Box Set: Puppy and the Prince

by Nikki Steele

  She began to walk away. “You have twenty minutes to pack your belongings, then my guards will escort you to the airport.”

  Then she paused, turning back to me, her eyes soft. “I’m sorry Kate. In another time and place perhaps I would have agreed to this union.” Her eyes grew hard once more. “But my country comes first. Keep my husband’s necklace. I’ll just say that you stole it, too.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Baxter and I watched in silence as the limousine drove away. At my feet was my luggage, and in my hands were two tickets—one for me, and one for my dog. We were standing on the curbside of the airport; our flight was due to leave in half an hour.

  I’d never felt more helpless. When Baxter was hit by a car, I’d at least been able to do something—get him to a vet. The last time I’d been at this airport, at least it had been of my own volition.

  Now I was leaving against my will. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. I thought back over the previous weeks—Xander and I laughing as we walked Baxter, making love every time he was safely locked away. All of that was over now.

  He’d be devastated by my ‘betrayal,’ and in that devastation, his mother would marry him to a princess from another country. By the time he realized the ruse it would be too late.

  I tried to imagine returning to my previous life—one where I hadn’t known Xander. Emptying bed pans as I worked double shifts; walking my dog, alone, no one by my side. It had only been weeks ago, but already it was the distant past—beyond imagination.

  Had I come all this way just to be turned back now? I looked at Baxter, and a spark of anger flared. “Is this it? Does she expect me to just load you into a cage, buckle myself into a seat and roll over?”

  Baxter cocked his head. A low rumble began in the back of his throat, as if in agreement. “Well you know what?” I said. “She may be queen of a kingdom, but she isn’t the queen of me. I’ll be firetrucked before I give up without a fight!”

  The low rumble turned into an energetic bark.

  I thought through my options, because I knew that getting on that plane wasn’t one of them. Xander didn’t know I was gone. He wouldn’t, until I returned. I didn’t have his number, and I had my doubts about the success of placing a collect call to ‘His Royal Highness’ at the nearest castle.

  Could I just storm back and demand entry? Not likely. The Queen had been specific in her instructions—I was to board a plane for America; if I was seen returning to the castle I would be jailed indefinitely.

  Could she even do that? Who was I kidding, of course she could. She was a queen. She could do whatever the heck she wanted.

  Well, not anything, it occurred to me suddenly. She’d done this behind Xander’s back, which meant that he wouldn’t allow it otherwise. If I could find Xander and expose her…

  Then what? What would happen? Would Xander still abdicate? Did I want him too?

  I cared for him. And I loved him. Being a Prince was as much a part of his personality as being a nurse was a part of mine. I didn’t want him to abdicate for me. But I also didn’t want him to think that I’d just gone. Surely there must be another way!

  It all centered around that blasted amulet, the Star of Succession. If it hadn’t been lost… But it had. That might make our future uncertain, but there would be no future at all if I couldn’t get back to Xander.

  So what could I do? Could I sneak in? Perhaps slink inside a food van when it made deliveries to the castle, or climb up through the sewers? I wrinkled my nose. Vegetable Van it was.

  I looked about me. Now, how to order a taxi in French. And where to find the castle’s grocer.

  A small, boxy car straight puttered to the curb beside me as I raised my hand. It was red, and ancient; definitely not a taxi. It beeped, and a figure motioned me inside. I began to walk toward the cab rank and away from the red car, pulling Baxter with me on his leash. I might be on hard times, but I wasn’t about to get into some random stranger’s car.

  The car crept along beside me. It beeped again. Baxter scrabbled against his leash toward the vehicle. He began to bark as a window wound down.

  “Going my way?”

  His scrabbling became so urgent that it pulled me off balance. I turned, at the same moment that I realized I recognized that voice. “Richards?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “What on earth are you doing here?” I barely recognized him, dressed as he was in a casual shirt with rolled up sleeves, and a tweed cap perched upon his head.

