The King Takes A Bride (Royals Book 4) (17 page)

What mattered in that moment was that everyone survived the harrowing ordeal. In the back of her mind, snippets of the scene replayed over and over, the first and foremost being Paavo's shouting for his brothers.

For Mattias and Gunnar.

Sander, it seemed, had been nowhere on his radar.

. . .

The transfer to the hospital in Kalev happened with swift efficiency. From the heavy utility SUV to the helicopter to the helipad on the rooftop of the medical building, everything went smooth and without trouble.

Chey insisted she could walk on her own into the elevator atop the building; the doctors over rode her and Krislin both, laying them out on gurneys instead. Flashes of strange faces, lights, steel walls and long corridors came and went until the whirlwind halted in a private suite that could have come straight out of the castle itself. A decadent suite, at that. Renaissance dressers with brogue detail sat against a wall and a large bed took up space to the right. Adjacent, in a more sterile part of the room, a smaller hospital bed waited. Every medical amenity could be accounted for as well as creature comforts like a flat screen television and a wardrobe kept on standby. Clearly, this was a suite meant for the royal family. Chey wondered if the entire floor was geared toward emergencies like this.

Switched to the smaller, sterile bed from the gurney, Chey allowed nurses to peel away the outer coat, her own jacket and her boots. Needles gleamed under cones of light directed down from above while a nurse inserted an IV.

Chey wanted to say that she was fine. She didn't need blood drawn or hydration via artificial means. What she wanted was information. On Sander, Mattias, Gunnar. Was Krislin all right? She couldn't get a word in edgewise thanks to answering a slew of questions a female doctor directed her way.

No, she wasn't in any pain. No, there were no cramps, she hadn't hit her head or suffered lacerations from the slide down the hill. After gentle coercion, she changed into a hospital gown so the nurses had easier access to her.

All the while, Chey kept an eye on the doorway for Sander.

She needed to make sure he, along with his brothers and the guards, were all right. Her body had other ideas.

Fifteen minutes later, she lost the fight and drifted off to sleep.

. . .

“That was an awfully close call, your Majesty,” Bashir said. Sitting next to Sander in an SUV instead of a limousine, the Crown Prince glanced sidelong.

Sander sat with his back slouched against the seat, only looking over when Bashir spoke. Deemed safer to descend the rest of the mountain in the heavy duty vehicles rather than the sleek limousines, the remaining men had been split up and were being driven down to the docks to meet up with the helicopter.

“Yes. All it takes is one patch of ice. Thank you for your help.” He looked ahead once more. Mattias sat in the front next to the driver while Gunnar and one of Bashir's guards sat in the seat behind Sander and Bashir.

“Certainly. I would expect no less from you should the circumstances have happened in my country instead of yours.”

“Indeed.”

“You didn't mention the contract details in front of my acquaintances. I wonder why,” Bashir said after a few minutes of silence.

Sander brought his thoughts back from where they'd strayed to Chey and her condition. “I'll play along for now, Bashir. Stay until the wedding if you're determined to, but my mind, nor my sister's, has changed.”

Reaching into the inner pocket of his blazer, Sander withdrew the ring Bashir had presented to Natalia. He held it up between his fingers.

Bashir stared. For a moment, he didn't move to take it. Finally, he plucked it from Sander's fingers. He slid it into the front pocket of his shirt. “You do realize mine has not changed either, yes?”

“You mean your pursuit of the contract in its original form?”

“Yes. I am not through with this yet.”

“Our lawyers can battle it out. I won't entertain any more conversation about it nor will I tolerate coercion of Natalia. It's my belief that you're pressing so hard because you feel this will cement your rise to King. Maybe it would have, maybe it wouldn't. But there are other ways.” Sander propped his elbow on the window sill as the helipad came into view.

“As you say. Our lawyers will battle it out.” Bashir turned his face toward his own window, effectively ending the discussion.

Sander gave the Prince a quick glance. The events of the evening had no bearing on his decision to stick to the original plan. He wouldn't out the Prince in front of his friends unless Bashir cornered him and gave him no other choice. The man was an opportunist, but so was much of the elite of the world. A person didn't rise to the top without making deals and sacrifices along the way. Sometimes it required finesse, others a cutthroat approach.

