Kathleen Creighton - The Rebel King

Rhia coughed. "Uh…it's…beautiful."

King Weston laughed. "You lie rather badly, my dear. It's a neglected mess." His eyes creased in a squint of sadness as he gazed around him. "This was the queen's favorite spot, you see. After she died, I'm afraid I let it go to ruin. Lately, I've begun to think about putting it right again. This one here-" he held up a blossom of rich rose-pink, sniffed it, then pointed it at the tangle of canes overhead "-was her favorite. Zepherine Drouhin, it's called. It has no thorns, you see. That's why she liked it-she loved roses, but was always pricking herself on the thorns." He touched the blossom to his lips, and to Rhia's complete bemusement. presented the rest of the bouquet to her. "These are for you, my dear. Welcome to the palace.

"And now," he said, taking Rhia's arm and turning to walk a few slow steps back toward the vestibule. "I expect you'd like to see the rest of the place."

"Uh, yes," she said, clearing her throat in a valiant effort to pull herself out of the Disney movie she seemed to have wandered into. "As a matter of fact, I'd like to go over security arrangements-"

The king waggled his cane. "No need for that. Between my own palace guard and the extra security forces Corbett Lazlo has provided, everything has been well taken care of. I assure you. We are all safe here."

Safe as a babe in his mother's arms? Rhia glanced at Nikolas and suppressed a shiver. His gray eyes were glittering as he looked back at her, and she wondered if he'd had the same thought.

"Forgive me," he said, in a tone that was probably a bit more abrupt than should have been used to address a king, "but Vladimir-Lord…Vladimir-has gotten into the palace before."

King Weston nodded. "Through the old tunnels, yes. But that's all been taken care of now. The tunnels have been closed off or filled in. At any rate." he said firmly, drawing himself up and gesturing again with his cane, as if it were an eraser, "you, my dear girl, are here as my guest, not my bodyguard. Nikolas-have Max get someone to give her the grand tour, won't you? And show you to your rooms. Then later on I should like it very much if you would both join me for dinner in my chambers."

Rhia could actually feel herself blushing. "Oh-but… Your Majesty…I'm not-I'm honored, but…I didn't exactly…" Oh God, and stammering, again, too. She didn't dare look at Nikolas; if he was grinning, she'd have no choice but to kill him. I can't believe this, she thought. I can't believe I'm going to say it… "Your Majesty, I'm sorry, but I don't have anything to wear!"

King Weston halted and turned to her with smiling eyes. "Quite frankly, I think you look smashing just as you are." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "However, I do know all women like to dress up, put on fancy things now and then. Don't worry, Miss de Hayes. I shall see to it that you have something to wear."

He turned to Nikolas and clasped his hand. His voice seemed to deepen and grow husky. "My boy. I'm glad you're here at last I shall look forward to our visit this evening-perhaps we can begin to get to know one another. I'll send someone to escort you to my chambers-shall we say…five o'clock?"

Nikolas murmured. "Yes, of course. That will be fine."

The king waved them on, then pivoted and returned to his roses.

"Will someone please just kill me now?" Rhia ground out between clenched teeth, as she and Nikolas made their way back across the courtyard. "Could I possibly be more embarrassed? And don't you dare laugh, or I swear I will kill you."

"I'm not laughing." Nikolas insisted, while doing exactly that. Then he shrugged, and the grin faded. "I'm not even going to claim credit for 'I told you so.' because I didn't."

"No, but you thought it. God, I hate it when you're right…" They were almost to the vestibule. She caught his arm to stop him and whispered. "Nik-am I insane, or did the king-your father-just flirt with me?"

"Oh, you're not insane," he said drily. "Although I may be-with jealousy."

She shot him a sideways look, pretending disgust. "Now I know where you get it from. You can't help it-it's in your genes."

My God," Rhia whispered, "I can't believe I'm actually wearing a Givenchy. Me-the former Miss Trailer Park of New Orleans."

Nikolas didn't comment; he knew how sappy he'd sound if he told her the truth, which was that in his opinion no queen or empress had ever looked more regal. Besides which, if he told her that, he was fairly certain it would only make her mad.

Although, to be truthful, lately he couldn't be certain of anything where Rhia was concerned. Since they'd arrived at the palace, she'd seemed…different. Edgy, nervous…lacking her usual poise and self-confidence.

"Are you sure I look okay in this thing? It's not too…you know…"

He didn't know what to make of her. It was the first time he'd ever known her to be insecure about her appearance. It was also the first time he'd seen her wearing a dress and high heels, and he did know what he'd like to make of that. Take them right off her again, as soon as he could possibly manage it.

He let his gaze slide over her-quickly, which was as much as his libido could stand. "No, love," he said gently, "it's not too…any thing. It's just exactly right."

"I don't know…it is from the nineteen sixties, after all." She heaved in a breath, twisting and turning in front of the window in a way that made his mouth go dry as she tried to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the dark glass. She paused to throw him a look of bemusement. "I still can't believe he let me wear his wife's-Queen Alexis's-your mother's clothes. I'm amazed he'd even still have them."

"Yes, well I suppose it would be rather difficult to dispose of something like a queen's wardrobe." Nikolas said drily, and to remove himself as far as possible from temptation, paced to the opposite end of the informal reception room in the king's private chambers, where they'd been left to await his majesty's pleasure. "It's not as though one can simply drop everything off at the Oxfam shop. I should imagine some will eventually go to a museum."

She gave a breathy little laugh. "In the meantime, I'm wearing Givenchy. I feel like…who is it?" She snapped her fingers. "Audrey Hepburn- Breakfast at Tiffany's. You know-the little black dress?"

He folded his arms on his chest and pretended to give her a critical once-over. Truth was, she did look a little like Audrey Hepburn-from the neck up: Dark hair piled high on her head, exotic eyes and luscious mouth…long, elegant neck. But from there down…from what he could recall, for all her grace and beauty. Audrey on her best day had never had curves like that.

Avoiding the issue, he frowned at his watch, then glanced at the doors that led to the king's inner sanctum. "Wonder what's keeping our royal host?"

Her eyes jerked to his and her lips parted. The look that came over her face was one he'd never seen before-frightened, even confused. His heart began to pound as he asked hoarsely, "What? Rhia, what's wrong?"

She shook her head-a quick, erasing motion-and pivoted away from him. "Nik-it's nothing. I…"

He was at her side in an instant, gripping her arms and turning her to face him. "It's obviously not nothing. Tell me."

She gazed at him…opened her mouth. But the words wouldn't come. It's hard…I don't think I can…I'm sorry. She'd never tried to put it into words before- the feeling. The sizzling under her skin, like static electricity…the flashes of something just on the edges of her consciousness that never came into focus…the hum in her head that wasn't quite sound.

She swallowed…took a breath. "I know this is going to sound…weird. I thought it was just nerves-you know. I'm wearing this dress, having dinner with the king, for God's sake. Anyway, I've been feeling it ever since we came in here. And then, when you mentioned him. I knew what it was. It's…"