A Royal Affair Series: Book 1, 2, and 3: A paranormal, time travel, royal romance
Page 22
“Sit down, please. You look so tired,” she said. Walking over to the sofa, she sat down and patted the cushion next to her. Peter let himself flop next to her in an exhausted heap, dropping his head back to rest on the soft, flower-patterned cushions and sighing.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he said quietly and then added, “Emma told me everything.”
“You saw Emmeline,” Astrid said, taking his hand, and Peter rolled his head over on the cushion to look at her, nodding.
“How was she?”
Peter shook his head and looked away and then back at Astrid, “She’s a strong woman. But this…If I buy into this story of us in a past life—and believe me when I say much of it rings true to me—then I feel,” he let out a sigh pulled up from his toes and curled inside him, “I feel that marrying Alexandra would not only be a mistake, but an unmitigated disaster.”
Astrid patted his hand and nodded. “Yes, I agree, but what can you do?”
“I am confronted with an impossible choice. To be with the woman I love—and whom I have apparently loved for centuries—forsaking my father, my family, and my country. Or resign myself to my duty and marry a woman who I am coming to believe is truly evil.”
“It’s not a choice anyone should have to make,” Astrid said quietly.
Peter’s phone buzzed, and he looked at the caller ID. Since it was from the US, he answered immediately.
“Peter, it’s Marcel, my son.” The old man’s voice cracked, and when Peter heard him sob, he bolted up from the couch.
“Marcel, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“I am fine, but it’s our Emmeline, she’s…” Marcel was unable to stifle another sob while Peter could hear voices in the background. “She’s been shot, Peter. The doctor isn’t sure she’s going to make it.”
The brute force of Marcel’s news nearly flattened him, but then they got tangled in his mind and he assumed he’d heard his old friend wrong.
“Peter, did you hear me?” Marcel urged, when Peter took too long to respond.
“Emmeline? Marcel, how can that be? She’s been shot?”
Astrid was at his side in a heartbeat.
“Peter, can you come to the hospital? I-I know it’s a lot to ask but…”
“I will leave right now, but I’m still seven hours away. Is there a way I can speak with her doctor?”
“Yes, yes. I will give you his name so he can update you. Peter, our girl, if she doesn’t make it, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Marcel started to sob again.
“Marcel, she is the strongest woman I know. She will survive this, and I will be there as soon as I can.”
When Marcel could pull himself together, he gave Peter the contact information for Emma’s doctor and the hospital.
“Will you come with me?” Peter said to Astrid, who stood with tears in her eyes, nodding.
“I’ll grab a few things,” she said. “Shouldn’t need more than ten minutes.”
“I’ll order the plane and get the car and tell father.” Peter’s hands shook as he put the phone back in his pocket.
“She’s going to be okay, Peter.”
“Shot, Astrid?! How the hell does that happen?”
Astrid took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s tragic, but it’s New York. It can be a dangerous city.”
Peter grabbed his phone and hit a speed dial for the family’s private plane. “No,” he said as he heard the phone ring, “this is more. I can’t tell you what yet, but I know it’s more than coincidence.”
As soon as a person answered at the royal hangar, Peter ordered the plane again. He was told it was being serviced after the long flight, and Peter insisted they hurry up, telling the staff it was an emergency. His next call was to Emma’s doctor.
chapter 17
“You can’t possibly be serious, son,” Peter’s father said, his voice tense. Peter was in is room, throwing a few things into a suitcase. The plane would be ready in an hour, and he planned to be on it.
“I’m going with you,” Alexandra said from the doorway. How she managed to find out he was leaving was anyone’s guess, and frankly, right at this moment he did not care.
“I am going, Father,” he said sternly, and then he glared at Alex. “And I’m going alone. A dear friend’s granddaughter is in critical condition and may die. I need to be there for him.”
The King of Belgium threw his hands in the air. “Will you stop and think for one moment, son? You know how this will look, to rush to the side of the woman you used to be involved with? I thought we had agreed to put this behind us.”
Peter saw Alex behind him, her arms crossed, nodding.
“I understand, Father, and I will be discreet.”
Peter’s father glanced back at Alex, who still stood there looking pissed and defiant, and then looked back at his son.
“Then so be it. Marcel is a good friend, and I ask that you give him my best and tell him we are praying for his granddaughter.”
“What?!” Alex said, her hands flew to her hips, “You’re going to let him leave? To go sit with his whore?!?”
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but his father raised his hand to quiet him.
The King pinned Alex with a look loaded with royal ire, and said, “Ms. Dalca, I ask you to grant us some privacy.” And he backed it up with a look that said, Let me remind you I am still King.
After she left, he looked at Peter again and said, “I’m sorry, son. For a great many things.” And then slowly turned and left.
chapter 18
Alex stormed back to her father’s office, flinging the door open and then slamming it shut. Sebastian Dalca was on the phone and didn’t take the interruption kindly.
