Nina Bruhns - Capturing the Crown Bundle

The thought that she might have had a hand in Reginald’s demise had been a fleeting one at best. Though she didn’t strike him as being a pushover, he knew she wasn’t capable of coldly ordering someone’s death.

He might as well get through all of it, he thought. “Our union only took place because your father believed I was the man Weston was selecting for the crown. If that crown goes to someone else, what then?”

She didn’t see what the problem was, at least, not for them. Her father wouldn’t be happy that the marriage did not back up their countries’ alliance, but things did not always work themselves out perfectly no matter how much effort went into arrangements.

“Then you pledge your allegiance to the baby or whoever King Weston chooses and we return home to Gastonia to live happily ever after.”

That didn’t satisfy him. Hers was not the last word on the matter. “Won’t your father want you to marry whoever is king here?”

Her laugh was soft, indulgent. She touched his face affectionately. “Not even my father would marry me to someone after I’d just been married before God and the good citizens of Silvershire, not to mention Madeline,” she added with a broad smile. “That would be ludicrous.”

“But the marriage was to reinforce the treaty,” he insisted.

He was worried about that, she suddenly realized. Her heart grew warm. He was afraid she would have to walk out on him. As if that could ever be possible.

“My father’s not that small a man,” she assured him softly. “Having his daughter married to the Duke of Carrington, the king’s right-hand political adviser, carries weight to it,” she assured him, then added, “Especially when he sees how happy his daughter is—in direct contrast to how very unhappy he knew she would have been if Reginald had lived and he had become her husband.”

A small wave of relief finally came. Russell allowed himself a small, affectionate smile. “You’re referring to yourself in the third person.”

Amelia pretended to toss her head. “All us royal types do that.” And then she laughed and winked.

He put his hands on her waist, holding her for a moment, thinking how quickly he had gotten used to having her in his arms.

Again, his expression became somber as concern nibbled away at him. “But if it came to that, if your father decided that Gastonia’s needs were immediate and urgent and since the heir to Silvershire’s throne was an infant, perhaps a more suitable match for the matter of security could be made with the prince of another kingdom—” There were still a few kingdoms that could come into play when it came to making treaties, kingdoms that knew safety lay in alliances.

She didn’t want to play this game. It was tiring and pointless. What he was suggesting wasn’t going to happen. Amelia placed her finger to his lips, stilling them. “Don’t borrow trouble, Your Highness. I’m your wife and I’m going to remain that way.”

She’d called him “Your Highness,” as if he were a prince. It was in jest, but he couldn’t divorce himself from the thought that that was what she wanted from the man she was wed to. The promise of a crown.

His eyes searched her face as he asked, “Would it bother you if I wasn’t king?”

“It wasn’t your crown that drew me to you in the first place,” she reminded him, lacing her arms around his neck. She sighed as her body came in contact with his. “It won’t be your crown that will make me want to remain.”

“Oh?” The weightier matters of Reginald’s death and the state of the country took a back seat to what was happening here, in this section of the palace. He felt his mouth curving into a smile, felt his body following suit. “And what will?”

Her arms still around his neck, Amelia pressed her body tightly up against his. Her eyes were dancing as she said, “Guess.”

She could make him forget everything else in a heartbeat. He’d never met another woman like her and was grateful that somehow, fate had arranged for her to be his. “I had no idea that you were this lusty, Princess.”

“Neither did I, Carrington,” she teased, amusement highlighting her features. “See what you’ve done?”

“I?” he asked innocently.

“Yes, you.” She raised herself up on her toes, bringing her mouth up close to his. “You’ve made a wanton woman out of me.” She could feel love exuding from every pore of her body. It was incredible what a difference a few weeks made. Just a month ago, she’d seen her life—certainly her happiness—ending. And now, she could honestly say she had never been happier. All because she was married to Russell. “And then an honest one.”

“I had nothing to do with that,” he reminded her. “That was the king’s choice. And, as for the first matter, as I remember the series of events, you were the one who chose me, not the other way around.”

With a laugh filled with pleasure, she kissed him. She did it quickly, then did it again before drawing away, savoring the masculine taste of his lips. She could feel her blood singing.

“If they don’t make you king, you could always become the royal lawyer,” Amelia quipped. He reached for her, but she playfully took a step back, lacing her fingers through his hand. “Now, tell me everything. Just who is this woman who says she’s having Reginald’s baby? Do you know her? Do I?”

He drew her over to the sofa and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. She settled in, lacing her arms around his neck as she listened.

“No to both,” he told her. “Unless it’s an alias of some kind. According to what Lucia found out, the woman’s name is Sydney Connor. The e-mail was tracked back to Naessa.”

“Naessa,” Amelia echoed incredulously. She banked down a shiver. There had been threats made against her father from several terrorist factions whose roots, it was discovered, ran deep in Naessa. “Nothing good ever comes from Naessa.”

“Not so,” he contradicted. When she looked at him quizzically, he said, “If this woman is on the level, then the future king of Silvershire might well be coming from there. If Sydney Connor is a native of Naessa, then Silvershire’s new king would be half Naessian.”

Amelia frowned as she turned the idea over in her head. There had been too much bad blood in the past between their two countries and Naessa.

“I don’t think that’s going to go over very well with the people of Silvershire. Or with the people of Gastonia, for that matter,” she added.

Russell nodded. She had a point, he supposed. For the sake of peace in the kingdom, Weston might not want to recognize a bastard’s claim to the throne. It might set off too many diverse factions.

For the moment, his ascent to the throne seemed inevitable again.

“And it might just set off Nikolas Donovan and his little band of merrymakers,” he commented dryly.

He could almost hear what the Union for Democracy would have to say about placing Reginald’s illegitimate son on the throne. They could use the country’s unrest to demand that the entire sum of governing power be turned over to the people.

Amelia put into words what he hadn’t said. “And unless Reginald secretly married this woman, which I sincerely doubt, the fact that the baby is a bastard might make a great many people unwilling to accept that child as their king. For that matter, the king might chose not to recognize the baby, either,” she added. “In any event, Weston still has the right to choose whomever he wants to be king since he no longer has a living son to take the crown.”

Amelia smiled at him, her eyes encouraging. “I’m afraid that you are going to be king of Silvershire whether you like the idea or not, my sweet.” She curled up in his lap. “Just think of me as your consolation prize.”