Capturing the Crown Bundle

“No way,” she scoffed. “It had to be an accident, a drunk driver or something. First off, how would they even know where we are? Second, I still don’t know why anyone would want to kill me.”

“You’re carrying the prince’s only child.” He caught her arm. “That might be reason enough for some people.”

William and the other two men peered over the rail. The limo driver was on his cell phone, no doubt calling in the accident.

“I want to see.” Sydney shook off his hand and went to the edge of the cliff. The other car had come to rest at the bottom of the rock wall, a crumpled heap of twisted metal. “I hope you called for an ambulance,” she told William.

“I called the police. They’ll dispatch medical assistance.”

“If they survived.” Again, Chase spoke almost in her ear. Still dazed, Sydney fought the urge to turn her face into his chest for comfort.

Looking shaken, their driver walked over. His short, black hair was mussed, as if he’d run his fingers through it in agitation. His face drained of color, he shook his head. “They were either drunk or…”

“Something,” Chase put in smoothly. The warning look he gave Sydney let her know he didn’t want his speculation about the near miss revealed to the driver, a man not in his employ.

Lights flashing, the police arrived, along with a fire truck and an ambulance. Because of the wreck’s location, only one police cruiser stayed to take the report; the others drove back the way they’d come. There was a public swimming area further north that would give them access to the crash if they drove up the beach.

Once they’d finished supplying the remaining officer with details, and determined the limousine was still drivable, they climbed back in to resume their journey.

A few more miles and several more curves in the road later, they pulled up to massive iron gates. Worked into the iron was the royal coat of arms. She sighed, watching as the gates swung slowly open. The Royal Family of Silvershire’s private lake lodge, one of their many vacation hide-aways. This particular one she’d never heard of, though the press had reported on many others. In such a remote location, with no easy access, it seemed even the press hadn’t been able to infiltrate these gated walls. No doubt this was why Chase had chosen it as a hiding place for her.

After the accident that might not have been an accident, she was beginning to think Chase wasn’t so far from the mark. Until those crazy people were caught, maybe staying here with protection was the best option.

Inhaling deeply, still shaky, she tried for calm. None of their party had been hurt, but if the other car had merely made a blunder, she felt horrible for them.

“Chase?”

He looked at her, his hazel eyes serious. “Yes?”

“Can we call and check on those people back there? You know, whether they lived or…”

“Died? We can check with the police department later.” His serious expression told her he was just as affected by what had happened as she.

“Miss Conner?” William leaned forward. “I think you’ll like it here. The royal family maintains a very sumptuous lifestyle, even at this lake lodge. We have a full-service salon, a masseuse and personal trainer, as well as a fully equipped gym and indoor pool.” He smiled, too brightly, as though he was trying to erase the last hour with his words. “What more could you ask for?”

What more indeed? A clean bill of health for the baby.

She turned to look at Chase, startled to find him watching her intently.

“What?” She asked.

He shook his head and looked away without answering.

As the limo drove through, the gates closed behind them with a clank. Sydney let her head sink back against the plush leather and briefly closed her eyes. Deciding to stay was a relief of sorts. She was exhausted and could use a few days of rest and relaxation, especially in such lavish surroundings. No doubt this place had the kind of luxury she rarely got to enjoy anymore, especially when traveling with the symphony.

But she couldn’t relax until she’d received a clean bill of health both for herself and for her baby. She sat up, eager to see the physician and begin the tests which would, she hoped, relieve all her worries.

William stowed his laptop and the two other men put away their Palm Pilots. Briefly, she considered asking if the royal PR department issued the devices as standard equipment. Then she caught sight of the “lodge” and forgot all that.

Perched on the cliff like some massive cedar hawk overlooking the lake, the building looked large enough to easily accommodate one hundred or more guests. Through the two-story window over the door, she could see a wall of windows on the waterside, filling the house with light and a breathtaking view.

The limo coasted to a stop. The driver got out and opened the door for Sydney. When she stepped into the blinding sunlight, she stumbled. Instantly, Chase was there, offering his arm.

