Stolen To Wear His Crown (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Royal Guard, Book 1)

by Marcella Bell

The King smiled, his features softening in the process, making him look almost boyish. “It is. It’s private, of course, and remote. The only structures on the island are associated with the summer palace compound. It’s a wonderful escape from the constant observation of the capital.”

  Between his smile and the open warmth of his tone, Mina’s heart stuttered. He had no idea how dangerous he was.

  “There are supposed to be multiple species endemic to the island,” she said, inwardly cringing at this offering to the conversation as soon as it was out.

  But the King’s smile grew. “That’s right. Most of the island is vegetated, and it provides excellent habitat for a number of native species. We occasionally allow groups of biologists and students access, for observation and data collection.”

  The corners of Mina’s lips lifted in response. “That’s right! I considered applying for the trip between my junior and sophomore years of college, but I was selected for a fellowship in the Galapagos instead.”

  “Well, as you have the opportunity to visit now, it appears you made the right choice at the time.”

  The stiff response hung between them, effectively cooling the warmth that had grown.

  “Yes. Well...” Mina searched for a smooth exit but, finding none, settled on, “I have some coordinating to do in order to be ready to leave this afternoon, so...”

  Telling herself that the fact that the King looked mildly relieved at her words stung only a little bit, Mina rose as he said, “Yes, of course. Five o’clock, then.”

  Mina nodded, excusing herself from the long dining room and letting out a sigh only after shutting the door behind her.

  Moustafa and d’Tierrza stood to attention on either side of the door. Sensing them, Mina took a breath and straightened her shoulders. She never would have guessed it could happen, but she was actually coming to find comfort in the constancy of their presence.

  With a half-smile, she said, “Well, ladies, it looks like we’re going to the summer palace.”

  D’Tierrza started, before quickly catching Moustafa’s eye.

  Mina was immediately uneasy. “What?”

  Moustafa opened her mouth to say something, only to close it again. On her second try, she got out, “Guards are not allowed at the summer palace.”

  Mina’s eyebrows came together. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  D’Tierrza took over. “The summer palace is a retreat for the royal family—a place for them to go to feel normal. The staff there live in residence year-round, are heavily vetted, and are all military trained. With them around, members of the royal family can be free to go about their day safely, without guards.”

  “But that means it will be just the two of us...”

  Moustafa winced at Mina’s forlorn tone.

  D’Tierrza let out a bark of laughter and began to lead them back towards the Queen’s Wing. “You’ll love Cantorini. Just make sure to have the staff pack some books...” D’Tierrza narrowed her eyes at her Queen “...and a swimsuit.”

  Nine hours later a chauffeur opened the back door of a sleek black SUV and Mina got in, her bags long-ago stowed and packed by someone else, filled with mysterious clothing items selected by her staff. She imagined there was a swimsuit somewhere in there...

  The thought brought a smile to her face—which was more than could be said for the King, who had followed her into the car before the chauffeur shut the door behind him.

  Though he’d said no more than a few words to her in greeting, his presence had dominated her senses from the moment they’d met outside the palace at one of the many private entrances.

  Like her, he wore the same clothes he had at breakfast. Unlike her, he remained as flawlessly put together as he had been that morning.

  As spacious as the vehicle they were enclosed in was, his fragrance still enveloped her, throwing her back to the sensation of being wrapped up in him, his lips pressed against hers.

  Mina’s breath caught as she tamped down the memory. That was most certainly not the thing to think about while traveling alone and in close quarters with the King.

  “Was the rest of your day productive?” she asked, hoping shop talk would do the job of breaking the tension between them.

  Swinging his gaze lazily to capture hers, he let his eyes pin her against the seat. Her breath caught. His nostrils flared slightly and she felt herself lean forward, drawn toward him despite the danger obvious in his regard.

  A spark lit in his stare at her movement, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, and she realized he knew the effect he had on her. Something wild and indignant in her demanded she break free of the hold, but he was too strong.

  His words were drawn out, slow and languid in a way she’d never heard him speak before, when he asked, “Do you really care how my day went?”

  And although her body shivered at all the unspoken things in his voice that showed what he thought she really cared about, Mina found herself surprised by the truth in her words when she replied, a tad breathlessly, “Yes.”

  Something in her reply took him aback, though she didn’t know if it was the honesty that had surprised her, or the unspoken invitation to talk about statecraft itself.

  He shrugged and sat back, snapping the tautness between them as he traded a bit of languid grace for upright alertness. Mina found herself regretting the loss.

  “I secured two new international trade agreements, resisted a foreign power’s overreach into Cyranese affairs, and set the stage for establishing an official diplomatic relationship with the Kingdom of Montenegro.”

  Mina’s breath caught in her throat. The fact that he had answered—and not facetiously—felt somehow more important than it probably was. But it was what he’d said, the casual mention of allegiances and world politics, which shook her to the core. He was the King. His days were comprised of the stuff of nations.

  And what were her days comprised of? Royal summonses and waiting for others to coordinate her luggage. Falling softly back against the seat, she mourned the loss of her old identity once more.

