Capturing the Crown Bundle

The knowledge shouldn’t hurt so much, but it did. Mostly, she thought with a wry smile, because she’d unintentionally done the one thing she’d always sworn not to. She’d inadvertently mimicked her mother’s life.

When she looked up she realized Chase watched her and most likely had misinterpreted her smile. No matter, she was going home to Naessa soon. Then what he or anyone else in the country of Silvershire thought wouldn’t matter a whit. Not at all.

She’d managed to do as her mother had done, but unlike her mother, she wouldn’t ever call her baby a mistake. From now on, Sydney had a child to think of. From now on, her baby would always come first.

A quick glance at the handsome man beside her told her nothing. Chase Savage had protected her, but what were his real intentions?

They pulled up to an iron gate marked Private. Chase pushed a button on his console and the barricade swung open. Driving slowly through the rows of hangars, he punched in a number on his cell phone, a razor-thin model which looked like something out of a James Bond movie. He spoke a few terse words—not enough for her to glean the gist of the conversation, and snapped the metal phone closed.

“All settled,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve gotten us emergency clearance.” They turned right, into the airport’s private section. Sydney had flown out of here before, as most of her friends’ families were wealthy. Here, in various hangars, the rich kept their personal jets. No doubt the royal family had several.

“Emergency clearance for what?” she asked, as they pulled up in front of a nondescript, gray metal hangar. “If Reginald—” she swallowed tightly as she spoke the name “—didn’t send for me, then why’d you bring me here at all?”

He frowned. “I had to take you somewhere safe.”

“Not really.” Studying him, she wished she could read his closed expression. “I’m not your responsibility. As a matter of fact, why are you—head of Silvershire’s public relations department—here to begin with?”

For the first time since he’d appeared in her hotel room, cool, confident Chase Savage appeared at a loss for words.

She pressed her advantage. “You started to say something earlier, before the shooting started. You said you’d been authorized to do something. What was it?”

“Not now.” He shook his head. “We’ll discuss that later, once we’re in the air.”

“In the air to…?”

“I’m taking you home, to Naessa. You’ll be safer there than here.”

“Home?” Exactly where she wanted to go. Except…“I need my cello.” The Strad could never be replaced.

“I’ll send someone after your instrument,” he promised. “The police should be there by now. They won’t let anyone mess with it.”

“I need to see a doctor and make sure everything is all right with the baby.”

“You can do that once you get home. It’s only a forty-five-minute flight to Naessa.”

Something still bothered her, though she wasn’t sure what. He’d addressed her every concern smoothly. Too smoothly. Maybe that was the problem.

She glanced around them. “This doesn’t look like the royal hangar. Where’s the Silvershire crest?”

Expression implacable, he shrugged. “The king won’t allow that because of the danger from terrorists. The royal crest could act as a huge bull’s-eye for undesirables.”

He had a point, though she hated the word he’d used. Undesirables. In Naessa, as the king’s unacknowledged daughter, she’d been called that and a lot worse. Bastard had been her mother’s particular favorite. For a while Frances had adopted it almost as a nickname, referring to Sydney as her bastard spawn, reminding her at an early age how she’d ruined her mother’s life.

Sydney vowed her child—son or daughter, whichever—would only enrich hers.

Chase got out of the car and crossed around the front to Sydney’s side, opening her door and holding out his hand. She slipped her hand into his larger one, noting the calluses on his long, elegant fingers, and allowed him to help her from the low-slung car.

Staring up at his rugged face, Sydney wondered about his ancestry. Though he wore a well-cut, conservative suit, his shaggy hair and hawklike features made him appear dangerous. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn he had a trace of pirate in him.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he smiled, stunning her. He really was, she noted abstractly, struggling to find her breath, quite beautiful. In a hard, rugged, utterly masculine way.

She reminded herself that beautiful men were bad news. Reginald had provided her with living proof of that.

Once Chase had closed the door behind her with a quiet thunk, she had another round of misgivings and tugged her hand free. While private jet was always more comfortable than commercial, she barely knew this man.

“We don’t have time for this.” He consulted his Rolex, shooting her a look of pure male exasperation.

