Stolen Kiss From a Prince

by Teresa Carpenter

  “No. Medicine will not help me.” Her heart wrenched at his obvious concern. He was such a sweet boy, and the whole world now believed she’d used him to get to his uncle. The situation was intolerable. “Come on. Time to return to the nursery.”

  After dropping Sammy off with Inga, Katrina returned to her room and went straight to the secret passageway. This was the first time she’d used it without Julian, but she found the hidden lever and the door swung silently open.

  A little nervous, she stepped inside. She remembered Julian pointing out his office when they were making their escape the night of the funeral. She hoped she could find her way.

  The last thing she wanted to do was publicly approach his office. Not now the whole of Kardana knew they were lovers. The need for discretion became imperative as the forbidden embrace posted in full color flashed before her mind’s eye.

  Quickly making her way along the narrow corridor, she found the stairs and went down two flights then took the first passageway on the left. She hadn’t noticed the two times she was with Julian—the night of their escape and the memorable night he’d insisted on having her in his bed—just how many passages made up the inner workings of the castle. A person could seriously get lost in here.

  Actually the prospect didn’t overly worry her at the moment. In fact, disappearing held a certain appeal.

  Except she wasn’t that big a coward.

  Keeping a low profile to prevent episodes such as this was one thing, leaving others to clean up her mess was another. She’d allowed her father and Jean Claude to call the shots three years ago because she’d been a traumatized innocent, but now she was an adult. She was responsible for her own actions.

  She warned Julian this could happen, yet she’d let him seduce her into believing they were safe tucked away at his home. This just proved there was nowhere the press couldn’t reach with their high-tech cameras.

  At the third door down, she paused to listen. Nothing. Did that mean he wasn’t in there, she had the wrong room or perhaps the rooms were soundproofed? Given the delicate nature and highly confidential conversations that took place in these offices, she suspected the third option.

  Mon Dieu, that meant she’d have to open the door to discover if Julian was inside. Crossing her fingers, she turned the knob and inched the door forward.

  “Marriage?” Julian’s voice.

  She sighed, thank goodness. She pushed the door another inch and froze. From the small view of books and statuary she knew immediately she had the wrong room.

  “Really, Father, when did you start believing the headlines?” The derision in Julian’s tone stung. She more than anyone knew the headlines were a gross overstatement of the situation, still she had hoped for a little sympathy.

  She backed up, intending to leave, but the sleeve of her sweater caught on the doorjamb. She tugged, but it held. Unfortunately, it was her right arm and she couldn’t see where it caught.

  The conversation in the room continued.

  “I am not talking about the headlines. Though you should know the reaction of the people is quite favorable. They are pleased at the notion of a royal romance.”

  “Romance always catches the imagination of the people,” Julian said dismissively. “It will pass as all gossip does.”

  Was it really that easy for him? Had he not considered her position at all? Katrina struggled with the captive threads. The sweater was already snagged beyond repair, but she dare not pull free and leave evidence of her presence behind.

  “You deliberately misunderstand me. I am talking about a serious romance resulting in a real marriage creating a family for you and Samson.”

  “You’re suggesting I get married to provide Sammy with a new mother?”

  “My son, we have seen how fragile life can be. I am telling you it is your duty to marry and provide an heir.”

  “You have two...that’s usually considered enough.”

  “Do not get flippant with me. This is important.”

  “This is too much.” The movement of Julian’s voice indicated he’d risen to pace. “I have all I can handle. I have neither the time nor the inclination to look for a wife.”

  Mon Dieu, that stung, too. For no good reason. She’d never presumed to think their relationship would go beyond this time and place.

  Liar, her conscious scolded.

  And, oh lord, it was true. She lost her heart to him when he asked her to hold his hand on the train. His vulnerability in that moment touched something deep within her. She’d been his ever since.

  “You found the time to be with Katrina,” King Lowell pointed out.

  “You begrudge me a little distraction?” Frustration frayed Julian’s control.

  “Only when it comes at the expense of an international incident.”

  “Jean Claude is a friend. He knows I would never hurt Katrina.”

  Really? Katrina bit her lip. She wished she were so sure.

  “Uh!” Her breath caught as she pricked her finger on the stubborn splinter holding her confined. Then suddenly the material gave and she was free. She checked to be sure no threads were left behind before fleeing to the safety of her rooms, tears staining her cheeks.

  *

  “Jean Claude is a friend. He knows I would never hurt Katrina,” Julian claimed, making a mental note to return his friend’s call as soon as he finished with his father. Which he prayed would be soon. This ridiculous conversation was a waste of his time. He would not be pressured by his father or anyone when it came to choosing a wife.

  Hell, there were days since the crash when he felt like he had to schedule time to breathe.

  The only peace he had these days were the scant hours he spent in Katrina’s arms. In those precious minutes he felt no demand for his attention, no political pressure, no claim of duty, no need to be “on.” She accepted him for himself and gave freely of herself.

  He lacked any desire to hurt her. And even less to replace her.

