Claimed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 3 (26 page)

Nicki huddled beneath the pounding water, and never felt more alone.

It was another several hours before the yacht slipped out into the Alaçati Bay, and Stefan turned away from the sunrise peeking over the horizon. The delay had been tedious, but not dangerous, in the end. Typical bureaucratic nonsense to ensure they had signed the right papers and paid the right fees before Turkey was willing to let them go. There’d been no mention of Ari or of the vagrant escape on the southern ridge, not a peep from Omir or any other Turkish official about anything going awry on the sleepy June night.

Sleep was not something he’d had much of through it all—catnaps only, with reports coming in from all directions.

The weather for sailing was clear. There should be nothing to obstruct their speed. They wouldn’t race home, wouldn’t draw attention, but at least they would not run into any storms. He didn’t know how Ari would handle a storm at sea, given how his odyssey had begun nearly a year ago.

The royal family had been put off with a convenient lie about the timing of the rescue operation—and more lies about the precise nature of the facilities they were infiltrating. Cyril knew the truth, but if the king and queen had received word of the possible conditions Ari had been enduring, it wouldn’t have helped matters. It probably would’ve complicated them, in fact, with Jasen and Catherine’s natural tendency to want to intervene using diplomatic channels.

And then there was the prince himself. Ari was being monitored in his state room, with surveillance cameras installed for this purpose in his sleeping quarters and even the bathroom. Not to invade his privacy, but to insure he didn’t become disoriented again or harm himself either by accident or misguided design. Stefan grimaced. The crown prince would not be affronted to learn of the surveillance, merely bemused. But that man in the state room was not the crown prince. He might never be.

The final piece of information was the most disquieting. The name Ryker Stavros had to come from somewhere, but Stefan couldn’t for the life of him deduce where. And all attempts to quietly ascertain the answer had met a dead end. Had Stavros helped Ari escape the wreckage of his plane? Had he attempted to harm Ari in some way, imprinting on him indelibly?

“Sir. The communications room is ready.”

“Good,” he said. “Miss Clark?”

“Already present. She was waiting for us when we knocked.”

That did finally ease Stefan’s tension, for all that it introduced another round of concerns. Nicki would undergo exhaustive tests when they returned to Garronia, but he wasn’t fooling himself into believing that she’d actually act on the results. She wasn’t a child, or in his command. He couldn’t force her to take the information they would provide her and care for herself appropriately. He couldn’t force her to stop taking so many risks, to stop pushing herself so relentlessly.

There were so many things he couldn’t do.

Shoving those thoughts out of his mind, he followed Tamas down to the communications and pushed inside. As Tamas had indicated, Nicki was there. She stood against the far wall, fresh and ready for anything in a tee-shirt and khakis. Her color was good, her eyes bright.

She’d hate that he was even thinking of her in those terms, as if she’d suffered an injury or illness. But the fact remained that she had. She’d have to get used to his concern.

He nodded to her and then to Tamas, who stood at the controls. “Patch us through.”

The screens came alive and Cyril Gerou was the first to catch his attention, but multiple screens flickered and Stefan sighed. The king, queen and current crown prince were also on the video screen, and their expressions indicated that they were braced for the worst.

“Report,” Cyril said crisply, giving no indication that Stefan had already been in contact with him. Probably wise.

“Our reconnaissance trip proved successful sir, your highnesses,” he said, focusing on Cyril and pushing on as all three members of the Andris family surged forward, brimming with questions.

“Ari is alive,” he raised his hand sharply, making the royal family flinch, though it didn’t stop Catherine from bursting into tears. “He appears to be suffering from a severe case of amnesia. He doesn’t know who he is or how he came to be in the airplane. He knows that he crashed, that he’s some sort of pilot. He believes his name is Ryker Stavros. We have not—”

“Ryker Stav—you’re joking.” It was Kristos who spoke, and Stefan flicked his gaze to the screen depicting the young prince. Kristos stared at him wide eyed, while Jasen turned to his wife and drew her close. “That name—that was a character Ari dreamed up when we were kids, an alter ego or whatever. Ryker Stavros was an international mercenary bounty hunter kind of guy, able to go anywhere, be anyone. We would role play games for hours where he was Ryker and I was an equally capable Drake Quinn or something like that.” He smiled weakly. “Only I wasn’t a pilot. I was a special forces operative.”

“He’s healthy though—he’s healthy?” Catherine turned from Jasen’s embrace and stared into the screen. “He doesn’t have his memory, but we can help him with that. We can help him.”

“He appears healthy,” Stefan said. “He’s submitted to a basic medical review aboard ship, but we’ll need a more exhaustive examination when he returns to Garronia.” He paused. “If his return to the capital city is considered advisable immediately. I’m not certain.”

“Why not—” Catherine’s anguished cry was quelled by King Jasen’s snapped response.

“You think it will delay his recovery? It will overwhelm him?”

“There’s simply no way to tell, your highness. He believes quite firmly that he was concussed in the crash, but he knows with a certainty his name and his trade. If we suddenly take that out from under him, I’m not sure how he will react.” Stefan grimaced. “Further, I’m not sure we want to manage the press once they learn that the prince has returned, but that he is in any way impaired.”

“He’s
not
impaired,” the queen protested hotly. “He’s injured—but he will recover.”

“He might recover, Catherine,” Jasen said. His words were stern, but not unkind. They had the result of making the queen go pale. “Ari is alive, and for that we are eternally grateful. He appears to be responding normally otherwise?”

“Yes, your highness,” Stefan said. “He appears in good health and of sound mind, other than his memory. I have no idea if that will change.”

