The King Takes A Bride (Royals Book 4)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  “Here, Miss Sinclair. Where are you injured?” Bashir asked. His dark eyes glittered as he swept his long overcoat off and swung it around her shoulders.

  “I'm fine, really, thank you,” Chey said. Her fingers, red and tingly, grasped three times at the material of his coat before finding purchase. “Where's Sander? Where are the men?”

  “I'm sure they are right behind you.” Bashir tried to nudge her toward the open doors of the limousine where warmth waited.

  Chey glanced back down the slope, unable to stop herself from looking. “Sander!”

  Out in the night, the chop of helicopter blades and the hum of racing engines assured Chey more help was on the way. The aircraft would have to land closer to the docks, but at least it could transport anyone with serious injury straight to the hospital.

  A burst of shouts hit the air, nearly drowned out by the vehicles that swarmed up the road from the base of the mountain. Three SUVs outfitted for snow stopped in front of the lead car, headlights clashing like warring swords.

  Below, the tilting limousine groaned and slipped over the edge. The sound of sliding turned into the sound of flipping, metal cracking and crashing.

  “Did they get out?” Krislin shouted.

  “Mattias!” Paavo clasped his head with both hands as if he'd just witnessed something horrific.

  Chey experienced dizzying fear at Paavo's reaction and the fact that she only saw a few dark figures on the slope where the car had gone over.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With Krislin shouting for Gunnar, Chey stared down the slope, shoulder pressed against Bashir's side. He held tight, speaking quickly in his own tongue to his companions. They sounded concerned and anxious.

  Chey didn't know whether to close her eyes, whether to give in to the nausea rolling through her stomach, or to go right back down the hill to see for herself if any of the remaining men were Sander. Of course the latter was out of the question, but the wild thought persisted as panic set in.

  Men from the SUVs scrambled down the slope, conversing in short, sharp sentences that Chey couldn't understand. Long minutes later—what felt like an eternity—a blonde head came into view surrounded by three security members.

  Before Chey could say Sander's name, Gunnar glanced up, exposing his face to those at the side of the road. Relief and fear hit Chey at the same time.

  “Gunnar!” Krislin hugged Gunnar with both arms after he safely made it up to the roadside. He scooped her up, holding her snug against his body.

  To Chey's surprise, the driver and the guard from the front of the limousine emerged next, followed by a second blonde head.

  “Oh thank God.” Chey squeezed Bashir's hand and closed in on Sander once he crested the edge to the asphalt. She knew by his face when she was right in front of him that something terrible was wrong.

  Sander grabbed her up and crushed her to him.

  “Where's Mattias?” Paavo shouted after making rounds between his brothers.

  Chaos reigned as other guards bellowed Mattias's name.

  “Oh no. No,” Chey whispered against Sander's throat. She couldn't allow herself to believe Mattias went down with the limousine. Not Mattias of the kind heart and constant support.

  “Your Majesty, we need to get you to the hospital,” one man said. Dressed in a dark, sharp suit, he closed in on Sander.

  Leaning away from Chey, meeting her eyes with pain in his own, Sander glanced at the guard. “Take her. Take her and get her to the doctor as soon as possible.”

  “What? Sander, I'm not leaving--”

  Sander looked at her in a way that begged her not to fight him right now. “We need to make sure you're all right.”

  She knew he wasn't just referring to her, but the baby. Chey glanced at the slope, the darkness where the limousine had once been. A crushing sorrow made it hard to breathe.

  “Miss Sinclair,” the guard said, holding out a hand.

  She glanced at Sander again and couldn't find it in her to demand he come with her. The bond between brothers was stronger than any Chey had ever seen.

  “I'll be there soon,” Sander said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

  Paavo, mad with grief, crouched at the edge of the asphalt staring down the slope. Elbows on his thighs, he had both hands clasped together with his fingers against his mouth.

  “You people have no faith,” Mattias said as he climbed onto the road thirty feet down from where the rest of them stood. “I had to go this way thanks to the heaving backsides blocking the path up in front of me.”

