Cara Colter - Expecting Royal Twins! / To Dance with a Prince

“You are safe,” he said. “As long as you are with me, you will always be safe.”

The confidence and strength he exuded made her almost believe his words. But she knew safe didn’t really exist. If it did her parents would be alive. Uncle Frank, too.

The vibrations increased until she thought the plane might break apart. The forward momentum pushed her back against her seat. Niko laced his fingers with hers.

The plane lifted off the ground.

The lights below grew smaller and smaller until they disappeared altogether. The plane climbed at a steep angle, as if it were a fighter jet not a passenger plane.

The aircraft jolted. She sucked in another breath.

“A patch of turbulence,” Niko said. “Normal.”

None of this was normal. Not the takeoff, not the prince sitting next to her. And certainly not this life-altering adventure she was embarking on.

After what seemed like forever, the plane leveled.

“We’ve reached cruising altitude.” Niko kept his hand on hers. “Not too bad.”

It wasn’t a question.

“No,” she admitted. “But we still have to land.”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “Landing will be easier.”

“Really?” she asked.

He nodded. “You’ll be tired due to the time change. You may even be asleep when the wheels touch ground.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be sleeping after everything that’s gone on. My mind’s a big jumble right now.”

“You should try to sleep,” he encouraged her. “Tomorrow will be a big day.”

“Are we going straight to the court?” she asked.

“The High Court is not in session on Saturday. We will go to the castle.”

“Castle?”

“My parents want to meet you.”

“I’ve never met a king or a queen.”

“You have, but you don’t remember.”

“What’s your father like?” Izzy asked.

“He’s very … kingly.”

“That’s intimidating,” she admitted. “I’m glad I don’t remember meeting him or I might be more nervous than I already am.”

“He only wants to reassure himself you are alive and well.” Niko squeezed her hand. “You have nothing to worry about.”

This time Izzy knew the prince was wrong. Dead wrong.

She had lots to worry about, starting with the tingles shooting up her arm as he touched her. But even worse was the realization that she didn’t want him to let go of her hand.

Not now.

Not when they landed in Vernonia.

Not … ever.

AS THE plane cruised at thirty-three thousand feet, the interior cabin lights dimmed. The engines droned, but unlike the white noise device Niko usually traveled with, the sound did not soothe him. He couldn’t sleep. Too many things weighed on his mind. But a busy day did lie ahead. He should at least try to rest.

Niko pressed the button on the armrest. The leather seat reclined into a comfortable position. He closed his eyes but couldn’t stop the continuous stream of information flowing through his brain. Thoughts about Vernonia, Julianna, his father and most especially the woman sitting in the seat next to him.

Isabel.

Opening his eyes, he turned toward her.

She sat with her seat reclined and her head resting against a pillow. She’d fallen asleep after struggling against her heavy, drooping eyelids and drawn-out yawns for almost an hour.

Isabel’s unwillingness to give in to her tiredness without a fight made him wonder if she turned everything she did into a battle. Her actions today suggested as much. But the political peace that came with her lineage could be good for the country.

Yes, Isabel seemed like a fighter. No doubt the Vernonian in her. Niko smiled at the thought that she would likely disagree with him. No matter, he would want her on his side. If he had a side. Thankfully those days were over. No one would be forced to choose who to support or who to fight again.

Once he and Julianna said the words “I do,” Niko would have the financial resources and international support to bring his country into the modern age and, in time, the European Union.

Nothing could stand in his way now.

Not an antiquated custom. Not a childhood bride.

Niko’s gaze focused on Isabel once again.

He’d been married to her for the past twenty-three years, almost all of her entire life and over three-quarters of his. If not for the missing bride box, he would have never known she existed. Things would have been less complicated for him that way. But once she received her inheritance her circumstance would improve dramatically. A better life was waiting for Isabel. The life her parents would have wanted for her. That made what he was going through more acceptable.

He worried what responsibilities would be thrust on Isabel’s shoulders once she arrived in Vernonia. People would judge her. She would need training to be a princess. Stylish clothes and makeup lessons would improve her appearance. A manicure would help with her dirty, chipped nails though not much could rid her hands of the calluses, cuts and scars. Perhaps she could start a new fashion trend by wearing gloves.

In spite of Isabel’s faults and disregard for etiquette and style, she was a refreshing change from the other royals he’d encountered over the years. She was not caught up in the tangled web of tradition. Even Julianna, as perfect as she was, came from a kingdom more out-of-date than Vernonia.

He admired Isabel for working on cars. He remembered what being a soldier was like. Living day-to-day, sometimes hour-to-hour. It was the closest thing to an ordinary existence he’d had. Even after she put her mechanic days behind her, she could relate to the people at their level.

Isabel might not know how to be a princess yet, but at least she was a contemporary woman, something rarely found in his country. He could use that to his advantage as he moved forward with his plans. Though right now she looked more like a schoolgirl than a woman with the cashmere blanket tucked around her shoulders.

The cover rose and fell with each of her breaths. Her hair fanned across the pillow, the brown strands contrasting with the white fabric. The slender column of her neck contradicted the stiff backbone she’d shown earlier. The curve of her cheek and fullness of her lips weren’t diminished by the lack of makeup and lip-gloss on her face. She possessed a natural beauty.

Although Niko appreciated her spirit and self-reliance, he couldn’t deny the appeal of this softer side. The defiant set of her chin and tight jaw had relaxed. The result of sleep, but she looked so peaceful and serene. He wondered if she ever looked this way awake. He doubted it.

With her lips slightly parted, she almost appeared to be smiling. The result of a pleasant dream? A dream about him?

No. Her dreams were none of his business. Isabel might be his wife, but he should think of her like a sister. Anything else would be … inappropriate given his intention to marry Julianna.

Isabel shifted in her seat. The way she stretched reminded him of one of the feral cats who lived in the stable. As she settled into a new position, the top half of her blanket fell from her shoulders and pooled on her lap.

He could see the rise and fall of her chest better now. The V-neck collar gave a tantalizing view of creamy skin and lace. The fabric of her shirt stretched across her breasts. The cool cabin temperature beaded her nipples.

Niko covered her with the blanket and tucked the edge around her shoulders.

“Sir,” Jovan said, standing in the aisle.

Niko jerked his hands away from Isabel, feeling as if the palace’s renowned pastry chef had caught him sneaking a tulumbe from a batch soaking in syrup overnight.