Then why had it been in EJ’s hand? Had EJ had a change of heart?
"Please return to the party. Your uncle will be dealt with—"
"No."
Her eyes flicked to him in surprise. Maybe she wasn't used to being refused.
"He's sick," Cody gestured at his uncle. "He has a bad heart." Even if his uncle had had intentions of doing something he shouldn’t he was family, and Cody wouldn’t just walk away.
EJ's breaths had started to go shallow, but he still stood upright by his own power, which Cody counted as a good thing.
She looked to EJ and back. "The fact remains that he attempted to steal from the royal family and must be punished."
Seriously? She couldn’t give him a break? It wasn’t like he’d actually gotten away with anything.
Uncle EJ had gone from white to a pasty gray, and Cody was growing more worried by the second.
"I took it." The words were out before he'd thought anything through. Blame it on his brain injury, maybe or his worry for his uncle. "I was trying to take the rose and Uncle EJ came in here to stop me."
Another guard came in. The first had probably summoned him with that little mic on his lapel.
The crown princess's eyes locked on him, and Cody felt a momentary blip of unease at the lie. One look at his uncle erased it.
"Really? Maybe we should visit the security room and run the tapes back." She didn’t believe him. He could see it in her eyes. "Because you're going to have to stay here in Glorvaird until we can resolve the matter. Weeks. Maybe even months. And if you're found guilty of attempted theft against the crown, you'll be imprisoned. You're sure you want to stick with that story?"
"I'm sure. Now can you get my uncle to a doctor?"
The second guard took hold of Cody's upper arm. Firmly. But Cody didn't have any intention of trying to get away, not if they would help his uncle. There was plenty of time to get his lawyers involved later.
He heard the crown princess instruct the first guard to find a doctor among the partygoers—and not to let EJ out of his sight until he was on a plane back to the States.
The second guard spoke into his lapel, asking for a doctor, but before anybody'd moved, a flash went off. Then another.
The crown princess gasped softly and whirled away from the photographer that must've followed his nose to such a juicy story. She bumped into Cody's arm in her haste, close enough now to touch if he dared.
He didn't.
"Don't move." The hulking guard in the suit’s voice held enough authority, Cody wasn’t dumb enough to disobey. The guard let him go and rushed off toward the man with the high-tech camera.
Dude was still taking pictures. Cody could hear the click of his digital machine over the guard's footsteps and he did the only thing that came natural to him.
He took the princess's elbow, stepped in front of her, and shifted her behind him, out of sight of the cameraman.
For a long moment, he looked down at her, saw the surprise and vulnerability in the depths of her eyes.
Then her expression shuttered, and she jerked her arm away. "Don't touch me," she hissed.
He nodded, raising both hands like he would if he'd frightened a filly he was trying to saddle break. "I'm sorry."
He was sorry for all of it. Sorry Uncle EJ had gotten him into this mess. Sorry a reporter had gotten it all on film. Sorry he’d caused a scene that had put the princess in distress.
He had no idea what was going to happen now, but as he watched the first guard escort EJ out of the hall to meet a doctor, he could at least feel he'd done one thing right. EJ would be okay.
He had to be.
The next morning, Eloise braced herself before pushing through the door to her father's suite for their weekly debriefing. Jill bustled along behind her.
Eloise had already seen the morning's headlines, so she anticipated that her father wouldn't be happy.
She wasn't happy either. She'd spent a restless night after the reception had finally wound down in the early hours of the morning. No doubt she looked horrid this morning, thanks to the lack of sleep.
And what foolishness had kept her up all night? Nothing but brooding about the cowboy who was her newest, biggest problem.
Not enough she’d had to have the man—a friend of her new brother-in-law—detained. But to have his face staring back at her from the morning paper, thanks to the awful photographer who'd burst in on what should've been a private issue. By the time the security team had caught up with the photographer, he'd been surrounded by people, and they'd been unable to force him to give up the digital files of the photos he's taken The wily man had apparently been close enough to overhear her unleash her temper, and now the entire country knew she planned to prosecute the cowboy.
When her fit of temper had passed, she knew it would be better to settle things privately. Except now the entire country believed she intended to prosecute him. If she went back on her word, she would look fickle to her subjects.
No, Father would not be happy.
Father had been bedridden for the last several months, but seeing his body swallowed by the hospital bed in his room was still a shock. His blue eyes were cold, and he barely acknowledged her as she entered and nodded to his nurse, who stood in the corner, and his assistant, who was always available with a tablet and paper planner in hand. His breakfast remained uneaten on a side table.
A local news channel blared from a wall-mounted flat screen TV in line with the foot of Father's bed.
"...interrupted a theft of the palace's famed jeweled rose..."
The tinny words, even with the volume turned low, reverberated through Eloise's ears and echoed through her skull.
"Good morning, Father," she said a bit stiffly. "Alessandra is off to her honeymoon, as expected. There's been no sign of Aunty Willow." Outdoor security for the wedding had been incredibly tight, and there'd been a small contingent of men assigned to follow her cousin Pieter around all night.
