Royal Escape: The Complete Series

by Peak, Renna

“You won’t try and cause trouble?” I ask him, turning to study his face. It’s frustratingly blank.

  “The whole point of my coming along is to keep you out of trouble,” he says. “Why would I jeopardize that?”

  That makes me even more suspicious. Chewing on my bottom lip, I pull the pasta from the stove and drain it in the sink. My stomach is flip-flopping again, but I doubt Nick will reveal his mind to me, even if I give him the third degree. I’m just going to have to be wary.

  I quickly assemble two plates of pasta, then carry them over to the table. Nick and I eat in silence, and though I occasionally glance up to study his face, his gaze remains carefully on the food in front of him. I wonder what he was thinking about, up there in his room all day. I wonder a lot of things about this man, and I’m no closer to getting any answers. So he has siblings, does he? Even if he’s not the oldest—which I’m still having a hard time believing—he must be used to a lot of responsibility. Or maybe other circumstances have led him to feel like he has something to prove. But Nick is too rigid, too particular, to be the spoiled youngest sibling. Of that I’m completely sure.

  When both of our plates are scraped clean, I rise and take them both to the sink.

  “We should probably go before it gets too late,” I say, and even uttering those words makes me feel sick.

  Nick lets me help him out to the car. He seems to be waiting for me to say more, but I’m not sure what he expects. I’m not about to ask for his advice on dealing with Adam, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to offer any unsolicited. The drive into town is just as awkwardly silent as our dinner, but I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to play through possible conversations one more time.

  When we reach the bed and breakfast, I find myself praying that Adam’s car will be gone. But it’s still in the exact same place I saw it earlier. It looks like there’s no avoiding this.

  Delilah Hodge, the owner, recognizes me when we step inside.

  “Clara,” she says brightly. “How good to see you again. How can I help you?”

  “I’m actually here to see Adam,” I tell her. “Adam Bennett. He’s a friend from back home. He’s in, I’m assuming?”

  “Right upstairs, the first room on the left.” She pauses as if something has suddenly occurred to her. “Is he expecting you?”

  “Yes, don’t worry,” I assure her. “I won’t be long.”

  I move toward the stairs before she can ask any more probing questions, pulling a limping Nick along with me. He still hasn’t said anything, but I can tell from the look in his eyes and the frown on his lips that he wants to.

  “You promised to stay outside the room,” I whisper to him. Just in case he has other ideas now that we’re here.

  “I didn’t promise anything,” he replies, his voice just as hushed. “But I’ll wait outside until you need me.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  I know he doesn’t believe me, but I’m not going to spare the time to argue with him now. If I don’t do this tonight, I’m afraid I won’t work up the nerve again.

  When we reach the room, I make sure Nick is out of sight of the doorway, a few steps down the hall. I shoot him one more warning look before lifting my hand and knocking at the door.

  “Adam? It’s me.”

  The door swings open immediately, with Adam looking somewhat out of breath. Almost as if he sprang for the handle the moment he heard my voice.

  “Come in,” he says breathlessly, stepping aside. “I’m glad you came, Clara.”

  I step into the room without another glance at Nick. Hopefully he keeps his promise and stays out of the way.

  But Nick falls out of my mind the moment I’m alone with Adam. He looks nervous. And eager. And relieved. And wary.

  “Please, sit,” he says, guiding me toward the bed.

  “I’d rather stand,” I say, slipping away from the arm he tries to put around my waist. “Adam, I came here to talk. And I need you to listen.”

  I only wait for him to give me an accepting nod before taking a deep breath and plunging into the speech I prepared. It comes out in a rush—why I felt like I had to leave, why he’s better off without me, why I won’t be going back to New York. I try to be kind but firm—after all, most of this has nothing to do with him at all, not directly. But that doesn’t change the fact that we can’t be together, not in the way he wants. Not if I’m to remain sane.