The watch looked familiar. Ah, yes. Reginald had gifted all his staff with similar watches for Christmas.

“Shall we go?”

Finally she nodded.

Up the steps into the waiting jet they went. A short, blond man greeted them. Evidently, he was one of the pilots. He pulled the door closed before disappearing into the cockpit.

Sydney had time to note the jet’s plush interior before one side of the hangar opened like a giant, automatic garage door.

Chase barely glanced at her. “Buckle your seat belt.”

His cell phone chirped. Immediately, he answered, turning away from her to try and conduct his business with a measure of privacy.

The plane began to taxi forward.

Chase closed his phone and then powered off. When he looked at her, the dangerous mercenary had returned, full-force.

“What is it?” she asked. Something, some wild suspicion, an absurdly ridiculous hope, made her ask. “Was that call from Reginald?”

His hazel gaze touched on her coolly. “Is that why you came to Silvershire? To see the prince?”

“Of course. I wanted him to look me in the face and tell me…”

“Tell you what?”

“Never mind.” No way was she admitting to this man, this stranger, the depth of her shame. Reginald had pretended to love her. And now, when she carried his child, a baby they’d made together, he pretended he didn’t know her. She sighed. “Forget I asked that. It was foolish of me.”

Chase watched her a heartbeat longer, then he dipped his head, his hazel eyes shuttered.

Another thought occurred to her. “Is this plan to remove me from your country carried out at Reginald’s direction?”

“No.” He gave her a long, hard look. “This is entirely spur-of-the-moment. Not planned. After what happened back at the hotel, I had no choice. It’s not safe for you in Silvershire. Especially now.”

That caught her attention. “Especially now?”

“That phone call…Things have changed,” Chase said softly, as though his words could hurt her.

“Why? What’s happened?” She searched his hard, rugged face. “What are you not telling me?”

He took her hand and leaned forward, compassion turning his hazel eyes dark. “That phone call I just got? It was the Duke of Carrington, my boss. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Prince Reginald, the father of your unborn child, is dead.”

Chapter 2

“Dead?”

Her amazing eyes widened as she took in his words. Shock and disbelief flashed across her face. She hadn’t known. Russell had been so certain, but he’d been wrong.

Sydney Conner was hearing the news for the first time. Chase would bet his life on that.

“Dead?” She repeated, bewilderment echoing in her husky voice. “Reginald? Are you sure?”

Still watching her closely, he nodded. Unbelievably, he had a random urge to touch her, to stroke her creamy skin and soothe the grief from her face. Instead, he clenched his jaw and kept his hands to himself.

“When?” Her husky voice vibrated with sadness.

“He died last night, at his country estate. We—that is, the royal public relations department—have a press conference scheduled for—” he glanced at his watch “—right about now.”

“A press conference?” She said the words as though they were foreign. Again her sapphire gaze searched his face. “You’re telling the truth? Reginald…is…really…dead?”

“Yes.” He kept his own face expressionless. “You’ll see it in the papers tomorrow.”

Though her hands shook, she felt no immediate sense of loss. She’d already lost Reginald the day he’d walked away from her and the child they’d created. He’d made it plain he wanted nothing further to do with the woman he’d once courted so ardently.

The foolish woman, a bitter smile curved her lips, who’d trusted his words of love. “I can’t believe it.”

He said nothing, merely continuing to hold her hand and watch her.

Reginald. Dead. Now her baby would never have a chance to know its father. Even though Reginald had refused to acknowledge her pregnancy, she’d had hopes he would change once the child was born.

Even though her own sire hadn’t.

“Was there an accident? How…how did he die?”

“No accident. There’s some speculation it was a drug overdose. Other than that, I don’t know. They haven’t begun the autopsy. I’m sure I’ll be notified—as will the press—when they know anything.”

“Overdose?”

“You didn’t know he did drugs?”

Slowly, she shook her head. Pulling her hand free, she pressed herself into the seat. Tension began to build in her shoulders. For an instant, she longed for Camille, her talented, personal masseuse back home in Naessa, and she rubbed her aching neck. The beginnings of a headache started behind her eyes. Damn it. She felt vaguely guilty, though she knew her wishing him dead had nothing to do with what had actually happened.

