything you might need that we didn't think of. We can make a shopping run tomorrow or the next day. I'm sure Wynn won't have time to get a delivery off to you by then.” He checked his phone when a message came through. “All right, that's my call. Time to take off.”

“Don't be surprised if I actually follow through with that offer,” Chey said with a sleepy grin. She stood up out of the chair after that, the robe brushing against her ankles. “I'll be waiting. Have a safe trip.”

He snorted as he donned his jacket, picked up the folder, then slid his phone into his pocket. “You're a woman. I expect no less.”

She pinched his ribs once he was within reach. Chey offered her cheek for him to kiss since she hadn't hit the bathroom and a toothbrush yet. “Your mouth is going to get you into big trouble.”

“I hope so.” He dusted her cheek with a kiss, then stepped away. “I'll see you later.” Sander strode out of the office with purposeful strides.

Chey leaned against the chair and watched him go, amazed at the turn her life had taken yet again in the last twenty-four hours. Catching a yawn with her palm, she trundled back to bed and indulged the need for more sleep.

Exploring and organizing could wait.

Chapter Twenty

The more Chey investigated Kallaster Castle, the more she fell in love with it. After a shower and a change into jeans topped by a heavy sweatshirt of white, she'd gone in search of Mira for directions to the kitchens. Mira, in her thirties with blonde hair and pretty green eyes, finally allowed Chey to get her own lunch when Chey assured her that she didn't mind making it.

Expansive and running the same gray stone theme as the rest of the castle, the kitchens were enormous and offered everything a person could want in the way of food preparation. Chey found the makings for salad and a tuna sandwich in one of two oversized refrigerators. It didn't take her long to eat and learn the different rooms of the kitchens. There was a section for pastries and baking, another for grilling and cooking. Then a whole other partition for storage, a wine tasting room and separate large refrigeration units big enough to hold food for a party of five hundred people.

Beyond the kitchens, Chey discovered a hideaway patio covered with trellis overlooking a small garden with foliage that was probably lush and green in the spring. The hallways inside, some furnished more than others, led to medieval looking parlors, sitting rooms and a library with a two story ceiling. All sorts of nooks and crannies could be found near stairs, at the end of hallways and attached to a few of the sitting rooms.

On the upper floors, many open areas sported balconies giving different views of the island. Some faced the mountain peak, others faced the ocean and the bay. After three hours of exploring, she still hadn't seen it all.

Back in Sander's room to await his arrival, she started in on the closet organization, taking him at his word that it was all right to do what she wanted with her 'side'. Or sections. There was more than one wall to mess with. Smaller niches broke off the main closet with more space to hang clothes or arrange other articles, such as scarves, coats and sweaters. It was so different and charming than anything she'd ever done that she completely lost track of time.

“I see you didn't let any grass grow while I was gone,” Sander said behind her.

Chey fumbled the folded sweater she had in her hands and whipped a look over her shoulder. Grinning, she set the sweater on the stone shelf and turned around.

“Of course not. This was too good of an opportunity to waste.” She searched for clues about how his day had gone, but the only difference Chey could define was three buttons on his shirt undone that hadn't been before up near his throat.

He shucked the jacket and walked it to a hanger on his side, then finished undoing the buttons and peeled the shirt from his shoulders. The skin beneath was golden despite the season, muscles rippling whenever he moved. He tossed the shirt into the laundry basket and undid the buckle at his waist.

“Looks like you got most of it organized,” he said with a glance over his shoulder. The belt slithered free. He hung it on a rack with no less than twenty other belts.

“Most of it. There is an apartment room full of space left,” she said, as if he wasn't aware.

He smiled, though it lacked his usual devilish charm.

That was Chey's first indication that his mind was set toward more serious thoughts. She couldn't really blame him. “How did it go with Mattias?” she asked.

Sander bent over to remove his shoes, socks and then his slacks. A pair of black boxer briefs hugged his hips, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Any other time, Chey might have taken advantage of the situation. Or at least tossed a tease his way. Today she remained quiet.

“Three days,” he said. The slacks went the way of the shirt, as well as the socks.

“Three days?” she echoed, frowning. “What's in three days?”

“When we blow this thing wide open.” He glanced at her while he took a pair of jeans from a shelf and put them on. Leaving the zipper down and the button undone, he reached up to rake both hands through his hair, pulling the band free of the tail.

Chey watched the transformation from Prince to rugged Sander with no small amount of appreciation and awe. It was a distant appreciation, however, because the news made Chey's stomach clench.

“How are you going to do it?”

“The King informed us today that he will be officially naming me heir to the throne.” Sander tugged a ribbed sweater the color of slate and slid it over his head.

“I thought you were already the heir?”

“I am, for all intents and purposes. But there are rituals, things to make it official. He'll make a state address, so that there is no guess work for the citizens of the country.” Sander's mouth tightened. He found fresh socks and boots to slide his feet into.

“Why do I have the impression that there's more to the story?” she asked. With each new revelation Sander gave, his demeanor changed, subtly growing darker.

“Because that little bitch went to him and confessed she's pregnant,” Sander retorted, anger edging his voice. “She told him it's mine.”

. . .

It wasn't often Chey heard Sander curse—at least in a language she understood. This time, she echoed the sentiment in her mind. Valentina was going for broke.

“How could she do that?”

“Easy. She told him it happened on that visit I paid her, when we were set up in Italy.” Sander straightened and finally buzzed the zipper up and fastened the button on his jeans.

Chey remembered hearing about that when she'd first arrived in Latvala. The eldest brother had been wooing some woman the Queen wanted him to make his wife. Helina must be gloating for all she was worth.

“Does this change anything?” Chey asked. She couldn't see her way around the complications, wasn't sure how it might affect Sander. Or her.

“It moves the schedule up faster than we wanted, but we'll work with it. The sooner the better, before Valentina pulls something else out of her hat that puts the whole thing in jeopardy.” Sander reached for Chey's hand and led her from the closet, snapping the light out along the way.

Chey followed to the side bar, where he released her to pour himself a drink.

“Want something?” he asked.

“No thanks. I had a whole bottle of water with lunch not too long ago.” Chey swiveled to sit in a nearby chair and pulled a leg up to tuck beneath her.

“Did you decide how you're going to break the news?” she asked then.

“The announcement will be televised. He'll do it from here, since this holding will officially become mine. Once he makes his statements, I'll be expected to step up and make a few of my own. That's when I'll do it.” He knocked back a drink, hissing in the aftermath.

“Oh. On television?” Chey's eyes widened.

“Yes. Mattias is even now coordinating with a producer to play parts of the Valentina tape on cue. It's risky though. Damn. It's very risky.” He licked his lips and leaned a hip against the side table.

“Because you're not sure you can trust the producer?”

“That, and Latvala has not seen a scandal like this in a long time. It's not nearly the scandal some monarchies face, but it's more than I care for. It'll have far reaching implications, some of which I worry we haven't thought of, and therefore didn't take into consideration.” He finished the drink and set the glass aside.

Chey hadn't thought about the possible international fallout. Deals could be reneged on, countries might cut ally status—any number of things. Although she thought that was more likely to happen to Weithan Isle than Latvala, considering Valentina was the manipulative one. And the King, but it didn't sound as if Sander was going to out him to the public. She could hardly blame him.

“Do you think people will think less of you for taking this route? Announcing her deception on television?” Chey asked, when that idea presented itself.