  I try to be as gentle as possible, try to explain everything in a way I think he’ll understand, but the more I talk, the more his face hardens. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t want to understand. And I don’t blame him, not one bit. But that doesn’t change anything. I have to be strong.

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been speaking when he finally cuts me off with a jerk of his hand.

  “Do you even hear yourself, Clara?” he says, his voice laced with anger. “Do you realize how insane you sound right now?”

  My hand curls into a fist at my side. I expected anger from him, I remind myself. But that doesn’t make it any easier to face.

  “I know this is a lot to take in,” I say carefully. “I’m still trying to articulate all my—”

  “This has nothing to do with how you’re articulating anything,” he snaps. “You’ve lost your mind. That’s obvious.” He steps closer to me. “We had everything together, you and I. You had everything a woman could ever want. A meaningful career. A great salary. A man who loved you no matter what, who wanted to marry you.” His eyes glint. “I still love you, Clara. And I still want to marry you, even after all this madness. You’re just nervous about the wedding—I understand that. I’m nervous, too. But that’s no reason to throw your whole life away. We’ll work through this. Just come home. Your family misses you. Your friends miss you. We’ll get you all the help you need to work through this. I’ll set up an appointment with your old therapist. She’ll put your head on straight again.”

  I shake my head, and my nails dig into my palm. “I’m not going back.”

  “Clara.” He says it with exaggerated patience, as if speaking to a misbehaving dog. “You know you let your emotions get in the way of your brain sometimes. Don’t do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”

  “This isn’t about my emotions.” Not entirely, anyway. “I’m thinking quite clearly, thank you.”

  He gives an exasperated sigh. “Clara, enough with these games! We both know you’re coming home with me. I can forgive you for having cold feet. I can even forgive you for taking up with some uneducated backwoods farmer, if you needed to get that out of your system. But my patience only goes so far. We’re getting married. It’s already been announced everywhere. And I’m not going to let you humiliate the both of us just because you’ve suddenly decided to become one of those flighty, indecisive women you know I hate. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?”

  I don’t get the chance to answer. I didn’t call for help, but apparently that doesn’t matter. The door suddenly swings open, and Nick stands on the threshold. And he looks ready to kill.

  Nicholas

  The moment I hear the man’s voice rise behind the closed door, I can’t seem to help myself. I open the door, my fists curled at my sides, ready to attack him. I’ve seen his temper—I know how violent he can be. And he has no idea what I’m willing to do for the people I care about.

  Have I really come to care about Clara? I suppose I haven’t thought much about it before this moment, but I can’t deny how I’m feeling about her. How I’d do anything to keep her from harm.

  “Nick.” Clara’s voice is low and even. “Now isn’t the time—”

  “Is this knave threatening you?” I look between the two of them. “We’ll depart at once—”

  “Knave?” Clara’s fiancé laughs. “Breaking out the two-dollar words, are you? Where’d you pick that one up? At the farmers’ ball? Or maybe you actually read something before you dropped out of high school?”

  Clara glares at him. “This. This
is why I don’t want to be with you. I don’t need any part of it.”

  “Of what? Being part of a society that actually values education?” He shakes his head at her. “What’s gotten into you, Clara? We used to make fun of buffoons like this guy. Talk about their backward ideas—”

  “No. You said all those things. I…I never…” She presses her lips in a line, turning to me. “I don’t want to be part of it anymore.”

  “Then you don’t have to,” I say. I turn my gaze to Adam. “The lady has verbalized her wishes. You’d do best to honor them.”

  He chuckles. “Or what? You’ll call me a knave again? It’s not like you’re going to be able to do much more than that. I felt your weak-ass ability to defend yourself this morning.” He nods in my direction. “Looks like I did a hell of a lot more damage to you than you could ever do to me. You should probably remember that if you’re thinking about attacking me again.” He winks at me, mocking me.

  Rage boils in my chest, and I can’t seem to help myself. I charge at the man, ready to strike.

