Heart's Demand

by Cheryl Holt

  “Lord Radcliffe,” Kristof gushed. “You’re a life-saver. Thank you.”

  “Who was that woman?” Radcliffe asked. “She was quite deranged.”

  “Deranged doesn’t begin to describe it, but don’t worry, you won’t ever see her again.”

  “I’d say that’s good for both of us, Your Majesty. You’re lucky her aim wasn’t any better.”

  “Yes, very lucky. She’s been out of the country for an extended period. Evidently her travels have affected her mental capacities.”

  “They certainly have.”

  “You have our most sincere appreciation,” Kristof regally said.

  Radcliffe waved off the compliment. “It was nothing.”

  “You must attend my wedding tomorrow as my special guest. You’ll be seated in the front row.”

  Radcliffe considered for a moment, almost as if he’d decline the honor, but ultimately he shrugged. “Why not? I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.”

  He smiled, and everyone in the room smiled too. The tension lifted, and the crowd started to applaud him and his heroic act. He nodded, accepting their admiration as his due, while Kristof silently seethed and tried to appear pleased.

  His injury was painful but slight, so he’d survive, but he’d suffered the mortification of being shot while the whole court was watching. His guards had behaved impotently, and a foreign stranger had had to ride to Kristof’s rescue.

  It was a humiliation too great to be borne, and he could only imagine how amused Katarina would be when she heard the news. Would his arm be in a sling during the ceremony?

  How disgraceful! How unmanly! Why couldn’t anything ever proceed as he planned?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “The King commands you attend him immediately.”

  Kat stared at Captain Romilard and the cadre of guards who’d entered her suite. Her smile was carefully blank. “I was just about to fetch my sister so we can walk to the chapel and pray. I can’t possibly accompany you now.”

  In reality, they were about to go to the old nursery to find the clothes Bryce had left for them.

  “The King said immediately, Your Highness.”

  “Tell him I’ll be there very soon, Captain Romilard.”

  For once, she was alone. Something had happened in the main hall, and there were wild rumors of a shooting or a murder, so everyone had hurried down to join in the excitement.

  Kat felt so disconnected from all of it that she wasn’t curious in the least. In her mind’s eye, she was already halfway to England with Bryce.

  When Romilard had knocked, Kat had come out to the sitting room to see what he wanted. Isabelle was in Kat’s bedchamber, peeking through the crack in the door and listening to the conversation. Kat had told her to keep herself hidden until they found out why he’d arrived.

  She was on pins and needles, every sound making her jump as she expected Bryce to sneak in and whisk her away, but so far there’d been no sign of him. With each passing hour, she was growing more unnerved.

  She and Isabelle had decided, unless they heard differently from him, they would don the disguising clothes and wear them the next day under their wedding finery. If Bryce showed up at the last minute, they would be able to yank off their gowns, appear to be boys, and ride away from Parthenia forever.

  “There has been an…accident,” Captain Romilard said.

  “What sort of accident?”

  “Miss Clementi has returned from Egypt.”

  Kat was surprised at how little emotion the announcement generated. “Bully for her.”

  “She tried to assassinate the King.”

  It was always amusing to prick at Romilard’s temper. “She tried to kill my brother, Nicholas?”

  “You know who the king is, Your Grace.”

  “Oh, you mean my cousin, Kristof. Since you state that she tried to kill him, I take it he survived.”

  “Yes, he survived.”

  “What was her weapon of choice? Did she slice at him with a knife? Did she shoot at him with a pistol?”

  Two slashes of red stained his cheeks. “She used a pistol.”

  “My, my, how very brave of her.”

  “Or mad,” Romilard countered. “She seems a tad deranged.”

  “Does she?” Kat blandly asked.

  “She suffered many difficulties on the road.”

  “How awful for her. I’m sure there must be someone in the palace who would commiserate over her story, but I guarantee you I am not that person.”

