by Peak, Renna
He holds out his arm, offering his elbow to me, but that simple gesture is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Nick snaps, leaping forward and practically shoving Caspar away from me.
“She’ll do no such thing,” Nick growls. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Cousin, but Clara is mine. Do you hear me? Mine.”
Caspar simply laughs. It’s a full, hearty sound, and despite the obvious tensions here, it doesn’t seem to hold any malice. With a start, I realize he simply enjoys riling up Nick as much as I do.
“You said yourself she’s just a friend,” he reminds Nick, who doesn’t seem to notice his cousin is purposefully egging him on. If anything, Nick seems to get even angrier.
“She’s mine,” Nick roars. “And she’s not just a friend. She’s my betrothed.”
At that word, the amusement falls right off his cousins’ faces replaced instead by confusion, then wonder. All three of them turn their blue-eyed gazes on me, studying me closer.
“You’re engaged?” Caspar says. “We’ve received no formal announcement.”
“Why didn’t Andrew or Leopold tell us about this?” rumbles Xavier.
Benedict is still studying me, a smile returning to his lips.
Nick realizes what he’s done, and some of the fight seeps out of his body.
“It’s a secret,” he says quickly without looking at me. “Not even my family knows yet. I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us for the time being.”
“Of course, Cousin,” Caspar says, grinning that crooked grin. “Your secret is safe with us.” To his brothers, he says, “Perhaps we should leave Nicholas some time alone to discuss things with his betrothed. She looks just as confused as the rest of us.”
My face gets hotter. I hadn’t meant to give anything away, but I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Caspar says. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Weaver. I look forward to getting to know you better at Wintervale.”
The three men make their retreat, strolling confidently through the gardens as if this were their palace. Nick doesn’t turn to me until they’re nearly out of sight around a curve in the path.
“I’m sorry,” he says before I can speak. “My cousins have always been too cocky for their own good.” Not a word about our engagement, or why he decided to use that as an excuse yet again. Maybe he feels no need to, especially since his cousins obviously saw right through it.
“Yes, they’re a little cocky,” I admit. “But they didn’t seem like bad people. Just some family members trying to get a rise out of you.” I grin at him. “At the very least, this should make our visit to Wintervale a little more interesting, don’t you think?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Nick growls, pulling me close to him. His grip on my waist isn’t painful, but it’s definitely possessive. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
Nicholas
After escorting Clara back to her suite, I return to my own to ready myself for supper, dressing in my formal suit. Dinners at the palace are always formal affairs when my father is present—it’s one of the many old traditions he clings to.
I can’t help but think how stiff my jacket is as I return to Clara’s suite to escort her to dinner. But all thoughts of my discomfort vanish when Clara opens the door for me.
She’s exquisite—wearing a navy gown that’s somehow proper but revealing at the same time. I can’t help but notice how the fabric clings to her curves in a way that makes her look more ravishing than any meal we might enjoy tonight.
“Eyes up here, cowboy.” She grins as she points to her eyes, shaking her head. “I should probably change. The maid laid this one out for me, but this dress seems a little too formal for a family dinner.”
“It’s perfect.” I have to force myself not to stare. “And you’re stunning.”
Her cheeks instantly turn a dark shade of red. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not.” I reach for her hand, taking it into mine before I lift it to my lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of her fingers. “Quite perfect.”
“You’re sure I’m not overdressed?”
I take a step back to admire her again, her hand still in mine. “It’s appropriate attire for a formal dinner, I assure you.”
“I guess you’re looking pretty formal, too.” She smiles again. “I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to act. I mean, I’m pretty sure I can handle the formal dinner and everything. Just not too sure about how to handle royalty.”
I shrug as much as my stiff suit will allow. “It’s no different than any other formal dinner. My father will lead. And you’ve really nothing to worry about. With my cousins here, his focus will be on them.”
“I’m sure he’ll want to catch up with you, too. He hasn’t seen you in months, right?”
I arch a brow, but don’t respond as I lead her into the corridor and toward the dining room where we’ll be eating tonight. There’s no way Clara can understand the relationship I have with my father. I doubt anyone understands—I don’t really understand it myself. Not that we truly have a relationship.
My father has only ever barely spoken to me. Most of his time was spent with my two older brothers—he molded Andrew in his own image, and of course, there was Leopold… Leopold has found himself in more trouble than the rest of us combined, but it certainly caught the attention of our father, though never in a good way.
I’ve always done what was asked of me, rarely complaining aloud. And that has suited me fine over the years. I just always thought that when the time came, I would leave the family and return only when it was expected of me—weddings and funerals and such.
We enter the dining room, and it is already bustling with activity. We’re the last to arrive—my cousins are huddled together in the far corner of the room. As the guests, they’ll flank my father on his right. By the looks of it, Clara and I will be seated near the end of the table, much as I always am when I’m attending a family meal of any sort.
Leopold walks over to me, his wife on his arm. “Hello, Brother.” He gives Clara a polite nod.
