by Katie Knight
“Sir, I—” Both humbled and terrified by the king’s speech, Z wasn’t quite sure what to say, only that he needed to say something. “Things aren’t what they seem between Esme and me. We have a contract, a deal. I give her a baby to keep the line of succession going, and she gets me back on my SEAL team. I’m sorry to tell you that, but it’s true. Ours isn’t a love match. It’s a business transaction.”
Even as he said the words, they tasted bitter on his tongue. Okay, maybe things had moved beyond a mere business transaction the minute he and Es had continued sleeping together even after they’d conceived, but still. He liked her. He liked her a lot. He had no idea where she stood on things with him, though, and he wasn’t about to push her into more anyway. They had their deal, and they both got out of it exactly what they wanted, right?
Better the king know the truth now than to die believing a lie.
If Z’s confession fazed King Renault at all, however, he didn’t show it. In fact, he grinned up at Z like he was privy to some great cosmic joke that no one else knew. “My son, the best relationships often start on shaky ground. I’m not here to cast blame or heap upon either of you a bunch of harsh expectations. But I know what I saw in my vision, and what I saw was you and my daughter, very much in love and very much ruling this country together in my new grandson’s stead.” The king patted Z’s arm. “That’s really all you need to be a good father, you know. Or a good husband. Just love and support. And you and my daughter have that in spades even if you’re both too stubborn to admit it right now. That’s why I have no qualms about going through with this marriage today. I want to make sure that bond stays strong, even after I’m gone.”
He and Es were scheduled to marry in front of the magistrate the week before Christmas anyway, with all the bells and whistles required of a royal wedding. Having a short civil ceremony here today for the king wouldn’t hurt anything. The king raised an imperious brow at him and the last of Z’s resistance caved. The king had said Z had given his family a gift. Well, they’d given him one as well. A purpose, a new direction in life when he’d desperately needed one and if he could repay that debt now, even in some small part, he’d do it. “Fine. I’ll go see if I can find this chaplain of yours.”
“Thank you, my son. And send my daughter back in, will you? I’ll need to convince her about all this, too.”
Z walked out of the room to find Es leaning against the wall not far away. She brushed the backs of her hands across her damp cheeks and straightened as he approached.
“Well? What did he say?” she asked.
“He explained why he wants us to get married today, and I told him we’ll do it.”
“But what about the ceremony we have planned?” Es asked, her face flushed and her movements wild. “I’m not prepared at all. I don’t have my dress or my stylist or the vows I’d written.”
“You wrote vows?” Z asked, placing his hands on her shoulders to calm her. He wasn’t surprised that Es would compose her own vows for her wedding. That was her to a T—unique and adorable and unforgettable. But he was surprised she’d gone to the trouble for him, considering this was all a sham. Wasn’t it?
Instead of answering directly, she gave a small nod and looked away. “I thought it would help create the illusion we were really in love.”
“Hmm.” Z pondered that while a monitor beeped in the king’s room and several members of the medical staff ran to check on him. They needed to get a move on if they hoped to get this wedding accomplished before the king expired. Things were going downhill fast. “Don’t worry about any of that. We can have a civil ceremony here with the chaplain, to please your father, then do the regular ceremony later, if we want. I’m going to find the minister now. Your father asked to see you again.”
Es exhaled slow then looked up at him, her hazel eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “He’s dying.”
“I know. And I’m so, so sorry, princess.” Z pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “But we’ll get through this, I promise. I’m right here by your side and I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry about our fight. I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”
“Me neither.” He smiled into the top of her hair, inhaling her good Es scent. “Now go in there and spend time with your father while I find this chaplain, so we can get this going, okay?”
“Okay.” Es released him and Z backed away slowly, watching her square her shoulder before walking back into her father’s room. She was so much stronger than she gave herself credit for and Z loved her for it.
Even if he’d never tell her so.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Do you, Zachary Raybourn, take this woman, Esme Hollycombe, to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the chaplain asked. The king’s hospital room was eerily quiet, except for the monotonous beeps of the monitors and the occasional whirr of the heating vents in the ceiling. Not exactly how he’d pictured his wedding day. In fact, Z couldn’t really remember ever thinking about marriage much at all, at least until he’d met Es and they’d struck their deal.
Still, here he was, and they were doing this—all to make the dying king happy.
And maybe because he wanted to make Es happy, too.
“I do,” he said, the words oddly rough in the small room.
She gave him a watery smile as she slid a simple platinum band onto his ring finger, her hands trembling. He held her icy hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze for support. She’d put on such a brave face through all this—handling all the arrangements, making the necessary statements to the media, even graciously dealing with the well-wishers and mourners who’d somehow gotten word about their quickie ceremony and shown up to fill the street outside.