  He looked at me. “Get in. We need to talk.”

  * * *

  My face was white when Richards explained. “I’m so sorry. All this time I’ve been thinking of myself—I didn’t stop to think how it might affect other people too.”

  “It’s fine. I needed a holiday.”

  “Holiday? Richards, she fired you the minute Xander left!” I stopped as the ramifications struck home, one after the other. “Do you have a family? How are you going to support yourself? Are you going to go to jail?”

  He shook his head. “She can’t involve the authorities, not if she doesn’t want news about the gem to become public. And I have a wife, but no children. Mara is a seamstress—we’ll survive until I find another job.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s because of me that it happened. If I hadn’t told her I knew about the Star of Succession...”

  “What’s done is done. And it couldn’t have been done any other way. I’m just glad I’ve still got contacts in the castle. They called when they saw you being trundled into my old limousine.”

  I looked him in the eyes. “I need to get back inside.”

  He nodded. “I was hoping you hadn’t given up.”

  I shook my head firmly. “Even getting arrested would be better than going home. If she wants to get rid of me, she’ll have to deport me.”

  “Which she will do, if you are caught again. Do you have any ideas?”

  I winced. “I’m a little light on the details at the moment, but I was going to hide in a… um, vegetable van.”

  Richards turned to me with a grin. “I’ve got a better idea. There’s a masquerade ball in four days’ time. His Highness returns that afternoon, and I’m told the King of Zurenstein will also be in attendance. If I were to guess, his mother intends to announce the engagement that evening. Stay with my wife and I until Xander returns. I’ll get you into the castle in time for the Ball.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Richards’ wife, Mara, was waiting for us when we arrived. She was short, with dark hair and the most beautiful French accent. “Ah mon chère, we meet at last,” she said, enveloping me in a hug. Then she stood back, hands on my arms. “And here I find you even prettier than my husband described. Please, come inside. You should not be seen.”

  The two lived in a quaint stone and timber cottage on the ‘castle-side’ of town, which, just as the name implied, lay in the shadow of the hill upon which the castle sat. It was large, as far as cottages went—well maintained, with several bedrooms, and a small yard out the back in which Baxter could play. Richards explained that it had been home to the Royal Steward of Alonia for as long as there had been a castle on the neighboring hill.

  “What happens now that you’re no longer the Royal Steward?”

  “I’ll be expected to move out within the month. But let’s not think about that now. We have an infiltration to plan.”

  Planning primarily revolved around a long conversation in French between Richards and Mara. As she directed me to the middle of the room, she pulled a tape measure from her apron and put it around my waist. “Arm up S'il vous plait.” Mara took the length of my arm.

  “I thought we were going to talk about how to get into the castle?”

  Richards shook his head. “That’s already taken care of.”

  “How?”

  He winked as Mara moved onto my neck. “When the time is right, I’ll make sure you enter. And it will be much more graceful than a vegetable van, I assure you.”


  “Then what are we doing right now?”

  “I told you, Mara is a dressmaker. If you’re going the Ball, you’ll need a gown!”

  * * *

  The next several days passed pleasantly, considering the circumstances. Richards attempted several times to contact Xander—why bother sneaking into a Ball if we could phone him direct—however he was unsuccessful every time.

  And so I sat and sewed with Mara, who still did all her stitching by hand. Occasionally I stood for measurements, or held out my arm so she could check fabric against my skin. The dress would be of the most beautiful dark lace over black satin, with a custom velvet bodice. Mara assured me it would be magnifique, and I believed her—she was a master of her craft. I wasn’t at all surprised when Richards told me that she often did royal commissions.

  Baxter spent most of his time either ‘helping’ Richards in the garden, or in the wine cellar beneath the house, sniffing at corners and cobwebs. Richards shrugged when I mentioned his strange fascination with the room. “That little puppy is smarter than most people give him credit for. Maybe he likes to drink, too?”