  As one, every head turned Mattias's direction. Two seconds of perfect silence followed.

  Mattias brushed at the muck covering the front of his clothes, glanced up, and smiled. “What? I'm not a ghost.”

  A rush of relieved laughter, cajoling and cat calls split the air. Sander squeezed Chey's shoulder, parted the crowd with his shoulders and snatched Mattias up into a brotherly hug. She followed right behind him, weak with relief of her own.

  “I saw you in the car--” Sander said, fading when Mattias cut in.

  “It was a little tricky to get out the other side. But I made it.” He clapped Sander on the back, embraced Gunnar, then wrapped Chey in a gentle hug.

  “You owe me for that,” Paavo said, nudging past everyone else to grab Mattias over Chey's head.

  Backing out after a quick kiss to Mattias's cheek, Chey let Sander herd her and Krislin toward one of the SUVs. He put her inside and gestured to the driver as well as the guards.

  “I'll meet you at the hospital when we make sure everyone else is all right. There are a few guards who suffered minor injuries,” Sander said.

  “All right. Hurry up, though,” Chey said.

  He kissed her on the mouth, closed the door and stood there as the SUV turned around to head away from the scene.

  “That was close,” Chey said to Krislin.

  “Too close,” Krislin agreed. “Are you okay?”

  “I'm fine, just cold.” Chey realized then that she still had Bashir's coat hanging from her shoulders. Later, when they returned to the castle, she would have it cleaned and delivered to his suite.

  What mattered in that moment was that everyone survived the harrowing ordeal. In the back of her mind, snippets of the scene replayed over and over, the first and foremost being Paavo's shouting for his brothers.

  For Mattias and Gunnar.

  Sander, it seemed, had been nowhere on his radar.

  . . .

  The transfer to the hospital in Kalev happened with swift efficiency. From the heavy utility SUV to the helicopter to the helipad on the rooftop of the medical building, everything went smooth and without trouble.

  Chey insisted she could walk on her own into the elevator atop the building; the doctors over rode her and Krislin both, laying them out on gurneys instead. Flashes of strange faces, lights, steel walls and long corridors came and went until the whirlwind halted in a private suite that could have come straight out of the castle itself. A decadent suite, at that. Renaissance dressers with brogue detail sat against a wall and a large bed took up space to the right. Adjacent, in a more sterile part of the room, a smaller hospital bed waited. Every medical amenity could be accounted for as well as creature comforts like a flat screen television and a wardrobe kept on standby. Clearly, this was a suite meant for the royal family. Chey wondered if the entire floor was geared toward emergencies like this.

  Switched to the smaller, sterile bed from the gurney, Chey allowed nurses to peel away the outer coat, her own jacket and her boots. Needles gleamed under cones of light directed down from above while a nurse inserted an IV.

  Chey wanted to say that she was fine. She didn't need blood drawn or hydration via artificial means. What she wanted was information. On Sander, Mattias, Gunnar. Was Krislin all right? She couldn't get a word in edgewise thanks to answering a slew of questions a female doctor directed her way.

  No, she wasn't in any pain. No, there were no cramps, she hadn't hit
her head or suffered lacerations from the slide down the hill. After gentle coercion, she changed into a hospital gown so the nurses had easier access to her.

  All the while, Chey kept an eye on the doorway for Sander.

  She needed to make sure he, along with his brothers and the guards, were all right. Her body had other ideas.

  Fifteen minutes later, she lost the fight and drifted off to sleep.

  . . .

  “That was an awfully close call, your Majesty,” Bashir said. Sitting next to Sander in an SUV instead of a limousine, the Crown Prince glanced sidelong.

  Sander sat with his back slouched against the seat, only looking over when Bashir spoke. Deemed safer to descend the rest of the mountain in the heavy duty vehicles rather than the sleek limousines, the remaining men had been split up and were being driven down to the docks to meet up with the helicopter.