Father waved at her to be quiet even as he stared at what was unfolding on the television.
"Crown princess Eloise showed her beastly side as she threatened an elderly wedding guest."
Heat flared in her face. She loathed it, because when her cheeks pinked, the scars etched into her skin stood out in stark relief. Oh, how she hated them.
"Please tell me you didn't actually threaten one of our guests?" Her father's voice was raspy from the pneumonia he'd been fighting off for the better part of a week.
"It was a mistake." The whole thing had been one big, herculean mistake. She'd seen the cowboy darting through the hall where he most certainly hadn't been invited. She'd meant to go in and ask him to leave, but her emotions had gotten the better of her.
It was him. She hated how he affected her.
He'd stared at her throughout the wedding, making her uncomfortably aware of her ugliness. There had been no escape from his constant focus, and it had driven her crazy. She’d had to fight the impulse to stand up and scream in the middle of it all.
She'd shown an amazing amount of willpower in keeping her seat.
When she'd run across him again, that hot knife of the bottled-up scream had sliced open her insides and made her crueler than normal.
Or perhaps she'd forgotten what it felt like to be normal.
"Mr. Cody Austin, a professional bull rider, has been detained," her father's aide said oh-so-helpfully. "He's currently residing in the castle with strict instructions not to leave. I believe a hearing with the royal council has been set for two weeks from today."
Already? She hadn't meant the threat. Or if she had, she’d known as soon as her anger had burned away that it was foolish, but now that the attempted theft and her threat were public knowledge, the ruling body would have no choice but to respond.
She sighed softly. "It was a mistake," she repeated. "I'm certain we can take care of it. Smooth things over with the council."
"They're saying you're unfit to be queen," he rasped.
/>
It wasn't the first time it had been said, but it stung just as much.
She schooled her features not to show her pain. A crown princess did not show emotion.
"You must learn to control your temper," Father said.
She resisted the urge to curl her lip. She'd inherited her temper from him.
She only nodded tightly.
"Maybe we can turn this around,” Jill suggested brightly. “He has a measure of fame in the United States. If we spin it as a simple misunderstanding with one Gideon’s American friends, publicly show that there’s no animosity on either part… The general public will forget all about it.”
Eloise resisted the urge to growl. Her media specialist seemed to look at life through rose-colored glasses. Next to someone like the cowboy, all of Eloise's faults would be glaring.
"And what about the council?" Eloise asked through stiff lips. “Will they forget about it? The rose is a priceless heirloom that has been in the royal family for generations. They could consider his actions a crime against the royal family.”
Jill shrugged. "It wasn’t as if he made off with the flower, was it? I'll reach out to the council. See if we can't get him off the hook."
Eloise looked over her shoulder, wanting only to escape. She didn't want to do any media events. Ever. But she could not shirk her duty, not when she’d been preparing for years to take over the crown’s duties.
"You'll be fine," Jill said with a friendly pat on her shoulder.
Eloise glared at her. How dare a commoner touch her? She hated being touched as much as she hated being patronized.
"You must do better than fine." Father coughed, which started a fit that lasted long enough that Eloise clenched her fists to keep from reaching for him, asking whether she could help.
She'd tried it once before, and he'd lost his temper with her, shouting her out of the room.
When his nurse had helped him adjust the bed to a more upright position and his coughing fit had calmed, he aimed his intense gaze at Eloise. "You must convince our people that you're capable. That you'll be a queen they can trust."
"Father, there's still time—"
He waved his hand violently and cut her off. "You must do so now. Do not let any question of your suitability grow in their minds. You mustn't."
He was working himself up and began coughing again.
"Yes, Father," she said quickly, hoping to stave off another lengthy episode. He needed to conserve his strength to fight the pneumonia.
He nodded and waved at the door to indicate the meeting was over.
She left the room, Jill trailing, as the nurse moved in to help him again.
In the hallway, Jill flipped open her leather-covered planner, no doubt ready to take on the day. "We have the children's home visit—"
"I'm sorry." Eloise couldn't get the vision of her father, bent and unable to catch his breath, out of her mind. "I need a moment." No, that wasn't enough. "A half hour."
"If we don't leave now, you'll be late for the mayor's breakfast."
Eloise opened her mouth to argue, but then snapped it closed again. Father's words rang in her head. You've got to prove yourself to the people.
She had to find a way.
It was much later, nearly nightfall, by the time Eloise found an escape from her duties. Shaking and near tears, she practically ran down the hall and descended a set of stairs usually reserved for the staff. She ducked through the expansive kitchen, receiving a glare from the on-staff chef and curious but quickly averted looks from two white-aproned helpers.
Don't stare at the crown princess!
And then she was outdoors, slipping down the stone stairs that curled around the base of the castle against the beach. She kicked off her shoes, but paused on the last step.
She couldn't breathe through her rioting emotions. The sea air did nothing to clear her thoughts.