  He was spitting with offense, nearly choking on the scolding he wanted to vent over Kat leaving Pippa in Egypt. In the end, he bit his tongue. “As you wish, Your Grace. I won’t bore you with the details.”

  “Pippa shot, but she missed? Is that what you’ve come to tell me?”

  “One of the things. The King was grazed in the arm.”

  “The poor dear.” Kat oozed false sympathy. “I trust he’s recuperating?”

  “He’s in his private chambers, and I have orders to escort you to him.”

  “Why? I hardly have any nursing skills, and I am on my way to the chapel. While I’m there, I’ll pray for his speedy recovery.”

  He sighed, her recalcitrance irking him to his limit. “There has been a change of plans.”

  “What change?”

  “The King feels there is too much unrest among the populace, and it might be dangerous to have a public event tomorrow. With tensions running high, he doesn’t care to be out and about in crowds and riding in the scheduled parade.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re making no sense at all.”

  “He will skip the elaborate celebration.”

  Kat scowled. “We’re not marrying?”

  “Yes, you’re marrying. You’re marrying right now. The priest is in the King’s chambers. They’re waiting for you.”

  “Marry…now? I couldn’t possibly.”

  “You’ll have to explain it to the King. I’m simply the messenger sent to fetch you.”

  Kat’s heart was pounding so loudly that her ears were ringing.

  Her wedding was supposed to be in about thirty hours. She was supposed to have the entire afternoon, evening, night, and morning for Bryce to proceed. The ceremony couldn’t be held immediately. It gave her no time to get word to him, to warn him.

  “The wedding is tomorrow,” she mumbled like an idiot.

  “No, it’s today instead. I fail to see how it makes any difference.”

  “I can’t go through with it.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  What answer could she provide that would be believed? “Have you found my brother?”

  “No.”

  “It can’t occur without him there. My sister must be there too. I insist. You’ll have to locate them first. ”

  “Again, Your Highness, you’ll have to take it up with the King. But I must apprise you that—after Miss Clementi’s shenanigans—he’s out of sorts. You won’t be able to dissuade him.”

  “No one can force me.”

  Romilard shrugged. “You can marry today or marry tomorrow. As I mentioned, I don’t see how it matters.”

  Romilard’s patience was waning, and she was frantic, trying to stall, but she couldn’t think straight.

  “What became of Miss Clementi after the shooting?” She wasn’t really interested but hoped to lure him into gossiping, which would delay the inevitable.

  “The British lord who’s visiting, Lord Radcliffe? He caught her as she was fleeing the hall.”

  “Lord Radcliffe? How gallant of him.”

  “He was closest to her,” Romilard grumbled. “I had already left or I would have gotten to her.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” Casually she asked, “Is he still downstairs? Perhaps I should speak with him to offer my thanks for his valiant efforts on the King’s behalf.”

  “He was there when I departed, but there’s no time for dawdling. The King awaits.”

  Romilard gestured to
his men, and they moved to surround her. She stepped away and said, “One moment, please. I need to grab my shawl.”

  She whirled and went into her bedchamber where Isabelle was crouched in the corner.

  “You heard?” Kat whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Find Mr. Blair. Tell him what’s transpired. I can’t refuse to leave with them.”

  “I know.”

  “Your Highness,” Romilard called, “the King is in a foul temper. We oughtn’t make it worse by lollygagging.”

  Kat swept out to the sitting room, and she glared at Romilard. “I will go at my own pace, Captain. Don’t command me. The King may be in a foul temper, but you haven’t begun to see how angry I can become. You’ve been on my bad side for months. Might I suggest you consider getting on my good side?”

  She sauntered by all of them, and while they were impatient and inclined to hurry, she strolled along, in no hurry at all.

  * * * *

  “We’ll teach you to fight. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Nicholas grinned up at the twins, Michael and Matthew Blair. They were his new chums, his new heroes. After Mr. Blair of course. No one could ever take his place in Nicholas’s regard, but his brothers were a close second.