  “Yes. All it takes is one patch of ice. Thank you for your help.” He looked ahead once more. Mattias sat in the front next to the driver while Gunnar and one of Bashir's guards sat in the seat behind Sander and Bashir.

  “Certainly. I would expect no less from you should the circumstances have happened in my country instead of yours.”

  “Indeed.”

  “You didn't mention the contract details in front of my acquaintances. I wonder why,” Bashir said after a few minutes of silence.

  Sander brought his thoughts back from where they'd strayed to Chey and her condition. “I'll play along for now, Bashir. Stay until the wedding if you're determined to, but my mind, nor my sister's, has changed.”

  Reaching into the inner pocket of his blazer, Sander withdrew the ring Bashir had presented to Natalia. He held it up between his fingers.

  Bashir stared. For a moment, he didn't move to take it. Finally, he plucked it from Sander's fingers. He slid it into the front pocket of his shirt. “You do realize mine has not changed either, yes?”

  “You mean your pursuit of the contract in its original form?”

  “Yes. I am not through with this yet.”

  “Our lawyers can battle it out. I won't entertain any more conversation about it nor will I tolerate coercion of Natalia. It's my belief that you're pressing so hard because you feel this will cement your rise to King. Maybe it would have, maybe it wouldn't. But there are other ways.” Sander propped his elbow on the window sill as the helipad came into view.

  “As you say. Our lawyers will battle it out.” Bashir turned his face toward his own window, effectively ending the discussion.

  Sander gave the Prince a quick glance. The events of the evening had no bearing on his decision to stick to the original plan. He wouldn't out the Prince in front of his friends unless Bashir cornered him and gave him no other choice. The man was an opportunist, but so was much of the elite of the world. A person didn't rise to the top without making deals and sacrifices along the way. Sometimes it required finesse, others a cutthroat approach.

  “Take the guests across to the mainland first,” Sander ordered when the SUV came to a stop. He wouldn't depart Pallan until his visitors were safely back at the family seat.

  Only then would he descend on the hospital to check on his bride to be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chey opened her eyes to the diffused glare of sunlight filtering through sheer curtains. Confused about why the room looked different, she blocked the glow with a hand until her vision adjusted. Blurry shapes sharpened into recognizable objects. It wasn't until she saw Sander's silhouette in the chair near the window that memory of the accident surfaced.

  “Sander?” Chey pushed the sheets and covers off her hips and legs. Swinging her feet to the ground, she groaned at the protest of sore muscles.

  Yes. Now she remembered why she was here.

  “Hey. You shouldn't be up yet.” Sander set aside his coffee and rose from his seat. He wore a new set of clothes: blue jeans, buckskin boots, a long sleeved shirt of pale blue with the cuffs flipped back to his elbows. “How do you feel?”

  “I'm fine. Just sore. How is everyone else? Krislin? Did Mattias get hurt?” Chey, glad to feel that the IV was gone from her arm, crossed over to wrap Sander in a hug. The scent of a fresh shower made breathing the skin of his throat pleasant. Enfolded in the band of his arms, Chey molded herself to his front. She stared up at his eyes after pressing a kiss over the hot blip of his pulse.

  “Everyone's all right. Just minor scrapes, scratches and a few bruises. The guard and driver, who waited until the very last second to keep the limo from sliding further, got out in time.” Sander bent his head to press a kiss on her mouth.

  Chey threaded her fingers through the loose length of his hair and licked the taste of him off her lip. “I'm so glad to hear it. I can't believe I slept the whole night through.”

  “You needed the rest. Things have been stressful and hectic lately. You sure you're feeling okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. Really. I'm fine. And I'm sure the baby's fine, too, or I'd be hooked up to a hundred different machines.”

  He smiled. “The doctor confirmed everything looks good. But you need to take it easy the next day or two, just in case.”