“Take the guests across to the mainland first,” Sander ordered when the SUV came to a stop. He wouldn't depart Pallan until his visitors were safely back at the family seat.

Only then would he descend on the hospital to check on his bride to be.

Chey opened her eyes to the diffused glare of sunlight filtering through sheer curtains. Confused about why the room looked different, she blocked the glow with a hand until her vision adjusted. Blurry shapes sharpened into recognizable objects. It wasn't until she saw Sander's silhouette in the chair near the window that memory of the accident surfaced.

“Sander?” Chey pushed the sheets and covers off her hips and legs. Swinging her feet to the ground, she groaned at the protest of sore muscles.

Yes. Now she remembered why she was here.

“Hey. You shouldn't be up yet.” Sander set aside his coffee and rose from his seat. He wore a new set of clothes: blue jeans, buckskin boots, a long sleeved shirt of pale blue with the cuffs flipped back to his elbows. “How do you feel?”

“I'm fine. Just sore. How is everyone else? Krislin? Did Mattias get hurt?” Chey, glad to feel that the IV was gone from her arm, crossed over to wrap Sander in a hug. The scent of a fresh shower made breathing the skin of his throat pleasant. Enfolded in the band of his arms, Chey molded herself to his front. She stared up at his eyes after pressing a kiss over the hot blip of his pulse.

“Everyone's all right. Just minor scrapes, scratches and a few bruises. The guard and driver, who waited until the very last second to keep the limo from sliding further, got out in time.” Sander bent his head to press a kiss on her mouth.

Chey threaded her fingers through the loose length of his hair and licked the taste of him off her lip. “I'm so glad to hear it. I can't believe I slept the whole night through.”

“You needed the rest. Things have been stressful and hectic lately. You sure you're feeling okay?” he asked.

“Yes. Really. I'm fine. And I'm sure the baby's fine, too, or I'd be hooked up to a hundred different machines.”

He smiled. “The doctor confirmed everything looks good. But you need to take it easy the next day or two, just in case.”

“I'll be careful but I hope I don't have to stay here. It's nice enough and everything, there's just a lot left to do before the wedding,” she said. Speaking of the wedding and all the details brought the interview to mind. Chey wondered if this was a good time to tell him. While they were alone, while things were calm.

“Hanna's got you covered. Last I knew, there were just small details left,” he said. Taking a step back, he drew her toward the plush chair near the window and pulled her into his lap when he sat down.

Chey got comfortable—or as comfortable as she could in the hospital gown. It wasn't her best look. “Well, we have to figure out the bridesmaids. I have no idea what's going on with that. I told Hanna it would just be three, instead of six.”

Sander reached for his coffee and took a sip. He arched his brows.

“I didn't think Natalia really wanted to do it and Katrin hasn't said a word to me. Aurora is...I don't know. She's keeping a distance. I figure three is better than one.” Chey accepted the styrofoam cup when he offered it and had a cautious sip of the hot brew. The pleasant burn made her take another sip before offering it back.

“We'll work with three. If the council protests, I'll over ride them. This way, there's no more delay. All right?” He lifted the cup for a longer drink.

“Perfect. Thanks. I don't want to have to worry about it anymore.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and studied his eyes. He looked tired, as if he'd stayed up all night. “Where is everyone else? Bashir and the guests?”

“Krislin went home sometime in the middle of the night with Gunnar. The guests are back at the family seat and Mattias is lurking around here somewhere.”

“Oh. So do I get to leave, then? I'd really like to get back. Hospitals aren't my favorite place and I really am okay.” As much as Chey disliked being at the family seat, she preferred it to the hospital any day.

“Yeah, I'll check with the doctor one last time. There are some clean clothes that should fit you in the closet.” Sander squeezed her thigh, then eased his arms from around her.

Chey stole one more kiss from his lips before sliding off his lap. If they had been anywhere else, she would have spent the entire morning pinning him to the seat. “Perfect. I'll be ready in five minutes.”

“Take your time, Slinky. There's no rush.” He laughed, a quiet sound, and pushed to a stand. Setting the coffee down, he hitched the waist of his pants up with a pinch of his fingers. “I'll come get you when they're done.”