Though he’d dumped her and scorned their child, Reginald didn’t deserve to die.

“Are you all right?”

She’d been so lost in her own thoughts she’d managed almost to forget he was there. Almost being the key word. She doubted people often forgot a man like Chase Savage. Even sitting still, he dominated the cabin space.

“I’m fine,” she murmured. “I think.”

For a moment she thought she saw compassion in his hazel eyes. Because she didn’t want that, she swallowed and lifted her chin. “Did you know Reginald well?”

“Prince Reginald?” He raised his brows. “He was a bit out of my stratosphere.”

What could she say to that? “He was out of everyone’s stratosphere.”

“What about you?” he asked. “How’d you meet him?”

“After a performance.” A thousand bittersweet memories rushed back to her. He’d sent her flowers the first night. And every night after that, in every city in which the symphony had performed. He’d come backstage every single time, charming her fellow performers, his dark and hooded gaze focused on her. Only on her.

Afraid, she’d refused his invitation to dinner. Again and again. Her refusals never seemed to faze him, for he’d continued to ask until finally, wearily, she gave in. After all, as he’d pointed out, it was merely a simple meal. What objections could she have to eating?

That dinner had been the beginning of her downfall.

“Reliving the excitement?” Though his tone was kind, he gave her a mocking smile.

Without thinking, she shook her head. “Just remembering,” she told him softly. “Reginald was a charismatic man.” She wouldn’t tell him the rest. “His death will be felt by many.”

“Perhaps.” Chase gave her an odd look. “But then, of course, you must have seen a different side of him.”

Before Reginald’s betrayal, Sydney could have talked about him for hours, and cherished every word. She’d believed he’d loved her, she who’d been so patently unloved her entire life. She’d bloomed under his attention. Now that she knew the truth, that she’d merely been a flavor of the month to him, she felt foolish. What she’d mistaken for love on her own part was mere infatuation. But she’d refused to retreat into her safe little shell. For her baby’s sake, she’d pursued Reginald back to his own country, determined to give her child what she herself had never had. A father.

Staring blindly out her window, she realized the light-colored fog had changed, darkened.

She took a deep breath. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here. In view of what’s happened, I think I should know.”

After a moment, he nodded. “As you know, I’m head of public relations for Silvershire. Prince Reginald forwarded the e-mails you sent him to the duke, who dispatched me to handle you.”

“Handle me?” As though she was some royal hanger-on who now presented a problem.

“Yes. I was sent to check you out.” His gaze swept over her, making her insides tighten.

“Now it no longer matters. Reginald is dead. My baby will never know its father now.”

“No longer matters?” He watched her closely. “You aren’t going to try and claim rights to the throne?”

After a startled moment, she could only shake her head. “I have no reason to do that. If King Weston wants my child to be named heir, then I would consider it.”

“Your child has royal blood. Not just Reginald’s but yours. You’re Prince Kerwin’s daughter.”

“Bastard daughter.” She smiled, a pro at hiding the hurt. “There’s a world of difference between the two. Believe me. That’s why I find it difficult to believe that someone wants to kill me. I’m important to no one, especially my sire.”

Hearing her own words, she winced. She hadn’t meant to reveal so much to this employee of Silvershire’s royal family.

“I still think the attack was because you’re carrying Reginald’s baby.”

“Why would that matter? Reginald and I were not married. My child,” she swallowed, forcing herself to say the hateful words, “is illegitimate.” Like her. “A bastard child can never be heir. Believe me, I should know that better than anyone.”

“True, but the playing field has changed. The prince is dead. Your child is the last of the royal bloodline.”

“I care little about that. Being a princess has only brought me discomfort and unwanted attention.”

“Unwanted?” He still watched her closely. “Is that why you haven’t gone to the newspapers or granted a television interview?”

He sounded incredulous, but then he was in public relations. Nothing would be more important to him than the press.

She couldn’t tell him she didn’t want to be like her own mother, who seemed to spend much of her life courting reporters, while Sydney had been, until Reginald, able to skirt the edges of their radar. She’d like to return to her former quiet life, if possible. “I’d prefer to avoid notoriety.”