“Forgive the disturbance if you will, Sir. It’s one of the staff here at the palace who needs to work on their manners.” Dalca glared at his daughter, who let out a huff and flung herself into a chair, only to get up again a second or two later to pace in a feverish bout of energy. After he ended his conversation, he looked at his daughter and said, “Now what seems to be troubling you?”
“Troubling me?!?” Alex shrieked and then said in a more normal voice, “He’s going to see that whore again.”
“You mean the one in New York?”
“Is there another one?” Alex whirled, tossing back her long, dark hair, and paced toward the window. From this vantage point she could see Peter getting into the limo, and that interfering old busybody Astrid was with him.
“She’s in the hospital for some stupid reason, and he’s rushing to her side.”
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, “Did the King agree to this?” He frowned. “This seems…careless.”
“The King is as spineless as his son,” Alex spat.
Sebastian raised a cautioning hand. “You and I agree on his weak nature, but you should never vocalize it here in the palace. We must be careful and maintain appearances.”
“Fuck appearances!” She stormed away from the window, so furious she could barely contain her anger. “Peter needs to know his place, and he must be stopped from running off like this.”
Sebastian thought for a moment while he watched his daughter seethe.
“I’m going to speak to the King about moving up the wedding date, and I want you to get yourself pregnant so he has to.”
Alex couldn’t bear to tell him she’d never even slept with her intended, not that it was a conversation fathers and daughters normally had. But this was different. This was a business deal, and therefore certain things were expected of her.
On top of everything else, Alexandra didn’t need to be reminded how she had failed in that respect, too. As she looked out the window again, watching the limo disappear down the long driveway she hoped silently that the little bitch would die. Preferably before Peter reached her bedside.
When he called Emma’s doctor, Peter learned she was still in surgery. Since Emma’s surgeon was unavailable, Peter spoke to the chief of surgery, using his considerable leverage to get an update from him despite the fact that he wasn’t family.
He also arranged for Emmeline be given a private room on the floor that was often reserved for celebrity patients. The chief of surgery immediately agreed to accommodate his wishes, suggesting an area of the hospital that was both private and included an attached bedroom so Marcel could remain with his granddaughter.
“Your Highness,” the surgeon said, “all we know right now is that Emmeline Avery was brought in with a severe gunshot wound to the chest. It missed her heart by less than an inch, and she was bleeding internally. She’s quite critical, I’m afraid. We don’t know at this point if she’ll even make it through surgery.”
Peter felt a chill penetrate to his bones. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, begin to imagine what he would do if he lost her.
“How did this happen? Does anyone know?”
“No, Your Highness, but I can find out who was assigned to this case and have the detective contact you with an update.”
“I know you’re very busy, but I would appreciate anything you can do to help. I am boarding the plane in about fifteen minutes, and we’ll be in the air shortly after that. How long will she be in surgery?”
“I expect another six hours, maybe longer, Your Highness.”
Peter wished to God he was there right now, and suddenly the almost nine-hour flight to New York seemed like ninety.
He looked over and saw Astrid watching him. She gave him a gentle, motherly smile, and he reached for her hand.
“I appreciate everything you are doing to help us,” he told the head of surgery. “I will be there as soon as humanly possible.”
chapter 20
Emma couldn’t figure out where she was. There was someone talking. No, actually, barking orders, demanding things that sounded like medical equipment. She was asleep but awake, enough so she knew she wasn’t home, but she didn’t know where she was. There was a tugging at her chest and something over her mouth and nose, but she couldn’t feel her body. Was she dead? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t open her eyes.
Then she saw the palace.
She was back at the palace, and it was 1867, and she was Anna-Maria again.
. . .
“We must get you to France immediately, Your Highness,” Liam insisted as the morning light began to crest over the hills.
No one had slept the previous night, and the only good news was the sole living guard was still alive, though barely. When he woke up, if he woke up, he might be able to shed light on what he had seen and heard. Maybe some small clue could restore their King to them.
“I don’t wish to go. My children and I need to stay here, to show strength.”
“Your Highness, they will be back soon to take over the monarchy. We both know it, and your children aren’t safe here. Neither are you.”
“We must find Fitz,” Anna-Maria insisted, twisting her hands nervously. She had changed out of her bloodstained robe with the help of Charlotte, who dutifully remained behind after the other staff fled. Though grateful for Charlotte’s loyalty, Anna-Maria didn’t care about herself or about royal appearances. She only cared about finding Fitz and keeping her children safe.
This time, the visit to the past was like none before. Emma felt only small shades of herself, and otherwise she was almost completely Anna-Maria.
And while the tiny part of Emma present within Anna-Maria knew she’d discovered where Fitz was being held prisoner, she couldn’t integrate herself completely enough with the Queen’s psyche to recall the information and pass on the knowledge to her.
“The gendarmerie and the army are doing everything they can. Even Germany and France are sending troops to help us find him. We will find him, unless…” Liam’s voice trailed off and Anna-Maria spun around.
“He’s not dead,” she declared, her tone final.
Liam executed a small, deferential bow. “Of course, Your Highness. But please, I must implore you, let us get you and the children to safety.”