  “I’ve always thought I should learn to defend myself,” he said. “I won’t be much of a ruler unless I can thwart my enemies.”

  “I absolutely agree,” Matthew replied. “Every boy should learn how to defend himself, but how to muster a solid offense too.”

  “I’ll teach you to fight dirty,” Michael said as Matthew said, “And I’ll teach you how to fight honorably and well.”

  Michael added, “You never know what type of punches you’ll need to throw. You have to practice both kinds.”

  “Since you’ll finish growing up in England,” Matthew said, “we’ll have to reflect on a stint in the British army for you. It would be beneficial. It would help you to acquire the necessary skills to come back here and seize what is yours.”

  “I would love to be a soldier,” Nicholas said. “My father and I used to discuss it, but since I was his only son, he believed the risks were too great.”

  “Nonsense,” Matthew scoffed. “We’ll put you in a good regiment. My stepbrother, Rafe, is enlisted at the moment. By the time you’re ready to join, I’ll buy him a commission so he’ll be an officer. You can serve under him, and he’ll watch over you.”

  “I’d like that,” Nicholas said.

  They were in the palace, outside the main hall. Nicholas was dressed in the old sweater and knitted cap Mr. Blair had given him, so there was no possibility of his being recognized. And with the Blair twins towering over him, he felt very safe.

  Not that anyone was paying any attention to them. There’d been an incident in the presence chamber, so people were running and shouting and it was extremely chaotic. Nicholas wasn’t certain what had occurred, but it was thrilling to stand on the edge of it and observe the frenzy.

  A footman rushed by, and Michael stopped him. “What happened in there?”

  “Miss Clementi attempted to murder the King.”

  “Who is Miss Clementi?”

  “A childhood friend to Princess Morovsky.”

  “Why did she shoot him?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Is the King dead?”

  “No, just grazed in the arm. If you’ll excuse me? I have to find the doctor.”

  Michael stepped to where Matthew and Nicholas were huddled in an alcove. He asked Nicholas, “Who is Miss Clementi? Do you know her?”

  “She’s the shrew who had us kidnapped in Egypt and brought back against our will. She might have been a friend of my sister when they were girls, but she’s definitely not now.”

  Nicholas glanced over and saw Isabelle walking by. She was being furtive, trying not to be noticed, which wasn’t difficult. With everyone in a panic, she might have been invisible.

  “Isabelle,” he murmured as she passed.

  She peeked around, searching for him. He lifted his cap slightly, and her eyes widened with surprise. She hurried over.

  “I thought you were with Mr. Blair,” she quietly scolded. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “I’m fine, Belle. These are his brothers, Michael and Matthew Blair.”

  “Hello, Your Highness,” the twins said in unison.

  “You won’t believe what happened,” Isabelle told them.

  “Yes, Kristof was shot,” Nicholas said.

  “Who cares about that?” she asked. “He was so shaken by the attack that he’s decided to skip the big ceremony he had planned for tomorrow. He’s ordered Kat to wed him immediately in his private chambers.”

  “What?” Nicholas gasped.

  “Captain Romilard came to fetch her. She refused, but he took her anyway. She sent me to advise Mr. Blair that there’s no time to delay. We have to save her.”

  “This makes things a tad more interesting,” Michael mused.

  “What should we do?” Nicholas asked him.

  He and his brother stared at each other for a lengthy period, almost as if they were carrying on a conversation in their heads, then Michael peered down at him.

  “Here’s what I need from you, Nicholas.”

  “Just tell me what it is, and I shall see to it.”

  “Matthew and I will locate Bryce, and the three of us will rescue your sister.”

  “All right,” Nicholas said.

  “While we’re occupied with that, you and Isabelle must sneak out of the palace. Stop by the nursery and retrieve the clothes we hid so she can change. Then scoot out as fast as you can. Have the horses saddled and wait for us at the secret spot we arranged.”

  Matthew asked, “Can you do that?”

  “Of course,” Nicholas scoffed.