  When he saw the picture in the paper this morning, he knew it was bad. Knew Katrina would freak and his father would disapprove. The one thing he hadn’t anticipated was a demand from the King to marry and provide a family for Sammy.

  He should have. His father had been showing his fear of mortality lately. Muttering fatalistic comments and pulling back from his duties. Donal’s passing only made it worse.

  Julian refused to be the next victim.

  “I would rather not test the theory of friend over family.” Agitation lent a rosy hue to Lowell’s pale features as he rejected Jean Claude’s goodwill. Pulling rank agreed with him. He looked more robust than he had in months. “If you are not serious about the girl, send her home.”

  No!

  The muscles in Julian’s shoulders tightened. In full revolt he informed his father, “Out of respect for you as my father and my King, I have allowed you to dictate many things in my life. Who and when I marry is not going to be one of them.”

  “Julian, life is rarely fair. I know much is being asked of you, so I will drop it for now.” Unperturbed by Julian’s bid for independence, Lowell leaned back in his desk chair. “I have no doubt you will do your duty to the crown. The people and the press will serve as my heralds until you do.”

  “You forget, Father. I am a champion at ignoring the press.” His reputation for being cold had been well earned in that regard. Finally it served a purpose. He observed his self-satisfied parent with narrowed eyes. “Since you are in fighting form this morning, you may take the meeting on educational reform. Speaking of duty, it’s time you picked up some of the slack around here.”

  Leaving his father sputtering his outrage, Julian departed the King’s office. He was late for breakfast with Katrina and Sammy. He reached the terrace to find their places cleared. Only his setting remained, sans the standard copy of the paper.

  As he stood viewing the table, Grimes arrived with a folded copy of the paper on a tray.

  “Sorry, my lord. Ms. Vicente quite destr
oyed the first copy.”

  Damn. He wanted to be with her when she saw the picture.

  “Did she appear upset?” he demanded.

  “Yes, she seemed quite distressed when she left here with Master Samson about twenty minutes ago.”

  “Thank you.” Julian turned for the door.

  “My lord,” Grimes protested, “your breakfast.”

  He wasn’t hungry. But he’d also learned long days required constant refueling. Julian swung back, grabbed a croissant, tore it in half and stuffed it with eggs and sausage. As he passed Grimes, he instructed, “You may clear the table.”

  On his way to the nursery he tagged Neil on his mobile phone. “Where is Katrina?”

  “She’s in the gym.”

  “Thanks.” He adjusted his direction. Of course she went to the gym. She worked out daily. And the Lord knew he understood the need to pound out your troubles.

  “My lord—” Neil caught Julian before he disconnected “—security picked her up in the passageway next to the King’s office about ten minutes ago.”

  “Sh–” He bit off the profanity. “I’m going to the gym. See that we are not disturbed. Advise Carl my father will be taking the early meeting.”

  “The press secretary—”

  “Everything waits.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Julian ended the call as he entered the gym and turned into the men’s locker room. If he was going to go a few rounds with Katrina, he needed to be dressed for success.

  *

  Katrina landed a roundhouse kick in the center of the punching bag. It required little style but provided a satisfying impact. She followed up with a two-one punch. Yah, yah.

  Pulling back, she swiped at her cheek with her arm.

  Foolish girl. The gym was no place for tears.

  She struck at the bag again. And again. Anger at her self-deception burned in her gut. Had she learned nothing from her past experience? Just because she had feelings for a man didn’t mean he returned her regard. Obviously far from it.

  At least Julian hadn’t betrayed her. Small compensation as she dealt with the fact her feelings for the photographer were a mere pittance compared to what she felt for Julian. True love made a mockery of simple infatuation.

  The incident in her past paled next to the heart-wrenching pain she currently fought to contain.

  The disdain and frustration in Julian’s voice as he dismissed any involvement between them echoed through her mind. He obviously didn’t love her, yet she’d believed he held some affection for her.

  Never had she felt so alone.

  She abandoned the punching bag and sought to regain some sense of self by going through the discipline of her regular karate routine. She took a couple of deep breaths before beginning, flowing from one movement to another with rigid control, focusing mind and body on form and motion.

  She’d need all her wits about her when the repercussions of the photo in today’s paper began to rain down on her. If any pictures did remain from her past, now would be the time for someone to score big. Her name had been linked to two royal houses and she appeared to be the lover of a Prince. A compromising picture of her would be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. If not more.

  She should have stayed hidden in Pasadonia.

  Halfway through the routine she became aware of Julian standing on the periphery of the mat. She ignored him in the hopes he’d go away.

  He didn’t. He let her get through the routine and then he stepped onto the mat.

  “Nice moves,” he said. “Excellent timing and balance.”

  She completed two more punches before replying. “I practice often.” Without looking at him, she moved right into some quick kicks.

  “You’re upset.”

  She had no answer for the obvious.

  She wondered at his conciliatory tone. Was he not upset?

  “Katrina, I’m sorry you were alone this morning when you saw the paper.”