  I’m nearly to him when I feel something hit my chest. Clara has stepped between us and is doing her best to hold me back. “Nick. He’s not worth it.”

  “Oh, I’m not worth it?” Adam clucks his tongue. “But him… This backwoods farmer…” He almost spits out the word. “He’s worth it? Why? You really think your charity is going to somehow turn him around? Turn him into one of us? Are you stupid?”

  Her hands grip my shirt, almost begging me not to attack the man. I could move her aside easily, but something stops me. I grasp her wrist, sliding her hand into mine as I look down at her.

  My gaze never leaves hers as I speak. “As I said, the lady has spoken her wishes.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Adam takes a step toward us bringing him almost to Clara’s back. He places a hand on her shoulder.

  “Unhand her,” I say, not even looking over at him. My eyes seem to be locked with Clara’s.

  “Unhand her?” He laughs. “Seriously, who the fuck do you think you are?”

  I lift my gaze to meet his. A large part of me wants to tell him. It would be so easy to make him look like a fool—to tell him I’m Prince Nicholas, fourth son of King Edmund of Montovia. But when I look into Clara’s pleading eyes, I know I can say nothing of the sort.

  Instead, I clear my throat, taking a step backward but not releasing her hand. “No one. I’m no one.”

  “Damn right you are. And you already know who I am. Clara already knows who I am. I think she’s just forgotten who she is.”

  “Is that true?” I look down at her again, her hand still clasped in mine. “Have you forgotten who you are, Clara?”

  “No.” She turns to Adam. “I haven’t forgotten anything. And I’m not going back with you, Adam.”

  Clara

  Adam is not going to let this go, I can tell. But I can’t let this devolve into a fight again. That won’t end well for anyone.

  Fortunately, at that moment, rescue arrives. Delilah appears in the doorway, frowning in concern.

  “Is everything all right in here?” she asks. She doesn’t cross the threshold, but she pokes her head into the room, looking from one of us to the next. “I thought I heard an argument.”

  I see my chance, and I’m not going to let it slip through my fingers. Even if Adam’s upset, he’s not going to cause a scene in front of a stranger.

  “Actually, Nick and I were just leaving,” I say cheerfully. “Thanks for checking in on us, Delilah. And don’t forget—you promised me your French toast recipe.”

  She straightens, and if her concern doesn’t completely disappear, it at least takes a backseat to her duties as hostess.

  “Of course,” she says, beckoning us out into the hall. “I made a recipe card for you. Let me go find it.”

  I lead Nick out of the room and down the stairs, and though I feel Adam’s eyes boring into my back, he doesn’t try to stop us. I knew he wouldn’t, but I won’t feel relief until we’re safely in the car, on our way home.

  This was a disaster, I think. This night was supposed to end things once and for all, not make them worse. This was supposed to be done.

  Delilah brings me a recipe card she copied just for me, and I give her my friendliest, most gracious smile before leading Nick outside. It takes every ounce of willpower in my body not to turn and look up the stairs to see if Adam is watching us. I don’t think he’ll cause a scene, but my confidence in that grows less and less sure every step we take.

  When we’re finally locked inside the car, I exhale loudly. But I don’t feel nearly as relieved as I expected to.

  I spin on Nick. “Why the hell did you jump into the middle of that? I was handling things!” I hit my hand against the steering wheel. “I knew this would happen if the two of you came face-to-face again. I didn’t want a fight. I just needed him to listen.”

  “It didn’t sound like he was listening,” Nick says. “It sounded like he was yelling at you.”

  “He was upset. And in denial. But I would’ve gotten it through his thick head eventually. And then you had to burst in and make everything worse.” I lean down and press my head against the steering wheel. I don’t know why I’m blaming Nick for all this. I have no idea if I could have convinced Adam of anything, the way he was arguing with me. But I need someone to blame. This was supposed to be done!