Anna-Maria had to grudgingly accept that Liam was right. She knew in her heart that if Fitz were here, he would want them to get to safety, too. “I want you to go with us,” she insisted.
“No, Mum, we cannot. We are going to seclude you in a remote village where no one will know who you are. The story will be that your husband died in battle, an acceptable reason for a woman and her children to be alone. But if we all go, rumors will spread, there will be questions, and you and the children would most certainly be found.”
Anna-Maria felt her heart tighten. Leaving her beloved palace and allowing it fall to into the hands of murderers and traitors seemed very wrong, but Liam was correct. They needed to go their separate ways, and she needed to keep her children safe until Fitz was found and they could be reunited.
Emma felt Anna-Maria’s anguish rocket through her. She tried to follow the anguish and let it carry her deeper into Anna-Maria’s heart and mind, so together they could remember what Emma had discovered. But, try as she might, Emma remained locked in a corner of the Queen’s mind, unable to reach her and unable to recall what she’d learned.
chapter 21
Emma survived the surgery, but only barely. Her surgeon, Dr. Shepherd, one of the top cardiothoracic surgeons in the country, wasn’t optimistic about her eventual recovery. Peter and Astrid arrived about two hours after Emma’s surgery ended, while she was still in recovery.
The chief of surgery had guaranteed Peter the utmost security and confidentiality, even going as far as escorting them through the back entrance of the hospital. The chief secured the wing, as promised, and Emma was in an ICU in the private area as well. Though Peter desperately wanted to see her, first he needed to see Marcel, who had been coping alone through this entire ordeal.
The room for Marcel was also ready for him, but when Peter and Astrid arrived, it was empty. Instead, they found him sitting outside the ICU room, a small, sad figure sitting alone in the middle of a long row of empty chairs.
“Marcel,” Peter rushed to his friend, who stood up, though clearly with great effort. Peter pulled him in for a hug.
“I’m so, so sorry, Marcel,” Peter said softly, holding his friend. Marcel sank into him.
“I’m grateful you’ve come, Peter, so grateful.” Marcel’s voice was frail, and Peter was certain he hadn’t eaten since he learned Emma was shot.
“Look who I brought with me,” Peter said, stepping back enough to reveal Astrid, Marcel’s love from so many years ago that both of them had probably lost count.
“Astrid,” Marcel said, his voice surprised and almost cheerful.
“It’s good to see you, old friend,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”
Marcel’s breath hitched with a suppressed sob, and he swallowed hard and blinked damp eyes, clearly overwhelmed by both terror for his granddaughter and gratitude for the friends who’d flown thousands of miles to be there for him, and for her.
“I’d like to see her if I can,” Peter said. As he did, a tall man with dark, wavy hair approached them.
“Your Highness, I am honored to meet you. I am Dr. Ronald Shepherd.”
“First, please call me Peter, and second, is it possible to see her now?”
The doctor nodded, “Yes, but only for a few minutes.”
“Of course,” Peter said. “One moment, please.” He beckoned to Astrid, leaning closer to tell her, “I took the liberty of having food delivered to Marcel’s room. Please make sure he eats something.”
“I’m not hungry,” Marcel insisted, and Astrid took his weathered hand.
“You will eat, and you will rest. There is nothing for yo
u to do right now. The minute anything changes with Emma, her wonderful doctor will tell us right away.” She turned to the doctor with brows lifted, inviting his confirmation.
He nodded. “Of course, and I agree, Sir. You should eat and rest. You’ll be no good to your granddaughter if you get sick.”
“Peter,” the doctor said, “please follow me.”
Peter followed Dr. Shepherd into a room with two nurses, one bed, and a lot of machines. Emma lay still and silent, hooked up to all of them, and abruptly Peter couldn’t feel his own heart beating. He’d known she was critical, known she sustained life-threatening injuries, but to see her like this, pale and small and helpless, he felt a wave of sorrow engulf him, and then rage, and then sorrow again.
“As soon as I’ve finished here, I want to speak to the detective in charge of this case,” he said.
“She’s aware you’re here and is on her way. You have five minutes,” Dr. Shepherd said while he drew the privacy curtain around Emma’s bed.
Peter pulled over a chair and sat down, placing his hand over hers.
“Emma, my love, I’m here and you’re going to be all right,” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear.
Peter’s voice jolted Emma out of the 1800s. She could hear him but she couldn’t speak.
I’m here, Peter! She wanted to shout, but something wouldn’t let her. What happened to me? Where am I? Peter is here? How can that be?
“I love you, Emmeline, and I will remain by your side, or in the next room, until you are well again,” he whispered, but Emma couldn’t move or react, or even blink, and gradually, little by little, she sank back into the past again.
chapter 22
The carriage ride to France took longer than it should have, because Liam had told the driver to take the less-traveled routes, which meant rough roads, steeper terrain, and greater distances. They stopped only once to eat the provisions Cook packed before they said their sad good-byes and left the palace.