I shook my head again. He moved toward me.
“Security is filled,” I responded quietly. “And I already have an excellent spy on staff.”
He was close enough to touch. “Thea . . .” My name was a rough, throaty sound.
“Why are you here?”
He seemed to put together his words deliberately, to make sure he got it right. “I went back to my old job, and it wasn’t the right fit for me anymore.”
“It wasn’t?” I sounded as breathless as a schoolgirl meeting her pop-star crush.
His knuckles brushed lightly over the top of my arm. “I decided I needed a new challenge. A job I give a damn about. With an uncontrollable woman I give a damn about.”
My silly, aching heart missed a beat at those oh-so-romantic words, but the pain wouldn’t stop until I said what it was demanding. “Now that I think about it, I could use a partner. A . . . a consort.”
I dropped my head because I couldn’t bear to look at his expression, at the pity or rejection I might find there as I pathetically tried again to keep him by my side, especially once I dropped the big news. “My grandmother is abdicating next summer. I’ll be taking her job.”
Nick curled two fingers under my chin and brought my face up.
I thought he was going to kiss me. He had that kissing gleam in his eyes, but instead he whispered, “Consort to the queen, eh? What does that benefits package look like?”
I groaned. “You are the rudest, most infuriating, most ill-mannered—” I was cut off mid-rant by his lips ravaging mine, like a sailor who’d been at sea for months, like a soldier who’d been at war. Electricity snapped through my hair, my skin, my veins, empowering me, making me come alive. I already knew I could rule a country by myself. But I could rule the planet with Nick.
His hands were rough on my face and neck and I didn’t hold back as I yanked him to me, needing to feel his solid, powerful heat against me. I pushed his coat off his shoulders and my fingers went to the bottom of his thick, sodden sweater. “What did you do? Swim here?”
“Only the last bit. After I jumped off the boat,” he rumbled.
“You need a shower,” I gasped as his mouth trailed down behind my ear, nibbled across my collarbone.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I like the sound of that.”
He chuckled against my throat, a sound that made my toes curl. “You would.”
“Nick.” Something made him stop, pull away, and look at me. Take me seriously.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say, but somehow the right words tumbled out of my mouth. “Are you sure? About taking all this on?” The prospects of my future were intimidating for me, and I had grown up in a royal family. I wasn’t sure how Nick was going to handle the changes that were coming.
His expression was solemn. “I’m a man of my word, Princess. I won’t leave you until we’ve finished the job.”
It was as good as any oath of loyalty on his knees.
He grinned at me and for the first time in months, maybe years, the pressure in my chest lifted. “I’d tell you where the shower is, but I have a feeling you already know.”
“Aye.” He did a mock bow. “At your service.” A minute later, I heard the water come on, and I knew we’d need a good rest after we were done tonight.
After all, tomorrow we had a kingdom to run.
acknowledgments
For a story that came to me in a dream, the process of producing this book has been a dream as well.
A million thank-yous go out to the following:
To my agent, Louise Fury (and her trusty compatriots at The Bent Agency, including Kristin, Victoria, and Sam!!) for sharing her superpowers and superteam with me.
To the team at Simon & Schuster and Gallery Books, Lauren McKenna and Jen Bergstrom and my wonder twin editors, Marla Daniels and Molly Gregory. To Sarah Wright and Lisa Wolff for learning Driedish history like the pros they are, and Ploy Siripant for nailing the cover.
To the fabulous Kate Byrne and everyone at Headline Eternal. To Lucy Stille at APA and Shari Smiley and Ellen Goldsmith-Vein at Gotham, for loving Thea and Nick so much (they love you right back!).
To all the people who watch my computer at Starbucks/Panera/the library when I have to go to the ladies’ room. Thank you for enabling me get out of the house to work.
To my HBICs, Mary Chris Escobar, Laura von Holt, Alexis Anne, Alexandra Haughton, and Julia Kelly, who inspire me to keep going, keep writing, and keep being a badass. (And a shout-out to Julia, who told me spy stories were her favorite when I wasn’t quite sure what the heck this book was going to be.) To Tamsen, who assured me that it was absolutely okay to write a book out of order (and now my editors know who to blame). To B, who told me to refill my well and write something just for me.
To my readers: in case you haven’t realized it, you’re the smartest, most good-looking, most interesting people in the world. I’m privileged to write stories for you. If you subscribe to my newsletter (www.lindsayemory.com/newsletter) you’ll keep hearing how amazing you are. I’m just saying.
Finally, words can never be enough to show my appreciation and love for my family: J, E, and M. I write because you believe in me. And honestly, I’m a better mom and wife because I do this. No, really. Trust me on this.
about the author
COURTESY OF AUTHOR’S COLLECTION
LINDSAY EMORY began her career as a lawyer but now writes romantic suspense, mysteries, and romantic comedy. Lindsay lives in North Texas with two big dogs and her romance hero, drinking gimlets and raising two STEM warrior princesses.
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Gallery Books
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Lindsay Emory
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Gallery Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
First Gallery Books trade paperback edition October 2018
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Interior design by Alison Cnockaert
Cover design by Sumanas Siripant
Cover images © makeartnotwar/Shutterstock (hair); © Anna.zabella/Shutterstock (crown); © Cienpies Design/Shutterstock (lips); © Depositphotos (sunglasses)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Emory, Lindsay, 1986– author.
Tit
le: The royal runaway / Lindsay Emory.
Description: First Gallery Books trade paperback edition. | New York : Gallery Books, 2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018009743
Subjects: LCSH: Princesses—Fiction. | Spys—Fiction. | Missing persons—Fiction. | Suspense fiction gsafd
Classification: LCC PS3605.M65 R69 2018 | DDC 813/.6—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018009743.
ISBN 978-1-5011-9661-4
ISBN 978-1-5011-9662-1 (ebook)
The Royal Runaway Page 26