She usually loved this beach. It was restricted to those inside the castle by the towering cliffs that curved behind the castle and out onto a small spit of land that disappeared at high tide. The other side of the beach disappeared past the castle itself and was patrolled by guards around the clock. The castle staff was kept too busy to loiter on the beach, and Eloise often had the outdoor space to herself. Usually, it was peaceful and serene unless winds whipped the waves into a frenzy. Like today.
A match for her roiling emotions.
She'd lost her temper again, this time when an impertinent journalist who’d been seated at her table at the mayor's breakfast had slung question after question at her. He’d been trying to upset. Is the King really dying? Why have you cancelled so many public appearances this year? How many staffers have you fired this year?
It hadn’t mattered that she’d known the man was only trying to get her to lose her temper. Eloise had become so angry that she'd left in the middle of the mayor's speech. A photographer had been stationed outside the building and followed her to the car.
As far as Eloise was concerned, the entire event was another huge failure on her part. Jill had spent the ride home lecturing her and pushing for her to invite the cowboy to one of the upcoming events.
She'd returned to her office to find to a mountain of work: a new bill from the royal council to review and consider, petitions from several small businesses, a meeting with their trade partner to schedule.
In the midst of all that, Father's nurse had interrupted to tell her that Father's fever had spiked.
It was too much. She'd escaped here.
The doctors had been unable to slow the progression of the disease. Watching Father, the man she’d idolized all her life, a man stronger, more powerful, than any other man in the world, succumb to multiple sclerosis, was breaking her heart. And now, something as simple, as common, as pneumonia had him confined to bed, trapped but alert enough to watch his eldest daughter destroy all the public goodwill he’d built.
Their relationship had been more political than personal since she was a teenager. He’d seemed to want it that way, and even still, though she longed to reach out to him, longed for the daddy she’d known as a child, she didn't know how to change it.
Since Alessandra had come home from the States after nearly being assassinated, she'd been intentional about setting aside what little time Father could carve out for her to spend together.
Eloise didn't have that luxury. Father had given her more and more of the tasks relating to governing their people.
And it seemed as if every time she tried to make some overture to reach out to Father, to get more personal with him, he rebuffed her attempts.
And now... He was fading away. There was no other way to describe it.
She stepped off the last stone stair, sinking her bare feet into the cool, dry sand. The wind was high today and blew strands of her hair into her face.
She breathed in deeply of the briny sea air, trying to calm her rioting emotions. Father. The event today. The cowboy. Since she’d felt his stare during the wedding, his very presence had disconcerted her.
Where was peace, when she so desperately needed it?
And then she realized she wasn't alone.
3
Cody couldn't say what he'd been expecting, being detained by the palace guard, but it certainly wasn't this.
He'd been assigned a suite of rooms, not a dungeon cell.
He hadn't been locked in his rooms either, but had been allowed to roam the castle with one guard who dogged his every move. Right now the man was tucked up against the stone castle wall right now, watching him with arms crossed.
He wasn't used to inactivity, and when he'd seen no one by ten a.m., he had to get out of the rooms, as nice as they were. He’d spent over an hour on the phone with his lawyer, who’d promised to do what he could to get Cody home as quickly as possible. There were international laws in place, and though Cody argued that he and his uncle had only been looking at the jeweled rose, there was the digital picture that the crown princess had threatened EJ with. It
was a mess. There were careful rules to follow, even about setting up a trial and getting charges dismissed and Cody’s lawyer would have to do some studying on the Glorvaird laws to ensure they did things right. He’d advised Cody sit tight and try not to worry.
Ha.
He still couldn’t figure why EJ had done it. For the thrill? Cody paid for most of the man’s medical bills, what insurance didn’t cover anyway. His winnings were plenty to support the both of them. He couldn’t figure it.
In his restless state, he’d wandered through the second floor. Most of the rooms were private suites, but he found a small library and a two different sitting rooms.
By the afternoon, he'd found the kitchen and made friends with some of the staff.
He’d called to check in on Uncle EJ, who’d made it back to the States. His uncle had only changed the subject when Cody had tried to ask about what had happened.
Cody hadn’t had contact with Gideon’s other friends, the guys staying at the villa outside of the castle. Hadn’t tried—he didn’t know any of them well. With his attorney’s advice in mind, he couldn’t go out and see the city like he’d wanted to upon his arrival.
After supper, he found himself restless again.
So he wandered down through a narrow, twisty hallway that landed him on a thin slice of beach.
It was private, backed by the massive castle and lined by cliffs.
An afternoon storm was rolling in. The wind was high and clouds boiled off the horizon.
But the fresh air was a relief after being cooped up all day, and he stood on the sand breathing it in.
He took off his boots and socks, left them on the bottom stair, and walked toward the water.
He was still taking in the beauty of the sunset when movement from behind turned his head.
It was the crown princess.
He was sketching a bow when she reached him. "What are you doing out here?"
He straightened, shoulders tightening at the rude tone of her words. She didn’t have to be polite. She thought he and EJ had tried to steal from her family.
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