At first, she wanted to snub him, to show him she was perfectly capable of walking in on her own. But when she saw the massive double doors open and a footman wearing royal livery emerge, she changed her mind.

Though she might carry the blood of a princess, and, as a child, had often longed to meet her sire, Reginald had been her only exposure to royalty. Quite frankly, she found the prospect intimidating.

“Come on.” Keeping her arm in his, Chase led her up the stone steps, through the great doors and into the foyer. Their footsteps echoed on the green marble floor.

He released her arm as the doors closed behind them. Turning slowly, Sydney tried to take it all in, but couldn’t.

Gleaming floors, walls and ceiling crafted of warm oak, she had an impression of granite and wood and steel, skillfully melded into a welcoming warmth that could have won design awards. This place was the stuff of glossy magazines, reminding her of her mother’s penthouse condo.

As she took it all in, she spied a familiar black instrument case leaning against one wall.

“My cello!” She crossed the room, trailing her fingers over the black case reverently. “How did you locate it?”

“We had it flown in.” William smiled as both she and Chase turned to stare at him in surprise. “Rest assured, it wasn’t damaged in the shooting. The hotel was holding it in their lost-and-found department, along with your suitcase full of clothing. We’ve put that in your room.”

Chase shot her a look that said I told you so.

No matter. Sydney sighed with pleasure. Now all she needed was a clean bill of health for her baby and a way home. Then her life would be just about perfect. Even if her baby would never have a father.

A man who could have only been the butler cleared his throat. “May I show you to your room?”

She swung round to eye Chase. “I’d prefer to see the doctor first.”

“Get settled and freshen up.” Despite his size, or maybe because of it, Chase looked at home in the deliberately rugged yet opulent surroundings. He stood out from the other men like a rare coin among wooden currency. “I’ll send someone for you when the doctor is ready.”

Nodding, she turned to follow the butler and realized her misgivings were because she didn’t want to leave Chase—proving once again that she wasn’t herself since the plane crash. Despite feeling mortified, she couldn’t stop herself from looking at him over her shoulder.

“You’ll be fine.” The kindness in his voice told her that somehow he must have understood.

Her room was, like the rest of the lodge, luxuriously comfortable. Everything, from the oversized bed covered with a cream-colored, exquisitely soft, down comforter, to the well-made, gleaming oak furniture, was of the highest quality. The room had the feel of an ultraprivate, ultraluxurious, resort for the very pampered ultrarich.

Feet sinking into the thick carpet, Sydney padded over to the windows and pulled the heavy lined drapes open.

She gasped out loud at the view. Her room overlooked the lake. It spread out below her like a liquid sapphire, shimmering in the sunlight. Whitecap waves dotted the surface, along with sailboats and the occasional yacht. She could make out other homes dotting the countryside, all large and luxurious, though none matched this one for sheer magnificence.

Since she’d showered earlier, she had nothing to do but wait.

“The doctor’s here.”

Startled, Sydney turned to find a smiling young woman in a maid’s uniform hovering in the doorway. Evidently, she’d once again forgotten to close her door.

“If you’ll follow me, please?”

Eagerness warring with nervousness, Sydney went.

Chapter 8

Once the examination was complete, Sydney waited, her heartbeat booming in her ears. Dr. Kallan had confirmed Sydney’s suspicion that only an ultrasound examination and a complete blood workup would tell if her baby was all right. The equipment to do this test was, of course, only available at a hospital. The nearest facility was in the next town inland, a good thirty-minute drive on winding roads. Dr. Kallan had gone to tell Chase and the others.

A moment later, the doctor returned. He smiled reassuringly as he patted Sydney’s hand. “They’ve agreed to take you into town. The car is being brought around now. I’ll meet you at the emergency room there.”

A grim-faced Chase and his three stooges waited for her in the great room.

“Ready?” His cool gaze gave away nothing.

Schooling her own expression to match his, Sydney nodded.

Though they left by unmarked car, someone must have tipped off the reporters. When their black Mercedes pulled up to the emergency-room entrance, a cluster of photographers eagerly awaited their arrival.