His incredulous expression told her he didn’t believe her. “You’re saying you’d actually shun the limelight? You’re an illegitimate princess who’s been largely overlooked. Until now. I know how this works. You’ll bask in your fifteen minutes of fame, just like anyone else.”

Like any other groupie, he meant. As her mother had been. Still was, as far as she knew. Sydney no longer spoke to her mother. “I repeat, I’d prefer a quiet life.”

“You could make a lot of money exploiting this.”

“I have plenty of money,” she said stiffly. “My sire set up a trust fund for me. And, as I’m sure you know, I play cello with the Naessa Royal Symphony.”

“True, but now you’ll have a child to support. One can always use more money.”

She looked out the window instead of attempting to dignify his comments with a response. They’d flown into dark clouds. Lightning flashed to the west, and rain splattered the jet’s windows.

Inhaling, exhaling, she willed herself calm. Years of yoga, breathing exercises and even hypnosis had helped conquer her unreasonable terror of storms.

The jet banked sharply to the right.

An involuntary gasp escaped her.

Chase smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I think it’s just one of those sudden spring thunderstorms. If it had been forecast, we wouldn’t have flown anywhere near it. I’m sure we’ll go around. Franco’s flown this jet a hundred times or more, and Dell’s been his copilot for years.”

Before he finished speaking, the jet dropped, a rapid bounce, pushing Sydney up and against the confines of her seat belt before she bounced back. “What the—?”

“Turbulence.”

Since Chase’s implacable face showed no signs of alarm, Sydney took his words at face value. His very serenity was soothing, though she found herself wondering if the man was ever alarmed at anything.

The rain began to pound them. Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed stronger and more often. It looked as though they’d flown right into the middle of the worst part of the storm.

“I thought you said he’d take us around?”

“I’m sure he’s trying. We’re climbing, can’t you feel it? This must be a large storm, so he’s probably trying to get above it instead of going around.”

All logical and competent-sounding. Still, Sydney’s gut instinct was sounding multiple alarms. Her absolute fear of storms came roaring back, intensified by the fact she was being tossed around in a small jet.

She took a deep, shaky breath. “It’s green outside.”

For the first time, Chase frowned. “That’s not good.”

Her stomach plummeted. Was that the understatement of the year? She gripped her seat, closed her eyes, and muttered a prayer. When she opened her eyes, she immediately looked to Chase. He watched her intently.

“You’re absolutely terrified.” He sounded surprised.

Wordless with fear, she jerked her head in a nod.

“It’s going to be all right. Look.” He pointed out the window. “We’re still climbing. Soon we should be above the storm.”

Even as he spoke, the first hail hit them. Small, round balls of ice began battering the wings. Next came what sounded like a series of pops in rapid succession. Outside, the ice balls grew larger, more numerous, pummeling the wings. The jet veered left, then right.

“We’ve got to give Franco and Dell credit.” Admiration sounded in Chase’s clear tone. “They’re still climbing.”

The air outside her window became all ice balls, so many it appeared to be a blizzard of ice.

Bam. Sydney jumped, gripping the sides of her seat so tightly her hands ached. “That sounded like a small explosion.” She’d barely finished the words when the jet plummeted again. Muttering another quick prayer under her breath, she bit her lip to stifle a scream, unable to resist glancing at Chase for reassurance.

Though expressionless, the tight set of his jaw told her he was worried, too.

The dive lasted longer this time. It seemed, she thought, fighting the first edges of panic, to go on forever.

Were they about to crash into the ocean? Or worse, into the mountainous edge of Silvershire? She had no idea where they were or what might be below them.

Then again, if they crashed at this speed, what they hit wouldn’t really matter.

Finally the plane leveled.

Sydney exhaled in relief.

“Despite his attempt to climb, I think we’ve lost a lot of altitude.” Chase sounded calm, matter-of-fact, as though none of this worried him. “I’d better go talk to Franco.” He pushed himself out of his seat and the plane lurched, then took another violent drop.

He lost his balance and stumbled toward Sydney.