  “You’ll have to be very brave,” Matthew said.

  “I am the Crown Prince of Parthenia. I was raised to be a king, and I will be a king someday. I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life, and I’m not afraid now.”

  Matthew nodded. “You’ll be a fine soldier when you’re a bit older.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Get going,” Matthew urged. “We’ll meet you at the secret spot.”

  Michael reached in his boot and pulled out a knife. He handed it to Nicholas. “If you have any trouble, use this. Don’t dither. Stab like you mean it.”

  Nicholas stuck the knife into the sleeve of his sweater. “I will. Where my sister is concerned, I won’t hesitate to protect her.”

  Matthew grinned at Michael. “I’m liking this boy more and more.”

  “Welcome to the family, Nicholas,” Michael said. “You too, Isabelle.”

  “We’re grateful that you’ll have us,” Nicholas replied.

  He bowed to the two men, and Isabelle curtsied, then she strolled away. Nicholas followed behind her as if he was her servant. They been highly trained, reared in the royal way, and they knew how to play their parts.

  * * * *

  “Where have you been?”

  Kristof barked the question at Katarina. It had been an eternity since he’d sent Captain Romilard after her.

  His head was pounding, his wound throbbing. The doctor had declared it to be a minor scratch, but it stung much more than Kristof could ever have imagined it might. He’d been doused with laudanum and had also downed three tall whiskeys. Opiates always made him nauseous, and the liquor being dumped on top wasn’t helping.

  He felt faint, and if they didn’t get a move on, he’d either vomit up the contents of his stomach or fall asleep before he could complete the vows.

  “Hello, to you too, Kristof.” She sounded quite snotty. “I see you’re in your usual sweet temper.”

  “I summoned you ages ago.”

  “You’re constantly laboring under the impression that you can command me.”

  “I’m not in the mood for your haughty attitude, Katarina.”

  “And I’m not in the mood for you
rs.” His royal arm was heavily bandaged and cradled in a sling, and she gave it a cursory glance. “I hear you had a problem with your chum, Pippa Clementi.”

  “The deranged woman almost killed me.”

  “It appears she missed.”

  “She didn’t miss. A few inches to the left, and I’d be dead.”

  “Lucky for you Pippa never was good at anything. I hope you’ve had her locked in the dungeons, for I must tell you—after how she treated me in Egypt—I really shouldn’t bump into her in the halls. It would be…unpleasant.”

  She flashed such a dangerous glare at Kristof that he could barely keep from flinching. How did she exude such imperious disregard? It was probably from being born to the title. She’d had twenty-five years to learn how to be imposing. He was only just figuring it out.

  “You must cease your complaints about Pippa,” he scolded.

  “Never.”

  “When she was with you in Egypt, she was serving the Crown.”

  “Pippa is a traitor to my family and a disloyal shrew. Don’t presume to extol her virtues. I won’t listen.”

  Kristof tried to match her glare, tried to seem as forbidding, but he was feeling ill and was simply desperate for the horrid afternoon to end.

  He gestured to the priest. “Let’s get on with it.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Kristof was seated in a chair and too wobbly to stand. He waved at Katarina so she’d come over and stand next to him. Instead she sat in a chair too.

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “We’re holding the wedding ceremony.”

  “I’m not speaking any vows.”

  “You are, Katarina,” he fumed. “Don’t argue over it.”

  “We’re supposed to have a grand celebration with the whole country fêting us. Yet you want to slink off and do it in secret. Why?”

  “The masses are restless. I don’t wish to stir the flames of discord.”

  “You’re scared of our citizens?”

  “At the moment, when my arm is throbbing and I could have died? Yes, I’m absolutely terrified of them.”

  “Our people don’t like you? I wonder why not?” She smiled a cocky smile. “They love me, and I demand the wedding I was promised.”

  “Well, you’re not having it,” he snapped.

  “My brother and sister aren’t here either. I won’t proceed without them. Nicholas planned to walk me down the aisle.”