  Queen Amina’s days were idled away. Dr. Mina Aldaba’s days had been spent in research and study, her mind applied to the most pressing concerns of modern science.

  But she had asked the King a question, and she was being rude in dwelling on herself. “That sounds like a very productive day,” she said.

  He smirked at her. “Where did I lose you? Trade agreements?”

  Mina frowned. “Of course not. I understand how important advantageous trade agreements are for a small nation like ours.”

  His smirk blossomed into a real smile, and Mina realized he’d deliberately worked a rise out of her. Her own lips stretched wide, unconsciously imitating his light expression, and as they did so his face changed, as if he were suddenly transfixed.

  How long they would have stayed that way, staring at one another, Mina had no idea, but fortunately the car came to a stop, breaking the moment.

  Seconds later the door opened and the chauffeur offered her a hand. Stepping out onto Tarmac, Mina deduced that they must be taking the small plane that waited about six meters away, its rounded door open, a stairway lowered.

  Attendants ushered them quickly to the plane. On board, the King checked the safety equipment before showing Mina the amenities. About halfway through the mini-tour, Mina realized the plane was his private plane, and that he loved it.

  “The flight is short—just forty-five minutes in the air—but it’s the safest way to get to the island at this time of year.”

  His posture had lost some its characteristic rigidity since they’d boarded the plane, and his voice had taken on a note of youthful excitement that hinted at the kind of man he might have been before his father’s death.

  The idea filled Mina with the strangest urge to have known him then—before he became King. She didn’t know
where it came from, but she couldn’t shake the sensation that he must have been different—lighter, more joyful.

  “I’ve never taken such a short flight,” she said, although the scientist in her was frowning somewhat at the impact this small flight might have on a delicate eco-system like Cantorini’s.

  Reading her mind, the King said, “The benefit of a plane this size is that we’ve been able to retrofit it to run on completely renewable energy. In fact, the entire summer palace was updated six years ago, to achieve a net zero impact on the island. The technology isn’t scalable for all of Cyrano yet, but at this point it’s just a matter of time.”

  She was impressed. While wealth like the royal family’s made such experimentation infinitely more possible, not many who had the capacity also had the will.

  “That’s wonderful. Your parents must have had excellent forethought to do that. So when do we take off?” she asked.

  But the King shook his head. “It was my idea. I pestered my father until he was willing to do anything to shut me up.”

  His eyes lit with the memory, his smile turning into a downright grin, and Mina was enchanted. “It must’ve cost a fortune,” she said.

  His grin stretched. “It did. Well worth it to know the future of the island is safer, though. I’ve always loved going there.”

  “I can imagine. A place to run around like a normal child... That had to be precious to you.”

  His face softened as he nodded. “It was. It can be a challenge to be a prince and a child at the same time.”

  Her heart reached out to that boy with the pressure of a nation on his shoulders. Her own childhood had been bright and free, even though she now knew that her father had arranged for her to be a queen before it had even begun. Her dreams and his encouragement had pushed her to achieve, but for all the striving she’d still been a normal girl. Her parents had ensured that.

  “I’m glad you had a place to escape.”

  He turned to face her at her words, searching her face for something, and even though she didn’t know how she knew, she could sense it was genuineness. Her heart broke for him. He was adored and idolized by an entire nation, and yet starving for everyday acts of compassion.

  She had the feeling he didn’t have many people he could talk to.

  “Me too,” he said. “I was fortunate that Hel was a member of the royal family as well. Otherwise there would have been no other children to play with.”

  “D’Tierrza? You two are close?”

  He nodded. “We always have been. A cousin makes a convenient best friend.”

  “It’s good you two had each other.”

  He laughed. “I won’t argue with that. Without my steadying influence, who knows where the woman would have ended up?”

  Mina snorted. As Helene d’Tierrza had flouted every aristocratic convention and continued to cause controversy by holding her position in the Royal Guard, she had to wonder indeed.

  The King smiled. “And, in answer to your earlier question, we take off when I get in there.” He angled his head toward the cockpit.

  She started. “You’re flying us?”

  The grin that flashed across his face at her astonishment was pure and light and worth every iota of uncertainty resting in her gut about putting her fate in the hands of a hobby pilot.

  Anxiety stood no chance against the cocky ease in his expression. Its spark was like a snapshot to the past, undoubtedly more familiar to older versions of himself. Her heart thudded even as the right side of her brain demanded she collect more information.

  “When did you learn how to fly?” she asked. Somehow it didn’t seem politic for the nation’s future King to have engaged in such a risky recreational activity.

  His grin stretched wider, and she had the distinct impression that she was going to be even more shocked by his response.

  “When I was fifteen.”

  “Fifteen?” Mina sputtered. “That can’t be legal!”

  He shrugged, obviously enjoying her shock, before asking insouciantly, “What’s ‘legal’ to the King?”

  “I should hope a lot. And you weren’t the King then,” she pointed out.