“Keep driving,” Chase instructed the driver. “This isn’t an emergency. Go around to the back.”

“They’ve probably got people stationed there, as well.” Sydney kept her tone calm. “If so, take me back to the emergency room. Dr. Kallan said he’d be waiting for me there.”

“It doesn’t look like we’re going to be able to avoid the reporters.” William sounded energized.

“I’ll be fine.” Sydney sighed. “I’ve been dealing with them off and on for most of my life.”

“Don’t speak to the press.” Chase met her gaze. “Let us handle them.”

“Don’t worry. I have nothing to say to them.”

Scowling, he glared at her. “They think you married the prince.”

“I know.”

“Wishing it was true?”

She only shrugged off his sharp-edged question. At least if she had, her baby would be acknowledged. Legitimate.

On the other hand, her child would be heir to the throne. He or she would never have a normal life. Thinking of her half-brothers and-sisters and the rarefied air they lived in, she’d already decided she didn’t want that for her own child, not if she could help it. She’d planned to discuss alternatives with Reginald.

But since he’d refused even to speak to her, that talk had never happened. Now it was all up to her to take care of her baby.

Chase eyed her, his sharp gaze missing nothing. “I’ve got people setting up an official press conference for you this afternoon, so you can set the record straight. Once it’s known you’re not carrying the next official heir, maybe the death threats will cease.”

She sighed. “I was hoping hiding out here would take care of that.”

“Until we know more about that car that tried to run us off the road, I’m taking no chances. Plus, with all the reporters here,” he gestured at the waiting crowd, “whoever is after you will know exactly where you are.”

She peered through the tinted glass, eyeing the eager faces, the microphones and cameras. Somehow, without intending to, she’d managed to achieve what her mother had always craved. She was in the spotlight.

All Sydney wanted to do was return home to Naessa and her life of relative anonymity. She wanted to lick her wounds in private and prepare for the upcoming birth of her child.

“Coming here might have been a big mistake.” William leaned forward. “They’ll make the connection between this town and the royal lodge. Before long they’ll be camped outside the gates.”

“I needed to have tests run.” Sydney kept her tone firm. “So I had to come here whether you like it or not. Plus, you can’t keep me hidden forever.” Unbidden, thoughts of Chawder Island intruded. She couldn’t help but speculate on what would have happened if they’d stayed longer. She’d never experienced anything quite like the explosiveness of nearly making love with Chase. She wondered what the real thing would be like.

The heat in Chase’s gaze told her he shared her thoughts.

Embarrassed, she looked away, back out her window to where the vultures circled with their flashbulbs and their video cameras.

The car slowly circled the building. Clusters of reporters were gathered around each entrance.

“They’re unbelievable.” Sydney had gotten her first experience with paparazzi early. As a young girl, her mother had enjoyed taking her out in public dressed in outlandishly expensive outfits. Someone had always been around to snap a picture of the illegitimate princess and her lovely mother for the tabloids.

Her mother had considered it amusing. She’d preened for the cameras, thriving on the notoriety. Sydney had always been the opposite. As she’d grown, she’d begun to see the press as stalkers and her mother as a panderer.

Once grown, she’d done her best to live in a way designed not to draw attention. The more quietly she lived her life, the less the press hounded her. Lack of flash and bling made for boring pictures. Soon, the press all but ignored her. A cello-playing, illegitimate princess who never partied wasn’t considered newsworthy.

Until the Crown Prince of Silvershire had taken a shine to her. Dating Reginald had changed all that. She grimaced at the thought. Like her mother, the prince had seemed to enjoy the attention. Sydney had been content to leave him the limelight. She’d preferred to remain in the shadows.

Damned if she was going to let them hound her baby.

“Take us back to the emergency room,” Chase ordered the driver. “Pull up as close to the door as possible. I’ll take her in there.”

The instant she and Chase stepped from the car, they were surrounded. Flashbulbs popped and microphones were thrust in her face while the reporters shouted questions. Stone-faced, Chase shouldered his way through while Sydney clung to his back.