  “I'll be careful but I hope I don't have to stay here. It's nice enough and everything, there's just a lot left to do before the wedding,” she said. Speaking of the wedding and all the details brought the interview to mind. Chey wondered if this was a good time to tell him. While they were alone, while things were calm.

  “Hanna's got you covered. Last I knew, there were just small details left,” he said. Taking a step back, he drew her toward the plush chair near the window and pulled her into his lap when he sat down.

  Chey got comfortable—or as comfortable as she could in the hospital gown. It wasn't her best look. “Well, we have to figure out the bridesmaids. I have no idea what's going on with that. I told Hanna it would just be three, instead of six.”

  Sander reached for his coffee and took a sip. He arched his brows.

  “I didn't think Natalia really wanted to do it and Katrin hasn't said a word to me. Aurora is...I don't know. She's keeping a distance. I figure three is better than one.” Chey accepted the styrofoam cup when he offered it and had a cautious sip of the hot brew. The pleasant burn made her take another sip before offering it back.

  “We'll work with three. If the council protests, I'll over ride them. This way, there's no more delay. All right?” He lifted the cup for a longer drink.

  “Perfect. Thanks. I don't want to have to worry about it anymore.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and studied his eyes. He looked tired, as if he'd stayed up all night. “Where is everyone else? Bashir and the guests?”

  “Krislin went home sometime in the middle of the night with Gunnar. The guests are back at the family seat and Mattias is lurking around here somewhere.”

  “Oh. So do I get to leave, then? I'd really like to get back. Hospitals aren't my favorite place and I really am okay.” As much as Chey disliked being at the family seat, she preferred it to the hospital any day.

  “Yeah, I'll check with the doctor one last time. There are some clean clothes that should fit you in the closet.” Sander squeezed her thigh, then eased his arms from around her.

  Chey stole one more kiss from his lips before sliding off his lap. If they had been anywhere else, she would have spent the entire morning pinning him to the seat. “Perfect. I'll be ready in five minutes.”

  “Take your time, Slinky. There's no rush.” He laughed, a quiet sound, and pushed to a stand. Setting the coffee down, he hitched the waist of his pants up with a pinch of his fingers. “I'll come get you when they're done.”

  At the closet, Chey sorted through shirts and jeans, impressed that someone thought to keep a stash here for emergencies.

  “Okay. Hurry up though!” It was becoming habit to tack that on when she was impatient.

  “You keep sassing me and I'll send in the nurses to do an enema,” he said, grinning before he exited into the hall.


  “You better not!” Too late. He was already gone.

  . . .

  What luck. She found jeans one size larger than she needed so she didn't have to go around with the button and zipper undone. Pairing a simple tee shirt of white and navy cardigan with it, Chey donned a pair of tennis shoes that fit a little tight and caught her hair back into a ponytail for the ride home. There would be time for a shower later.

  “Excuse me, Miss Sinclair? Here are your discharge papers,” a nasally voice said from the direction of the doorway.

  Chey turned around, wondering what was wrong with the woman's voice, and came face to face with a smiling Wynn. She was so shocked to see her best friend that Wynn got the proverbial jump on her.

  After a quick Look, it's me! pose, Wynn attacked Chey with an exuberant hug. The girls spun a happy circle.

  “Wynn! How are you here right now? When did you--”

  “Sander sent for me! As a surprise. Surprise!” Wynn leaned back and held Chey at arms length. “I was supposed to arrive at the castle last night. He brought me here instead so we could chatter all the way home.”

  Laughing, Chey hugged Wynn once more, so very pleased to see her. In the doorway, Sander leaned against the frame, arms folded causally across his chest. A ghost of a smile touched his mouth and his eyes.

  Chey mouthed, thank you.

  You're welcome, he mouthed back.

  Putting Wynn at arm's length, returning the favor of a study, she got a better look at her friend. The bob of Wynn's dark hair still brushed the top of her shoulders and framed a face more narrow than round. In typical Wynn style, she wore a tartan style skirt of green and blue plaid, mary-janes adding a school girl touch over white stockings.