  Every evening Richards cooked good simple food. He was an amazing chef, taking vegetables from the garden and mixing them with local produce to create the most hearty and mouthwatering meals. Tonight, on the eve before the Ball, he was preparing saucissons, which I was told was a local pork sausage similar to a salami.

  Mara and I were putting the finishing touches on my dress while we waited. She snipped a thread, then held the dress up against me. “Beau,” she said, nodding in appreciation.

  After three days together, we had become close. “You really think so? I don’t feel beautiful,” I muttered. The Ball was tomorrow. The only thing I felt was nervous. “Mara, what if he doesn’t want me anymore?”

  She tsked. “Of course he will, chère.”

  “Well then what if his mother finds me before he does?” I said anxiously.

  She smiled kindly. “She won’t.”

  The thoughts wouldn’t stop—and suddenly, as the immensity of tomorrow dawned upon me, I was afraid. “What if he has to marry anyway, or I can’t get to him in time,” I whispered, voice catching. “I could get caught by the guards, or I might not even get in! What if-”

  Mara’s gentle hands caught my trembling ones. “Shh. You’re going to look radiant, chère. Tomorrow is your day.” She tapped her breast. “I feel it here.”

  “You really think so?” I asked quietly. I wanted to believe her so badly.

  She nodded, then pulled me into a warm embrace. When she stepped back, I was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “My husband and I were never able to have children. But if we did, I’d want my daughters just like you—strong, independent, beautiful. You won’t take no for an answer, not when your heart says otherwise. I know you’ll succeed.”

  Tears were in my own eyes, now, too. “Mara, that’s… thank you,” I said, lost for words.

  Mara opened her mouth, about to say more, but Richards entered the room. She settled for patting my arm instead. We both wiped at our eyes with a smile. “Just promise me this—you’ll let me make your wedding dress.”

  I nodded, grateful for her words of kindness, as the three of us sat down to eat.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mara and Richards were already up when I arose the morning of the Masquerade Ball. The rich smell of bacon wafted from the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry I slept in.”

  “Nonsense chère, we let you,” said Mara kindly. “You have a big day ahead.”

  Baxter skittered toward me at the sound of my voice, his nose and paws dirty. I winced at the trail of dusty brown prints he had tracked across the house, then began hunting for a broom to clean them up. “I’m afraid my puppy has been digging in your garden again.”

  I heard a chuckle from the kitchen. Richards walked in, wiping his hands on an apron. “He’s been a great help these last few days,” he said, as I swept up the dirt. “When I noticed he liked to dig holes, I simply told him where to dig. We’re almost finished the new garden!”

  “He listens to you?” I asked, broom pausing. That didn’t seem like Baxter at all.

  “It took a little bit of training, but we’ve got quite the system going now. I point to a spot, he digs a hole, I plant the flower and then he gets a reward.” He turned to the kitchen. “But here, brunch is ready. I made Tartiflette.”

  Tartiflette, it turned out, was a rustic combination of thinly sliced potatoes, smoky bits of bacon, caramelized onions and oozy, nutty, creamy Reblocohon cheese. It was delicious, and I had two helpings before I was done.

  Afterward, Mara and I started getting ready. The Masquerade Ball began as the sun set, though Richards told me that couples often arrived earlier in the day to walk the grounds and gardens.

  We started with my hair, which I washed and then Mara put in a chignon, gathering it into a ponytail before creating a sleek but classically beautiful knot at the nape of my neck. When every hair was perfectly in place, she turned to the task of my makeup.

  We gossiped as she worked—talking about the Queen, and Alonia, and of course, Xander. The people loved him; I was told in no uncertain terms that his abdication was not an option. She waved my worries away when I protested that the only other solution I knew was letting him marry the Zuri princess. “That is not an option either, chère. You two are meant to be together—I have to make your wedding dress, eh?” She looked me in the eyes, then winked. “Besides, my grandmother was half gypsy—I know these things.”