Each time someone shoved a mike in front of him, he repeated four words. “Press conference later today.”

Once inside, they found the brazen press had followed.

“There.” Chase pointed. A nurse held a door open for them, letting them bypass the check-in desk. One of the perks of being attached to royalty, Sydney supposed.

“Wait here.” Her shoes squeaking on the linoleum, the nurse indicated two hard plastic chairs. “Dr. Kallan is on his way.”

Sydney sat. Chase remained standing, his hands crammed in his pockets.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Instead of answering, he responded with a question. “You really don’t like the spotlight, do you?”

So that was it. Of course. He was head of public relations. Dealing with reporters was his job and, she suspected, his life.

“I told you I didn’t. Why? Was there something wrong with the way I avoided them?”

Though she’d meant the question as sort of a joke, he regarded her with a serious expression. “Do you really want the picture they splash all over the newspapers to be one of you with your face burrowed into my chest?”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t really care. All I was thinking about at the time was getting through the crowd, not how I’d look in the news.”

“But—”

“Miss Conner?” The nurse was back. “If you’ll follow me.”

Chase started to rise, too, but Sydney stopped him with a look. “You can wait here.”

The muscle that worked in his jaw was the only sign he gave of how he felt about her request. But he did as she’d asked. As the automatic doors closed behind her, Sydney felt a stab of regret, which she automatically suppressed. Her baby’s welfare had nothing to do with Chase and wanting his support was only more foolishness on her part. Plus, all the water she’d had to drink in preparation made her uncomfortable.

The sonogram was done with quiet efficiency, the warmed gel and the gentle motions of the technician soothing. After they’d finished and cleaned her up, she was taken to another room where a different nurse drew blood.

Barely forty-five minutes had passed before Sydney rejoined Chase in the private waiting room.

“All done?” Chase’s hooded gaze spoke of a simmering anger. Since he had no reason to be angry, Sydney pretended not to notice.

“It’ll be a little while until I get the results.” Despite her best efforts to sound cool, calm and collected, her voice caught.

“Don’t worry.” He touched her arm. “Everything will be all right.” He held her gaze for the space of a heartbeat before he looked away.

Because she hoped he was right, she said nothing. Instead, she studied his chiseled profile. Perversely, she wished he wasn’t so damn beautiful. If he weren’t, she might find it easier to hate him, if it came to that when all this ended.

She could deal with that, she told herself, as long as she didn’t lose her heart. And God knew, she would never be that foolish again.

The nurse emerged, causing them both to look up. “If you’ll follow me?”

This time, when Chase followed, Sydney let him.

They were led down a long hall to a small office. Two high-backed leather chairs faced a mahogany desk.

“The doctor will be with you shortly,” the nurse said.

Sydney stared at the chair, her rapid heartbeat feeling as though it were in her throat.

“Sit.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

His smile was a flash of white. “Of course you can. What else are you going to do? You can’t pace in such a tiny room.”

He had a point. Sydney sat.

When he lowered himself into the chair next to her and then took her hand, she froze. He squeezed her fingers and she decided to take the comfort he offered.

A moment later, Dr. Kallan bustled into the room, smiling broadly. “I have good news. You’re absolutely fine and your baby is developing normally.”

Sydney released her breath. Clutching Chase’s hand, she turned to him, her eyes filling. “Thank God.”

Chase’s hard expression softened. “Congratulations.”

Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him before jumping to her feet and hugging the doctor. “You don’t know what a relief it is to hear that.”

The gray-haired doctor smiled back. “You’re about eight weeks along. Everything looks good.”

“Could you tell the baby’s sex from this sonogram?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. It’s too early. We can usually determine the sex of the fetus accurately by sixteen to eighteen weeks using ultrasound or fifteen to sixteen weeks with an amniocentesis. Or, if you’d like to come back in two weeks, we can do a CVS, chorionic villus sampling. That’s usually reliable at ten or eleven weeks.”

“I won’t be here then.”

At her words, Chase stiffened.

The doctor smiled. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to guess a bit longer.” He stood and held out his hand.