  He shrugged. “What’s legal to the Queen?”

  “The Queen let you fly planes at fifteen?”

  He laughed at the incredulity in her voice and nodded. “She did. Insisted, in fact.”

  “That doesn’t seem very safe...”

  Zayn tsked. “That’s awfully judgmental of you, Dr. Aldaba.”

  She shook her head. “Reasonable. You were the only heir to the throne.”

  “As you are about to entrust your health and wellbeing to my flying, I’d have to beg to argue that it’s incredibly safe. I never would have imagined that you, Dr. Amina Aldaba, youngest scholar ever nominated for the King’s council and barrier-breaking pioneer, were so old-fashioned.”

  Instead of stinging, his words brought a smile to her face. He wasn’t throwing her lost dreams in her face—he was teasing her. The idea filled her with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth.

  “I am an excellent pilot, if you’re worried,” he added.

  She looked up to meet his violet gaze, saying with complete honesty, “I have no doubt you are excellent at everything you do.”

  Her words hung in the suddenly charged air between them. She hadn’t meant them as anything but a straightforward observation, but somehow, in the atmosphere of it being just she and the King together, the words throbbed with innuendo.

  Clearing his throat, the King said, “Glad to know I have your confidence. Now, if we’re ever going to arrive, I’d better get this bird in the air.”

  He left her in the cabin with a nod, heading into the cockpit and closing the door between them with a decisive click.

  Mina took her seat and clicked the seat belt, though there was no light to indicate she needed to do so in the luxurious interior. Alone, without the presence of her husband to absorb her focus, she had more time to examine every element of takeoff.

  Fortunately, their transition from thousands of pounds in weight of land-bound metal to weightless flying creature was buttery-smooth. Better, she had to acknowledge, than any commercial flight she’d ever been on.

  The first twenty minutes of the flight were smooth and clear, with the island soon coming into sight. Sooner than she would have imagined. Given the height and angle of the plane to the island, and the lack of any visible infrastructure, she was surprised when they banked toward a gorgeous long stretch of sandy beach.

  Her geometry was rusty, but a frown came to her brow as they began what felt like a descent right on to the beach. There was no runway in sight.

  She entered the cockpit to find the King ramrod-straight in the pilot’s seat, gripping the wheel with what was surely an unnecessary amount of muscle. His neck was tense and his entire being was focused on guiding the plane toward the beach ahead of them.

  She looked once more from the King to the beach, and then back to the King again.

  “We’re having to make an emergency landing on that beach, aren’t we?” she asked as if she had been asking about the weather. Her nerves felt strangely numb as she took in the situation, while her mind, well-muscled and rigorously disciplined, processed the data.

  “We are.”

  He didn’t look at her. He shouldn’t and she didn’t really want him to. She wanted him to land the plane. With all her heart, as it turned out. It took only one stark moment for her to realize that she wanted her life—even if it consisted of tattered dreams and ill-suited roles.

  “I was afraid of that.” She was far too calm for the situation going on around them. She recognized that, and knew that it suggested she was in shock. In a mild haze, she asked, “What can I do?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. It appears our engine has stalled, so unless by chance you have some k
nowledge of aerospace engineering, I suggest you sit tight.” He spoke sarcastically, though his forearms flexed against the plane’s yoke.

  Mina nodded. She did not, so she sat calmly in the co-pilot’s seat, closed and adjusted her seatbelt, and was still. Searching for something to hold on to, her hand found the King’s thigh, and she squeezed as she watched the rapid approach of the long beach of rich chocolate-brown sand.

  At what felt like the last possible moment, he straightened the plane, lifting its nose just enough to bring the wheels into jarring contact with sand, rather than the front end of the plane. They skidded to a halt, the plane’s front end digging huge tracks into the beach but miraculously holding its shape and integrity.

  “Are you all right?” the King asked, once the noise and dust had settled around them.

  After her breath returned, Mina nodded.

  “Thank God.” The words came out on an exhale, along with the unspoken message that he’d been far more uncertain about landing than he’d projected.

  Taking a deep breath, Mina said, “I’m glad you know how to fly planes.”

  The King let out a shaky laugh. “Me too.” But he was back to business quickly. “Now, I hope you’re ready to walk. It’s about a half-day’s trek through the woodlands to get to the cabin, and then another couple of hours of pretty steep hiking from there to get to the summer palace, as the crow flies.”

  Mina nodded. After surviving an emergency plane landing, she could handle a half-day hike through gentle woodlands.

  “Leave your luggage here for now—just worry about water. The cabin is stocked, as is the summer palace. The clean-up team will collect what’s here.”

  “Won’t they be looking for us at the plane?”

  “I sent them a message in my SOS. They know we’re heading to the cabin rather than waiting. This beach is inaccessible via land vehicle, and we do not have any ship large enough nearby to handle carrying the plane, so it will take hours for the crew to get organized.”

  He was up and moving, grabbing items from the cabin as he spoke, and soon Mina had no choice but to follow the King across the beach and into the woods.