“Clara, this is my brother Leopold and his wife Eleanor,” I say.
“Call me Elle.” Leopold’s wife extends her hand. “And let me know if you need anything.” She glances over her shoulder before looking back at Clara. “This family can be a bit overwhelming, to say the least.”
“Thanks,” Clara says as she shakes Elle’s hand. “I can already see that.”
Leo grins. “I’m sure Nick will let you in on all the secrets.”
Clara turns to me, lifting a brow. “Hopefully.”
“I’m sure I’ve no secrets to share,” I say.
My brother chuckles. “Nick was always the good one. Kinda boring.” He shrugs, still grinning at Clara. “But boy can he land a punch. Remember when you clocked Justine’s brother at the festival? I think his jaw is still sore.”
Clara presses her lips together, obviously trying to hold back a smile. “Yes, he’s great protection.”
I narrow my gaze at the lot of them. “I only protect myself if it’s absolutely needed.”
Clara looks as though she’s about to burst out laughing, but I’m thankful she doesn’t share the story of the altercation I had with her ex-fiancé.
Leo claps me on the shoulder. “He’s a good chap, this one.”
My mother enters the room, followed only a moment later by my father. And the room goes instantly silent as we all watch him sit at the head of the table.
My mother sits next, then the rest of us sit in our assigned chairs. Clara and I are at the opposite end of the table with Sophia and Pax across from us. Andrew and his wife Victoria sit next to them with my cousins between Andrew and my father.
The room remains silent until my father motions for dinner to be served.
The salad is brought out first, and as soon as my father begins to eat, the clinking of forks begins.
My father
turns to my eldest cousin, Caspar. “Now what is this business I hear about Wintervale seceding from Montovia?”
Andrew looks like he’s about to choke. “Father—”
“I asked Caspar, Andrew.” He gives my cousin an icy stare. “Is this news true?”
“Our citizens are the ones who have been speaking of it, Your Majesty. It’s the reason we’re here.”
“Is it?” My father cocks his head in a way that shows he already knows the answer. He takes another bite of his salad, chewing thoughtfully for a long while, though his gaze never leaves my cousin.
It seems no one at the table dares to break the silence. I can feel Clara’s discomfort beside me, and I pull her hand into mine under the table, giving her a silent squeeze of reassurance.
She gives me the smallest of smiles, and we return to eating.
Everyone is quiet, silently eating until my father speaks again. “Tell me, Caspar. What exactly is it that your citizens want?”
My cousin looks as though he might have defecated himself. “Did I say my citizens, Your Majesty?” He gulps, giving my father a weak smile. “Of course I meant our citizens.”
“No, you said our citizens the first time.” My father takes another bite of his food, causing another long, awkward pause. He takes a drink from his water glass, staring at my cousin.
He finally speaks again. “I’m going to help you, Caspar. You meant to say your citizens. Meaning my citizens. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.” My cousin gives him a vigorous nod. “Of course I meant your citizens. I only meant that everyone in Montovia is our countryman.” He forces a weak smile, glancing around the table. “Isn’t that right?”
I merely lift a brow. There is no way I am going to involve myself in this conversation—the dinner table is the absolute last place I would ever want to engage my father.
When no one answers my cousin, my father’s face softens the slightest bit, though I wouldn’t call it a smile.
“I’m certain we can sort this out without going to war.” My father’s abrupt statement makes everyone at the table stop mid-chew.
Andrew looks like his eyes might pop from his head. “Father, I don’t think anyone has spoken anything of war—”
“Of course they haven’t. But they were thinking it. Weren’t you, Caspar?”
My cousin’s mouth falls open, and he looks down the table at me. “No. No, I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort, Your Majesty.”
My father follows his gaze and looks at me. “Did you have something to add, Nicholas?”
I give a small shake of my head and am about to return to eating my dinner when Clara speaks—out of turn and completely inappropriately.
“We’re going to go to Wintervale, Your Majesty. Nick’s not going to let anyone go to war.”
Royal Escape #4
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, locations or incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Ember Casey and Renna Peak
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: July, 2018
Clara
Two months ago, if you’d told me I’d find myself in Montovia, sitting next to Prince Nicholas on the way to his family’s country estate, I’d have told you you were crazy. My life still doesn’t feel like it’s real.
The scenery outside the car window is absolutely beautiful. There are lush, green hills in every direction, some covered in forests and others dotted with farms or small villages. In the distance, purple mountains with white caps poke into the sky. In some ways it reminds me of Montana, but in others, it’s very different.
Beside me, Nick is looking stiff and nervous. He was the one who initially suggested we head out to Wintervale, but that was before he realized how complicated the situation is with his cousins. I’m not sure I fully understand it myself. I keep my fingers laced through his, but if that helps him, he doesn’t show it.
Eventually, the hills begin to flatten. Then, up ahead, a broad, shining lake comes into view, glittering under the midday sun.