  When we were done, Mara held a mirror before me. I blinked—a stranger looked back at me, with flawless creamy skin, rouge red lips and delicate emerald eyeshadow. “Oh my goodness,” I exclaimed. I touched my cheeks hesitantly. “This isn’t me. This… this is beautiful.”

  Mara sat back with a satisfied smile. “Chère, I’ve just highlighted what you’ve always had. Your eyes, your smile, and your… ah, how you say it… seins?”

  I looked to Richards, but he was suddenly bright red. Mara took my hand, shooing him from the dining room. “Come. It is time to put on the dress, then you understand.”

  She moved to the table and pulled a trail of satin and lace from a white box, holding it up. I realized it was the dress we had been working on these last few days, though subtly different—a spray of color now threaded like a pixie amongst the black. When had she done that? I looked at her suspiciously. Had she been up all night?

  She held it up before I could look too closely, and I slipped out of the casual clothes I’d been wearing, letting them fall to the floor. Mara gave me an ooh la la when she saw my lingerie—I’d made sure to pack a selection of favorites when I left the castle.

  The dress slid in one piece down my arms and over my head; I was careful not to touch my hair or makeup. It fit wonderfully, as only a custom dress could. Mara moved behind, adjusting it slightly, then began to cinch the corset. She adjusted my breasts and the boning at the waist before tightening it again. “There. Now he sees your seins, yes?”

  I looked down. My eyes widened. Everything had been pushed forward and up, and I found myself blinking, half hypnotized. Seins indeed—my breasts looked amazing. Below them, the corset gave me an hourglass waist. I ran my hands in wonder along my curves. I’d never felt this beautiful.

  Mara showed me to a full length mirror in the main bedroom. My mouth dropped open. I’d never looked this beautiful, either. Reflected back at me was someone out of a movie—Gone with the Wind maybe, though more modern. My ball gown was wide at the base, graceful and flowing, tapering at the waist before lifting and accenting my breasts. It was tasteful and timeless, but oh-so-sexy too.

  And the color! Black satin behind dark lace, and then hand embroidered from my left shoulder in a sweep across the bust and down my right side—a thin, swirling band of color like a peacock’s feather in dark greens, blues and purples.

  I gave a swirl. The dress flared slightly, making me feel like a princess. “Mara, i
t’s beautiful.”

  She stood back, assessing me critically. “Oui. But in Alonia we have a saying. Le manteau de fourrure est rien sans un renard pour le porter. The fur coat is nothing without a fox to carry it. You are beautiful, mon chère. The dress just brings that out.”

  Behind me I heard a whistle. “Ooh la la.” Richards had returned and was staring at me wide eyed. “You’ll have the attention of every man in the room wearing that.”

  I blushed. “I only want the attention of one, thank you very much.”

  He chuckled. “A contact got word to me. His Highness has just now returned to the Castle.”

  “Xander’s back?” I asked swiftly.

  He nodded. “Apparently the cooks heard the uproar from the kitchen when his mother told him you had left. You’ll be pleased to know he didn’t believe a word of her story.”

  “Does he know I’m here?”

  Richards paused. “Yes… and no. His mother is smart—she knows you have friends in the castle, and so is keeping the staff away from him. The King of Zurenstein arrived last night; he’s keeping His Highness busy. But the head cook managed to get a note to the serving girl, and she managed to slip it to him when they ordered food. He knows you’re safe, and that you’ll see him tonight, but that is all.”

  He chuckled. “The delivery of the note coincided with a remarkable decrease in shouting throughout the castle. I suspect he’s very much looking forward to this evening.”

  “So am I,” I said quietly. I didn’t know what to expect. Or even if I would get into the castle. But I had to try. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I returned to America without seeing him at least one final time.

  And after that? I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want Xander to abdicate, giving his title to some foreign king. But I didn’t know if I would be able to live without him either, and it seemed that was the only other alternative. Whatever the decision, it had to be made while we were together. We couldn’t do it apart.