  With a growl of annoyance, I sit up and start the car. I hate that this went so badly. And I hate that, no matter how much I try to foist the blame on someone else, I know it’s all my fault. I was the one who ran away without an explanation. I was the one who left my fiancé and friends and family worried and wondering. I was the one who purposefully provoked Adam this morning when he showed up at the ranch. I was the one who let Nick tag along with me tonight because I was afraid I wouldn’t have the strength to walk away from Adam on my own.

  The ride back to the ranch is as awkward and quiet as the one into town. I wish Nick would say something—yell at me, lecture me, anything.

  When he finally does speak, I’m so startled I nearly swerve off the road.

  “You realize you missed the turn for the ranch, don’t you?” Nick says.

  No, I didn’t even notice. I instinctively move to slam on the brakes, but then I think better of it.

  “I just need to drive for a bit,” I tell him. “Is that okay?”

  He doesn’t reply. I can guess what he’s thinking, though—that maybe driving when I’m upset isn’t the best idea. Especially after dark, on a long, winding road with no streetlights, no shoulder, and no cell phone service if we end up in a ditch somewhere. I know I should turn back, but I can’t make myself do it.

  And Nick doesn’t try to stop me.

  I drive for miles. I don’t really pay attention to how long or how far, and Nick says nothing in the seat beside me. At least it’s nearly impossible to get lost when you only have one road to follow. And the longer we go, the calmer I begin to feel.

  I could just keep driving forever, I think. Find another town to hole up in for a while. Maybe Adam won’t find me there. It’s a nice thought, but I know it’s not a realistic one. Now that I feel like myself again, the time has come to turn around and take us back. I’m just hoping Adam isn’t waiting for us when we do.

  Up ahead, the road widens just a smidge. It’s the closest thing we’ve seen to a shoulder in miles, so it’s as good a place as any to turn around. On either side of the road, shadowy pastures stretch out into the night, perfectly dark and still.

  I turn the car onto the stretch of shoulder, preparing to make a three-point turn. As I do, though, my car suddenly stutters.

  Oh, no, I think, panic rising. No, no, no, no, no…

  The car lurches forward once, then the engine suddenly dies. I curse at myself. How could I have been so stupid?

  Nick is already unbuckling his seat belt.

  “Open the hood,” he says. “I’m not especially skilled at working on cars, b
ut I had a little experience in the military—” He abruptly cuts himself off. “Has this happened before?”

  I still have a lot of questions about his military service, but they’re going to have to wait. Especially since this particular car issue has happened before. Only a couple of weeks ago.

  “Nothing’s wrong under the hood,” I tell him. “I’m just an idiot.”

  When he looks at me expectantly, I’m forced to go on.

  “I’m afraid we’re completely out of gas.”

  Nicholas

  It’s dark, and we’ve only the light from the headlamps that barely illuminates the interior of the car.

  I mumble under my breath—how could she not have checked to see how much fuel she had before we left?

  “Did you just curse in French?” Clara cocks her head. “We really need to talk about that on our way home tonight—”

  “And how exactly do you think we’ll be getting home?” I meet her gaze. “We’re at least a hundred kilometers from home—”

  “Yeah, we never really did get the hang of the metric system here, Nick.” She smiles. “But I’m glad you’re at least calling it home. After the stuff you said this morning, I wasn’t so sure.”

  “My home.” I let out a loud sigh—I really can’t understand how I can allow this woman to get me so flustered. “And to get back to the point of the matter, it’s quite dark. We’re a long way from anywhere. And there are creatures in the woods.”

  “Creatures?” Her smile turns more to a grin. “What sort of creatures do you think are out here, Nick? You think the cows attack when the sun sets?”

  “Mountain lions, for one. Bears. Wolves.” I shake my head. “Do you have a gun in your car? Or even a flashlight for that matter?”

  Her smile falls immediately, and she chews at her bottom lip. “I didn’t think about that. The bears, I mean. And no…I don’t have a gun. Or a flashlight.”

  “You should have a flashlight in your vehicle. You should have an emergency kit with at least a flashlight and a blanket—”