“Agreed. But if we have the prince here on site, the media will learn of it. It could be overwhelming for him, and that couldn’t be helpful.”

“But how can we—how can he—” the queen’s throat worked as she tried to get hold of herself. “We have to be able to see him,” she whispered. “Surely that can be arranged somehow?”

“Ask Fran—she might know.”

Nicki’s voice sounded from the corner of the room, and she took a step back as everyone’s eyes turned to her.

The queen leaned forward, breaking away from Jasen. “What do you mean, she might know?” she demanded.

“Well, she worked with vets—active military too. That was her thesis study, the effects of PTSD on general cognitive something or other.” Nicki flapped her hand, clearly warming to the idea. “I don’t know the specifics, but she spent nearly a year on it so she would know. Heck, maybe she could talk to Ryker—Ari. Maybe she could help him remember who he was?”

The queen seized on the idea with both hands, turning to Kristos. “Where are the girls now?” she asked, but once again Jasen was the voice of reason.

“We have time, Catherine,” he said, his words calm. “It’s another several hours before the yacht will reach our shores.” He flicked his gaze to Cyril. “Do you agree with Stefan’s concern about where they should dock?”

“I do, your highness,” the chief adviser said carefully. “It might be advisable for the yacht to dock at Asteri for a few days. We can send a medical team there. If there’s a reason to bring Ari to the mainland, we can. If there’s a reason for him to remain, it’s a comfortable location.”

Stefan nodded. Asteri was the private island owned by the royal family but rarely used except as a getaway for esteemed guests seeking safe haven in the tiny country. The king and queen had long preferred to remain in the thick of the action in the capital city, but the island was isolated, pristine, and the facilities there—while more than suitable—were not as elaborate as the palace.

“It’s a good idea,” Stefan said. “Whether you recruit Miss Simmons or another psychologist, I would advise you to keep the circle of the informed quite tight. This is not something we want in the news.”

“No,” Catherine spoke before Jasen could. “No, we do not. We’ll—we’ll find someone we trust,” she said. “Take him to Asteri, Stefan. Thank you for bringing him home.”

He let his mouth soften into a brief smile. “I’m not the only one you should thank.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nicki stiffened as all attention focused on her once more. “Hey, I simply followed orders,” she said, lifting her hands.

“It was an excellent decision, your highness, to insist that Nicki accompany us on this mission,” Stefan said over her protest, his words impossibly polite and neutral, which somehow increased the impact of what he said next. “She was instrumental at every turn, from fulfilling her requirements as a travel videographer to stepping in where needed with the windsurfing community in Alaçati. She interacted capably with the Turkish officials and made suggestions that enabled us to complete the mission quickly and effectively.” He paused. “Without her, the mission would probably have been completed, but I’m not certain we would have recovered Ari as seamlessly.” He turned to her. “The kingdom of Garronia is in your debt.”

Nicki blinked, startled by the formality of his language, but the king and queen were focusing on her with renewed interest. “I have a feeling that will make a very interesting story,” the queen murmured, her brows lifted.

King Jasen merely looked concerned. “Everyone is safe? Uninjured?”

Nicki’s stomach knotted, but Stefan continued. “The entire team is safely aboard the yacht, unharmed. We do need to rechart our course for Asteri, but we expect to reach that port in approximately eight hours. It would be best if the team you were assembling was in place before we arrived. There are enough unoccupied villas there, I suspect, to ensure the prince’s privacy?”

“The guests we had on the island left yesterday. No one else is scheduled?” Jasen quirked a glance toward the queen, and she shook her head, her expression indicating that her thoughts were already on a dozen different topics.

Nicki stifled a grin. Of course the royal family would have a private island for their personal use, and of course they’d be able to staff it in a matter of hours. Poor Ari might not be walking into the palace, but she had a feeling he was going to be in for a dramatic welcome all the same. “We’ll be there before you, but keep us updated on your progress and any developments that will impact our personnel.”

“Of course, your highness.”

They talked for a short while further, then Stefan signed off. He spoke quickly to his men in Garronois, and they left as he turned to her. “My apologies for speaking in a language you don’t know. It’s quicker, and time is short. There’s a lot of preparation to take place in a few hours.”

“I can totally make myself scarce—”

“What? Oh—no,” he said. “There’s still the matter of the debrief. We’ll want to ensure our stories match before you’re interrogated by the queen.”

He gestured her out the door and she lifted her brows. “Interrogated?” she asked, though she obligingly exited in front of him.

“It will probably include a liberal helping of
tsipouro
,” he said. “You would do well to be prepared.”

His words were light—much lighter than the tone he’d used with the royal family, and Nicki found herself grinning in response. To her surprise, Stefan didn’t take her to another of the small conference rooms, however, but up the corridor to the main deck, then across to where the sleeping cabins were situated. He stopped at his state room.

“The veranda here is more private and protected from the wind. We can talk,” he said, ushering her inside.

“Of course.” She pointedly did not glance toward the doors that led to the bedchamber, and instead headed outside.

Stefan was right. The small sitting area was wonderfully comfortable, open to the sky but with walls high enough to cut most of the stiff breeze coming off the ocean. Nicki ducked under the shade to sit at the table, and Stefan joined her, their chairs angled to make the most of the view.

The view and decided proximity to each other.

Stop it
, Nicki reminded herself again. Her time with Stefan was rapidly nearing an end, and she needed to focus on what was real, not what was wishful thinking.

“So,” she said, leaning forward to put her elbows on the table. “What do I need to change about the story? Or is it a matter of not giving specific details?”

“The queen is cagier than that,” Stefan said. He also leaned forward, and Nicki fought her shiver. He was so—competent. Strong, vibrant, masculine. She was going to miss that.