  “It does not matter.” She gave him the truth. What difference would it make if he’d been there? None. The picture would be no less devastating with him by her side. And given what she’d heard she wondered how sincere his concern would have been?

  He appeared in front of her, deftly catching the fist flying toward his face. “I need you to stop and talk to me.”

  In a flash, her pain turned to anger. He became her adversary. She retrieved her hand, reset her balance and attacked with a few round kicks that made him retreat. “I sent you sprawling to the athletic mat before, Your Highness. Perhaps you should leave.”

  “Katrina, we have much to speak of.”

  “Funny, I cannot think of a thing.”

  “I can be just as stubborn as you. I’m not leaving until we talk.” He gracefully advanced on her. For the first time she noticed he wore gym clothes. He bowed formally and took up a basic karate stance. “I know you expect the photos from your past to make an appearance. That’s not going to happen.”

  “So you have said. I can only pray you are right.” She responded to his bow and immediately went on the offensive.

  His defense and counterattack were perfect. She instantly recognized anger had affected his skills in their last bout and stepped up her game. She wouldn’t make the same mistake. He had reach and strength on his side, but she had finesse and agility on hers.

  Plus she was stronger than she looked. She made him sweat. Better, she made him breathless, which made it difficult for him to talk. She struck with an open palm, driving her point to the heart.

  The next few minutes were spent in physical exertion as she fought to put him on his ass again.

  It may be petty, but being dismissed as a distraction did that to her.

  The longer they fought, the fiercer she became. Perspiration dewed her skin, stung her eyes, weakened her. Whereas the sweat caused his T-shirt to cling to taut muscles. The harder he fought, the better he looked. Bastard.

  Grunts and yells filled the air along with the smack of skin on skin. Fury propelled her actions, but his reckless grin put her over the edge. She finally put him down, but he took her with him. She landed on his chest with a breath-stealing thud and a nasty sense of déjà vu.

  Pushing against the granite planes of his chest, she fought to right herself. The hard circle of his arms kept her pinned in place.

  “Let me up,” she said, careful to keep all emotion from her voice.

  “Not until you listen to me.” He tightened his hold. “You expect the worst. But don’t you understand? When the infamous photos don’t appear, you’ll finally be free.”

  “You sound awfully certain.” She knew better. Her only chance at certainty was lack of exposure. And that option was now lost to her.

  “It just makes sense,” he said, his arrogance showing.

  “None of this makes sense. Why would a paparazzo wait to sell a picture of us? The photograph in the paper was from the night of the funeral, more than a week ago. And your balcony overlooks the sea. The angle of that shot would have to come from the water.” She dug her elbow into his sternum almost earning her freedom. “It is a near-impossible shot.”

  “Katrina.” He rolled, putting her beneath him.

  “No.” She wedged her arms between them. She needed something, anything, to hold him at bay, to keep the pain contained. “You did this.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “THIS IS ALL your fault,” she whispered. “Seducing me, making me feel safe, giving me hope.”

  She knew in her heart she was being unfair. That he meant to reassure her. Too late. Her confidence lay shattered at her feet. She pushed against his chest. “Let me up.”

  “Katrina, listen,” he implored.

  “No. Let me go.” She attempted to roll him off her. His elegant hands framed her, holding her fast, preventing her from getting away. She went still. Wiggling would only embarrass them both.

  “I can’t stand for you to hide away from the world because of a past mistake,”
he explained, staring into her eyes, pleading for her to understand. “You’re better than that.”

  “My life is none of your business.” She looked away, unwilling to acknowledge his motives.

  “It is as long as you are here in my palace.”

  “A problem easily solved.” She pushed again, harder this time. “Let me up. I am going home.”

  He loomed large above her. “You aren’t going anywhere. You need to stop protecting yourself and live.”

  “Easy for you to say.” She turned her head away. “My life is not a game. People I care about can be hurt.” She couldn’t think beyond the rage, the hurt, not with the heady scent and feel of him distracting her.

  “If they truly care, they will be pleased to see you free of the weight hanging on you.”

  As if he truly cared. “They show their love by letting me make my own decisions.”

  “You mean they allow you to hide in the palace. Such a beautiful prison. I’m surprised you accept it. Surely it is too good for the severity of your crime.”

  “You do not know what you are talking about.”

  “I know you are a shining star but you hide in the background, afraid to draw attention to yourself lest you disturb the shallow life you’ve built around your fear.”

  Her chest tightened as the truth struck home. Her breath caught. She couldn’t breathe but her mind reeled. She told herself her sacrifices were for her family, to prevent further pain or embarrassment coming to them, but in reality she’d just been punishing herself for failing them. What a disappointment she was.

  “Katrina! Damn it, breathe.” He lifted off her, dragged her into a seated position. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Stop. Do not pretend now.” He may be right about her, but it changed nothing. She threw up an elbow to block him when he tried to draw her close again. “Do not pretend you care when I am nothing to you. Your time would be better spent looking for a wife.”

  He fell back on the mat beside her, nodded as if in confirmation. “You were in the passage near my father’s office. You heard him instruct me to—”