After she shook it, he inclined his head. “If you need anything else, have your people give me a call.”

Once in the hallway, Sydney headed for the doors under the sign marked Exit. Chase stopped her.

“We need to discuss a strategy.”

“A strategy for what?”

“Dealing with the press.”

She sighed. “What’s to discuss? We’ll just do the same thing we did before. Breeze through them with a bunch of ‘No comments.’”

“We can’t. We can get away with ignoring them once. If we do it twice, they’ll speculate.”

“So? Let them.” She tried to pull away, but his hand on her shoulder prevented her. “Let me go.”

“Do you want to read a story in the morning about how you got rid of your baby?”

Shocked, she stared up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know how some of them can be, especially the tabloids. Lacking truth to report, they’ll simply make something up.”

“I would never do such a thing.”

“They don’t know that. The general public doesn’t either.”

“You can tell you’re in public relations.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

Stoically, he watched her.

“Fine. We’ll make a statement. What do you want me to say?” Despite her anger, her emotions were perilously close to the surface. The back of her throat stung, and she blinked away tears.

“Sydney—” With a curse, he crushed her to him, covering her mouth with his in a hard, possessive kiss.

Neither heard the doors silently swing open.

A flashbulb popped. Then another. Suddenly, reporters with camcorders and cameras surrounded them.

Jaw clenched tightly, Chase released her.

She turned in time to see the cameraman flash a thumbs-up sign. She recognized the reporter standing next to him as Chris Endov, one of the beat reporters for the Daily Press, Silvershire’s main paper.

“What do you want, Endov?” Chase asked. Though he sounded pleasant enough, Sydney recognized the thread of steel underlying his tone.

“I have a few questions.” Endov came closer. “For you, Miss Conner. First you’re hot and heavy with the prince, and now that he’s dead, you’re with his royal publicist? Any particular reason for that?”

Chase answered before Sydney could even open her mouth. “No comment.” Arm around her waist, he began shepherding her away.

The reporters followed, shouting questions.

“Are you still pregnant?”

Sydney tensed. Without even looking at them, Chase tossed off a quick, “No comment.”

“No, wait.” Sydney stopped, turning to face the restless throng. “I want to answer that. Yes, I definitely am still pregnant. I came here to have a routine checkup.”

More flashbulbs. Several of the camcorders were rolling. Sydney tried to look a dignified as possible, memories of her mother’s simpering pandering haunting her.

“Do you know your baby’s sex?” someone shouted.

She forced a smile. “No, it’s too early for that.”

“Were you and Prince Reginald secretly married?”

Without waiting for her answer, another reporter followed up. “Now that the prince is dead, are you planning to step forward and proclaim your unborn child heir to the throne?”

She stood straight and tall, the afternoon breeze lifting her hair. “Absolutely not.”

“Then,” someone else called out, “you’re saying your baby will be born unwanted and illegitimate, like you?”

Someone gasped. The rowdy reporters fell silent, one by one. Chase cursed.

For Sydney, time seemed to stand still. She blanched, turning her face away from the crowd, toward Chase, longing for the comfort of his broad chest.

He took a step toward her and stopped, his expression dark. When she raised her gaze to him, she knew she wasn’t strong enough or quick enough to hide her stark pain.

“Old wound,” she said, striving for lightness but sounding instead as though she’d taken a blow to the solar plexus. She kept her eyes fixed on Chase while she spoke, using him as an anchor.

Something dark, something haunted, crossed his face. She noticed how he fisted his hands, though he kept them at his sides while he searched the crowd to try and find out who’d spoken.

She didn’t want to know.

Someone cleared their throat.

“Who asked that?” Voice deadly calm, Chase searched their faces. No one stepped forward.

“Then we’re done here,” he said, taking Sydney’s arm to lead her off.

“I have one more question.” A woman wearing too much makeup and an overloud orange dress raised her hand.

Chase sighed. “Go ahead.”

“Miss Conner, you never answered the question.” Her broad face had the determination of a bulldog. “Is there any truth to the rumor that you and Prince Reginald were married before his death?”