“And do you, Esme Hollycombe, take this man, Zachary Raybourn, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” He was still bemused by the fact she’d written vows for him. They weren’t using them today, of course. Those would come later at their grand spectacle of a royal wedding for the people of Prylea and the press. Today was just for her father. Es exhaled slow and glanced at the medical team who were serving as their witnesses. Z wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her until that glitter of sadness left her eyes, but that wasn’t allowed. Per Es’s insistence, they were public figures now and needed to present a united, and stoic, front to the world during this difficult time.
“I do,” she said, blinking fast as he slid the diamond and platinum wedding ring that had belonged to her mother—a matched set with the ruby engagement ring—onto Es’s finger. From his hospital bed, her father smiled and gave a small nod.
“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The chaplain closed the small Bible in his hands. “You may kiss your bride.”
Finally, something Z had no hesitancy about. He leaned in slightly and brushed his lips across Es’s, keeping things chaste with all the onlookers watching.
A smattering of applause rang through the small crowd.
“Thank you,” the king said. “You’ve made me a very happy man.”
Z accepted the congratulations of the medical staff and the chaplain and received backslaps and handshakes from his security team members. Es was inundated with kisses and hugs and one of the guards showed her video of the crowd downstairs cheering at the news that their princess was now legally wed.
The king drifted off to sleep shortly thereafter and Z and Es sat by his bedside, a sad vigil for a man whose life was cut far too short by a horrendous disease. The medical staff drifted in and out through the night, checking some things, fiddling with others. Es knitted, the clack of her needles a steady rhythm of comfort and consolation. Around three a.m. the heart rate monitor began to beep more slowly and the king’s breathing grew labored. Es’s grip on her knitting needles became white-knuckled and Z knew the end was near.
The buzz of the staff around the bedside and the call for a crash cart seemed surreal. Z watched it all as if in slow motion, reaching for Es, but she p
ulled away, her gaze locked on her father in the bed as the team attempted CPR on his stopped heart before using the panels. They shocked him once, twice, each time the king’s body arching off the bed before flopping back down, pale and lifeless.
“Es,” Z said, trying to lead her out of the room, but she pulled away again.
“No. I want to be here. I want to stay.” When at last the doctor called time of death, Es swayed slightly, and this time, when Z slid his arm around her waist to support her, she let him. “He’s gone,” she whispered. “He’s gone and I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Z kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, remembering the night his own parents had been killed in the terrorist attack. He’d never gotten to say goodbye to them either, and it was a regret he still carried with him to this day. Still, one of his foster families had told him that his parents knew how much he’d loved them and that they watched over him from heaven. Their death wasn’t really a goodbye because they’d never really left him. They were always with him, in his heart.
“He knows, princess. He knows how much you loved him and that you were here for him until the end,” Z said, holding her closer as she sagged into him, her tears flowing freely now that they were alone with her father’s body. The medical staff had quietly filed out to give them a moment. “He knows how brave you were, how strong. How capable. He died a happy man because of you, princess.”
Es turned her face into his chest and sobbed. Z held her close, his heart aching for her, this woman who meant so much to him. By this point, he wasn’t sure how he’d leave her when the time came. He wasn’t supposed to care, he knew that. It wasn’t part of their deal. He was supposed to stay until the baby was born then return to his SEAL team. That’s what he’d wanted, what he’d lived for. But now…
As he rocked Es slowly, stroking her soft hair and murmuring words of solace in her ear, he started to realize that things had changed for him. He’d changed. Es and their baby had worked their way deep into his heart, and they both now mattered to him far more than he’d ever expected. More than his past, more than his SEAL team, more than his need for control and his fear of being left behind.
“It’ll be all right, princess,” he whispered. “Maybe not now, but it will be, I promise.”
The slight swell of her baby bump pressed against his stomach and Z smiled, despite the situation. Hoping to lift her spirits a bit, Z asked, “Do you think the baby will be allergic to strawberries, like you and your father were?”
Es sniffled and lifted her head, frowning. “What?”
Z tilted his head slightly, cupping her cheeks to swipe away her tears with his thumbs. “The baby. Do you think he’ll be allergic to strawberries, like you and your father?”
“I don’t know.” Es shook her head. “Maybe. I suppose he could be. Such things are genetic, but I don’t think I’m really allergic.”
“Really?” Z cocked a brow at her. “So all the hives and itchiness is normal then?”
She bit her lip, but not before he saw a slight smile. Mission accomplished. Warmth and affection soared inside him. “Fine. I may have a slight allergy. And I know what you’re doing, trying to make me feel better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed her again, sweetly, before one of the staff ducked their head into the room. “We need to go.”
While Es said her final goodbyes to her father, Z packed up her knitting and gathered their things. As they walked out of the hospital suite for the last time, heading toward the back entrance that Z had had his security team prepare earlier for their departure, he kept his arm around Es. It was as much for his own need to feel her near him as to support and comfort her.
She looked far too pale for his liking. If he didn’t think she’d raise an unholy fuss, he’d just as soon carry her down to their waiting limo in his arms, but he knew Es would have none of that, strong woman that she was.