At the closet, Chey sorted through shirts and jeans, impressed that someone thought to keep a stash here for emergencies.

“Okay. Hurry up though!” It was becoming habit to tack that on when she was impatient.

“You keep sassing me and I'll send in the nurses to do an enema,” he said, grinning before he exited into the hall.

“You better not!” Too late. He was already gone.

. . .

What luck. She found jeans one size larger than she needed so she didn't have to go around with the button and zipper undone. Pairing a simple tee shirt of white and navy cardigan with it, Chey donned a pair of tennis shoes that fit a little tight and caught her hair back into a ponytail for the ride home. There would be time for a shower later.

“Excuse me, Miss Sinclair? Here are your discharge papers,” a nasally voice said from the direction of the doorway.

Chey turned around, wondering what was wrong with the woman's voice, and came face to face with a smiling Wynn. She was so shocked to see her best friend that Wynn got the proverbial jump on her.

After a quick
Look, it's me!
pose, Wynn attacked Chey with an exuberant hug. The girls spun a happy circle.

“Wynn! How are you here right now? When did you--”

“Sander sent for me! As a surprise. Surprise!” Wynn leaned back and held Chey at arms length. “I was supposed to arrive at the castle last night. He brought me here instead so we could chatter all the way home.”

Laughing, Chey hugged Wynn once more, so very pleased to see her. In the doorway, Sander leaned against the frame, arms folded causally across his chest. A ghost of a smile touched his mouth and his eyes.

Chey mouthed,
thank you.

You're welcome,
he mouthed back.

Putting Wynn at arm's length, returning the favor of a study, she got a better look at her friend. The bob of Wynn's dark hair still brushed the top of her shoulders and framed a face more narrow than round. In typical Wynn style, she wore a tartan style skirt of green and blue plaid, mary-janes adding a school girl touch over white stockings.

“I know, I look incredible,” Wynn said with a playful lilt, hip cocked sassily to one side.

Chey laughed. “You always do. I can't believe you're here early. Oh, this means we can do your fitting and everything. Hanna will be in heaven!”

“Yes. We get to do all the girly things we want to with plenty of time to spare,” Wynn said, glancing over her shoulder at Sander.

Chey wondered what that look was the two traded between them. She narrowed her eyes. Before she could ask, Sander pushed off the door frame.

“All right, you two. Let's go. The helicopter's waiting.” He gestured them into the hallway.

Arm in arm, Chey led Wynn out of the hospital room, sending her goodbyes and thank-yous to the doctor and nurses at the desk.

“Remember to take it easy for a few days,” the doctor reminded her.

“I will. Thanks again.” Chey gave them a final wave, promising herself that as soon as she could get Sander alone at the castle, she would tell him about the interview.

In the meantime, she meant to play catch up with Wynn on the flight to the family seat.

“I don't even know what to say. Look at that!” Wynn stared out the limousine window at Ahtissari castle.

Chey smiled, watching Wynn absorb the reality of what had become her life. Even Chey still couldn't believe it sometimes. “Wait till you see Pallan island and Kallaster castle. It's really something too.”

“When do I get to see that one?” Wynn asked as the car cruised past the gate and into the courtyard.

“We'll go over some time this week before the wedding. Now that we have several extra days, we won't have to rush like we would have before,” Chey said. She glanced at Sander. “Is that all right?”

He inclined his head. “Of course. Whatever you girls want to do.”

She paused at the subdued mood Sander exhibited, wondering if it had to do with Bashir or Paavo or the accident. Maybe all three. “Thanks,” she whispered.

He winked and slid out of the limousine when a guard opened the door. Sander held a hand down to guide Chey out, then Wynn.

“This is crazy,” Wynn said in a quiet voice.

“The inside is even more unbelievable. Come on,” Chey said, holding onto Sander's arm with one hand while lightly grasping Wynn's elbow with the other.

Mattias brought up the rear, hands in the pockets of his pants. Like Sander, he'd found new clothes to change into.

Wynn's reaction to the interior of the castle was every bit as enthused and surprised as Chey thought it would be. She remembered well the sense of awe on her first visit.