Wide-eyed, she reacted instinctively, throwing up her arms. He stopped with his face inches from her breasts.

God help her, she could feel her face heating.

Slowly, he raised his head to meet her gaze. She could have sworn she saw a flicker of amusement in his hazel eyes before he climbed back to his feet. “My apologies.”

Tongue-tied, she dipped her head in acknowledgment.

“Wait here,” he ordered, making his way to the cockpit.

As if she planned on going anywhere! She grimaced as the jet pitched and bobbed. If she had a parachute, she’d definitely consider jumping. She flexed her shoulders, feeling tension knots as she stared at the closed cockpit door.

A moment later, Chase returned. His expression looked even grimmer, if such a thing was possible.

She straightened, her aches forgotten. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Not good. We’ve lost an engine. The hail must have damaged it.”

Her heart stopped. “What now?”

“Franco and Dell are good. They’re searching for a place to make an emergency landing. They’ll get us down safely.”

“With one engine?”

“Yes. We’ll be fine.”

Swallowing, she pushed back her panic. She’d traveled a lot with the symphony, and knew this wasn’t great, but it wasn’t lethal.

Thunder boomed again, so loudly the jet shook. A jagged bolt of lightning flashed so close she wondered how it had missed them. Though the hail had tapered off and was mixed with driving rain, the storm’s fury scared her almost as much as the possibility of crashing.

“Talk to me.” Not caring that her desperation showed in her voice, she touched his arm. “I need a distraction.”

Another man might have made light of her fear. But Chase took one look at her and nodded. “Tell me about your family.”

She had no family. “I’d rather hear about yours. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“I have two brothers and two sisters.” He smiled fondly. “We’re a noisy, affectionate bunch. They’re all married now, and their spouses are part of the family, as well.”

“But you’ve never been married?” Gripping her seat, she wondered why she’d asked, but as the plane did another hop-and-skip movement and she felt her stomach come up in her throat, she realized she didn’t care.

“No,” he said, his expression closed. For a moment she could have sworn she saw a flash of anger and hurt in his eyes, and she wondered.

Then she remembered. She’d read about him a few years back. Chase might work at keeping the royal family out of the news, but that meant his own life was up for public scrutiny, as well.

“You were engaged,” she said slowly. “To the daughter of an earl. I remember now. And there was some sort of scandal, involving another—”

“Yes.” His harsh voice cut at her like a knife. “I was engaged. It didn’t work out. No need to rehash all the details.”

There had been a baby, Sydney remembered. Another man’s child, though the woman had tried to pass it off as his to get him to marry her. The wedding ceremony had actually started when the woman’s lover, a high-ranking duke from Gastonia, had interrupted, claiming both the woman and the baby as his rather than Chase’s. While flashbulbs popped and cameras whirled, Chase had learned the truth. In front of the entire world, he’d been jilted.

The repercussions had nearly cost him his job. Though he’d presented a stone face to any and all questions, and had since cut a wide swath through Silvershire’s female population, Sydney knew how badly he must have been hurting.

After all, she could certainly relate.

“Did you love her?” she asked softly.

Instead of answering, he narrowed his eyes. “Did you love Reginald? Did you truly believe he was the one you’d spend the rest of your life loving?”

Throat tight, she nodded.

Emotion flashed in his gaze. Rage or torment, she couldn’t tell which. “Then I think we’re about equal, aren’t we? We both know what it’s like to be played for a fool.”

As she opened her mouth to apologize, a dark-haired man appeared in the doorway of the cockpit. The copilot, Dell. All the color seemed to have drained from his face.

“Chase.” One word, then he went back to his controls.

Instantly, Chase unbuckled and took off for the front of the plane. While he was gone, though the jet seemed steadier, she could have sworn they now descended rather than climbed.

An eternity seemed to pass before he returned.

His expression hard, he stood staring at her for a moment before dropping down into his seat and refastening the seat belt.

“Chase?” She touched his arm. “What did he want?”

“To give me bad news.” The gaze that met hers was bleak. “If you’re a praying person, you’d better start now. Though he’s bringing us down to try and land, the other engine has sustained damage, too. Franco doesn’t know how much longer it will last.”