“We’re nearly there,” Nick tells me.
I plaster my face to the window, trying to see as much as I can. The lake appears to be surrounded by trees on most sides, but on the last, there are wide, green lawns sloping up from the shore, leading to a beautiful manor house. It’s not nearly as large as the royal palace back in the capital, but even from here I can see that it’s just as ornate and beautiful.
“Is that it?” I ask him.
“Yes.” Nick seems to be keeping his tone as neutral as possible. Only yesterday, he was trying to convince me that I might prefer the country estate to the royal palace. But after dinner last night, he’s much more reserved.
The driver turns onto a long, winding road that leads toward the house. I take in as much as I can—the wide fields dotted with wildflowers, the pastures where horses graze. The closer we get to the house, the more manicured the grounds become, until soon we’re passing ornate gardens with fountains and sculpted trees.
The manor house is quite imposing up close, but no less beautiful for it. A pair of stone eagles guard either side of the staircase leading up to the broad entryway, and what I recognize as the royal crest of Montovia is carved over the double doors. The Montovian flag flies from the building’s tallest point, and just below it, another flag I don’t recognize. I wonder if that’s the crest of this branch of the family.
When the car finally stops, I don’t even wait for the driver to come around before I jump out of the vehicle. Nick climbs out behind me, still looking subdued.
People have already started appearing in the doorway above. Nick’s cousins departed the palace several hours before us this morning, and they appear to have informed everyone about our arrival. Several men I assume to be valets hurry down the steps and immediately move toward our luggage. Behind them, at a much more leisurely pace, comes Caspar, the oldest of Nick’s cousins.
As usual, Caspar has a smile on his face, even though tensions are high between his side of the family and Nick’s at the moment. Even though he’s far, far down the line for the throne, Caspar looks every bit the prince this morning. His clothing is crisp and regal, and he carries himself like a man who knows his place in the world. The breeze ruffles his red-gold hair as he strides toward us.
“Cousin,” he says, giving a bow of his head to Nick. “I hope your journey was easy and uneventful.” Then he turns to me. “And Ms. Weaver. A pleasure, as always.” He takes my hand and, just as he did yesterday when we first met, kisses my knuckles.
I pull my hand away before Nick can get jealous.
“We’re happy to be here,” I say, because that seems like the polite thing to do—and, in my case at least, it’s the truth. “Thank you for having us. This place is beautiful.”
“I’ll have to give you a tour later,” Caspar says.
“I’d love that.”
Caspar’s smile widens. It’s a perfectly friendly smile, nothing more, but I feel Nick stiffen beside me.
I slip my arm casually through Nick’s. “I’m sure Nick would love to come, too.”
“I don’t need a tour of Wintervale,” Nick says. “In fact, I could give Clara a tour myself.”
“Either way,” I say quickly, trying to de-escalate things, “I’m excited to see it.”
“But first we’d like to see our room,” Nick says.
“Room? Just one?” Caspar’s eyebrows go up. “We’ve had two separate suites prepared for you.”
“Clara is my betrothed. We’d prefer to share a room.”
“I…I see.” Caspar no longer looks confused, but rather amused. “Forgive me, Cousin, b
ut I thought the betrothal was a secret. Has that changed? Do you want the whole manor to know?”
Nick’s mouth tightens, and I’m afraid he’s going to do something rash.
“Separate rooms are fine,” I say. “There’s no need to start any rumors. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time in each other’s company.” And it’s not like one of us can’t sneak into the other’s room if we’re so inclined.
“Then it’s settled,” Caspar says. “Come right this way—I’ll show you to your suites.”
Nick still looks like he wants to punch something—or someone—as we climb the stairs behind his cousin. I squeeze his hand and lean into his side, letting my head tilt against his shoulder for just a second.
“Let’s have fun here,” I murmur to him. “Maybe we can go horseback riding later?”
That perks him up a little. “Whatever you desire, Clara.” He lifts our intertwined hands and kisses my fingers, and I smile. Nick might not be as naturally charming as Caspar, but he’s trying. And I know he cares about me.
The inside of Wintervale Manor is nearly as beautiful as the inside of the royal palace. Everything is lush and ornate, from the patterned carpet to the gilded wallpaper to the gold-edged mirrors hanging at regular intervals along the walls. But nothing inside is as stunning as the views through the windows—in every direction the land is beautiful, whether we’re overlooking the gardens or the mountains or the lake. I can’t wait to get on the back of a horse and explore it with Nick.
Our suites, thankfully, aren’t all that far from each other—only just down the hall. Nick insists on following me to mine—apparently he refuses to leave me alone with Caspar for even a few minutes. Silly weirdo—doesn’t he know I have eyes for him and him alone?
“I’ll let you get settled,” Caspar says. “Why don’t the two of you meet me in the lake gardens in an hour? I’ll tell Benedict and Xavier. We can have ourselves a nice little family meeting.”
“That sounds great,” I say before Nick can grumble a response.