There’d be tough days ahead, with her father’s funeral to plan and Silvester still lurking about. None of that mattered to Z at present. All he wanted right now was to get his wife and baby home to the palace where they could eat and rest and mourn in peace.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next few weeks passed by in a blur for Es. Between dealing with her grief about her father’s passing and coordinating a state funeral to rival anything Europe had ever seen, she’d had her hands full. Not to mention the pregnancy. She’d long outgrown her early maternity clothes and was now sporting full-on tent-like tops and dresses. Not exactly regal wear, but they were comfy and warm—and since they were heading into a long Prylean winter, that was all that mattered.
At least she had Z by her side through it all. He’d been her rock and her protector, and she was more and more grateful each day to have him as her husband. Even if it was only part of their deal and he’d be gone shortly after their son was born. She did her best to remind herself that their marriage wasn’t real, but it didn’t stop her heart from falling a bit more in love with him each day. She’d be devastated when he left, but she’d let him go because that’s what she’d promised him she would do. And Es always kept her promises.
Unfortunately, he was busier than ever, dealing with a rise in threats since the king’s death. Es would not have been surprised to find that most of the threats came from backers of her cousin. In addition to the Christmas Market bomb threat, there’d also been two attempts at scaling the palace gates, trying to get inside to harm her and her unborn baby. One had had a knife and the other a small handgun. Neither had made it past the driveway, but both attacks had left Es shaken.
Then there’d been the day she’d been in town, after her father’s funeral, shopping for things for the nursery. Looking back, she should’ve noticed the strange way the clerk in the shop kept tracking her every movement as if waiting for the right time to strike. At the time, however, she’d been too engrossed in her shopping to pay much attention and had thought herself well-hidden in the disguise she’d worn, thinking it would make her more incognito.
Her wig and baseball hat, however, hadn’t deterred the female clerk who’d come at her like a Mack truck in the store, yelling about Silvester reigning forever, and brandishing a wickedly sharp letter opener with which she’d tried to stab Es and her baby.
Luckily, her security guards had been prepared and had managed to pull the woman off and cart her away before any harm was done, but still. Es rarely ventured outside the palace walls anymore. Internet shopping had become her best friend, but it wasn’t the same as getting out and exploring. Most days, the confinement left her restless and bored and on-edge.
Of course, not spending any time with her husband lately didn’t help either. He was so busy trying to keep her safe and keep her cousin’s coup attempts under control that they rarely saw each other during the day. At night, he fell into bed exhausted and was asleep within minutes, barely taking the time to kiss her goodnight first.
Z had assured her that things would get better after their son was officially recognized as the new king, but so far she hadn’t seen any signs that things were getting better. Today, there’d even been an active shooter scare at one of the local schools, with the suspected gunman claiming to be trying to bring awareness to her cousin’s rightful claim to the throne by holding innocent children hostage. The world had gone insane and Es was scared to bring her son into it, frankly.
She looked over in bed, through the shadows, and stared at the muscled planes of Z’s back. Needing connection, she reached over and placed her hand against his warm skin. He stirred in his sleep and rolled over to face her, eyes still closed as he pulled her into his arms and sleepily kissed her forehead. Not exactly the passionate response she’d been hoping for, but it was enough to comfort her.
Es snuggled into him and closed her eyes, praying that Z was right and that once the parliamentary session next week acknowledged their son as the legitimate heir to the throne of Prylea, things would calm down. Still, a niggle of doubt lin
gered inside her, a worry that with her father gone, she might lose this new little family she’d built just as easily and it terrified her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Deacon, dude!” Z walked into the Prancing Pony Pub that Friday, relieved beyond measure to see his best friend in the flesh. His old SEAL buddy had a stopover in Prylea on his way back to America following a secret mission in Russia and was on a four-hour layover. They shared a back-slapping bro hug then took a seat in the booth Deacon had saved for them.
“Hey, man,” Deacon said, sliding into the booth seat opposite Z’s. “Long time no actual see.”
They ordered their drinks and a couple appetizers, then started catching up.
“So, how’s it feel to be a married man now?” Deacon asked after thanking the server for his pale ale. “And a baby on the way, too. The times they are a’changing.”
Z exhaled slow and took a long drink of his dark brew. “It all still seems unreal sometimes. But then, none of it is real.” He winced slightly at the words and sat back. “I told you about the offer she made me months ago. I’m just fulfilling my end of the deal.”
“Uh-huh.” Deacon sat back narrowing his dark gaze on Z. “Sure. I remember that conversation, all right. But I also see the man sitting across from me now and I have to say that I’m seeing a different guy. You look happier, man, more comfortable in your own skin.”
Snorting, Z shook his head. “Maybe. I don’t know. Things have been pretty nuts around here lately.”
“Job-wise?”
“Yeah. I work hard to keep security tight around Es, especially with the kid on the way. But lately, the threats have reached a new level. I don’t want to be that guy who cries wolf all the time, but I also can’t watch Es every second of the day either, you know? It’s tough.”
