Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1 (26 page)

And more to the point…

“Why are they here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Stefan’s in a lather over it—as much of a lather as he ever gets.”

Kristos frowned. “Why?”

“Adds to the complexity of the story, he says. If the four American women were guests of the Crown, featured at the ball, and then whisked off to the American embassy with souvenirs and well wishes, the story dies. Put them at an event that is closed to the media, where they don’t speak the language. Well, most of them don’t. The party girl does, of course, though your parents are acting like she doesn’t, which is also interesting.”

“Party girl?” Kristos knew he meant Lauren, but—

“Hot blonde, bad attitude.”

Kristos lifted a brow. “It sounds like you’ve gotten to know each other.”

“She wouldn’t be that lucky. I’ve endured enough of her in one experience to last a lifetime.”

“Yes, she didn’t seem too impressed when she met you on the beach, if I remember correctly.”

“Which is further evidence that she’s a little slow. But she apparently has a fondness for
tsipouro
. She attempted a drinking game with it the night before you met your Emmaline.” Dimitri narrowed his eyes and cast another look at the front of the room. “That makes her a fool. She could easily have come to harm, and it’s not as if her friends would have known how to help her, with her the only one who can speak the language.”

Kristos snorted. “I’m sure she would be very open to hearing your opinions on how she should conduct herself.” He grimaced, his gaze finding Emmaline. “I’m inclined to agree with Stefan, however. Why present the women as part of tonight’s gathering? At best, it muddies the water. At worst…”

His gaze was drawn inexorably to his mother, who wasn’t looking his way at all but at a young woman Kristos remembered from his stacks of pictures. Catherine’s intent regard was telling, and he could see the reactions in the girl herself as well as the women surrounding her, young and old alike. She was being singled out for special attention, and special attention meant favor.

But favor for what?

When he would have winced, Dimitri’s words recalled him.

“Look sharp.” And, as always, the bodyguard was right. His father’s gaze was lifting even as Kristos straightened, and their gazes connected across the room. With a proud smile, King Jasen raised his hand and introduced Kristos loudly, inviting him to stand forward. The entire room stood and applauded, and Kristos bowed his thanks, already uncomfortable with what was required of him, but determined to do the job he’d set out to do.

There were only about twenty long strides that he could take to settle his nerves, but Kristos made the most of them, stopping to shake hands with the men gathered at the back of the room, nodding to Garronois young and old. Then he was up the short steps and embracing his mother and father before turning grimly to address the crowd.
Just get this over with.

In that moment, he met Emmaline’s eyes. She stared at him across the room, her manner taut, expectant, and radiating support. In a single breath, with the wave of her emotion flowing toward him, something shifted inside Kristos. His heart seemed fuller, words that had eluded him in all his tortured practice sessions now coming to his mind effortlessly, demanding to be spoken.

“My friends,” he said with emphasis. “My people, my allies. I am honored to be standing not just in front of you this night, but
with
you.” He continued on, becoming even more assured, more passionate as he saw the spark of his words take light in the eyes of all who heard and understood him.

And even those who didn’t.

Emmaline’s gaze never wavered from his face, and neither did her outpouring of intense, positive focus. He knew she couldn’t translate his words, but he spoke to her just the same.

The speech was an unqualified success.

It was another thirty minutes and four debutantes later before he could safely stop by Emmaline’s chair. Unfortunately, while she did not speak Garronois, everyone at the table knew English. There was no way for him to speak privately with her, and he didn’t trust his reactions even if he could, so he contented himself with bowing. “An unexpected pleasure to see you tonight.”

“Your mother was kind enough to allow us to meet so many of your countrymen,” Emmaline said graciously. “She also loaned us an interpreter so our fellow tablemates could speak at length on their work. I do wish I knew more Garronois, though. It is a lovely language.”

Her words arrowed through him, even as the words of Council Minister Cyril flashed in his memory.
Remember this above all else, Kristos. All eyes are upon you. And it will get worse before it gets better.
He wanted more than anything to take Emmaline in his arms right there, but that was madness. So he turned from her before his own face betrayed any emotion. The two women at the table he also knew—and had for years. His heart sank even as he glanced at the daughter, recognizing the interest lighting her face.

Cyril was right. It all
would
get worse before it got better.

He left Emmaline with another short bow, then rounded the table to do what was expected of him.

Chapter 18

“They’re totally talking about us again, aren’t they?” Emmaline said the words between her teeth, her face practically frozen in place. She’d now cheerfully greeted no fewer than twenty charming older men, their less charming wives, and their positively predatory daughters. “If I hear one more comment about my ‘robust’ American accent, I might snap.”

“Getting watched again,” Lauren said in a light singsong, nodding at the sea of people who ebbed and flowed around them. Em didn’t need to glance toward the head of the room to confirm Lauren’s words.

The queen had been eyeing them like a hawk the whole night, even placing them in the line of attack. At first it had seemed almost cruel, because she and Lauren had been paired off, which had forced Em to stand in the shadow of her more attractive friend—and hear almost firsthand all the sniping, bitter, snide comments the young women thought they were saying in private about her, not realizing Lauren knew the language.

By the third round of princess-bride hopefuls, though, she got it. Got why they were here tonight, got why Lauren’s understanding of the language had gone deliberately unmentioned.

They
were part of the vetting process.

The more badly behaved a woman was, the less likely the queen would look positively on a match between said woman and her son.

A match with Kristos.

Just thinking about that made Em slightly ill. Kristos’s speech had been the one bright moment in this evening. He’d spoken with passion and eloquence, his eyes on her in a way that made her heart soar, for all that she didn’t understand the words. She’d not even paid much attention to the hushed translations of the interpreter, because it was as if Kristos wasn’t talking about the future of Garronia, the lives they all might live, the possibilities that might be explored. It was as if he’d been talking directly to her about
their
future, the lives
they
might live, the possibilities that could be
theirs
.

Which was insane. She knew it was insane.
And yet…

“I think I actually donated that suit to charity last season.” These words were, even more brazenly, spoken in English, though the beautiful woman’s gaze was filled with mock pity as she surveyed Em. “I did think the queen would take better care of you than that.”

“She’s been so gracious at every step, and we’re just delighted to meet you all.”

“
And
she decided to focus her efforts on tomorrow’s gowns.” Lauren delivered this line with the same blithe serenity with which she’d faced every round of women, only turning to Em to hiss their insults after they’d drifted on. But this statement made the bombshell blink.

“Tomorrow? So you
are
attending the Accession Ball?”

“She’s been so kind.” Em fought a sudden surge of triumph as all of the women narrowed their eyes. Lauren had essentially thrown down the gauntlet for a sartorial smackdown at the gala the following night. And at least she knew that Nicki, Lauren, and Fran wouldn’t be wearing anything to poke fun at. As for Em, she’d already had her fill of attention. Whatever the queen saw fit to clothe her in, she planned on remaining out of the limelight, allowing Kristos to do his thing untroubled by her. She’d had enough scowls and sniffs and downright snarls from women who didn’t even know her.

Of course, what if Kristos asked her to remain longer in Garronia, somehow? Would she be able to deal with it then?
Yeah, well…not a problem I’m going to have.

“Ladies.” The queen’s sudden, soothing voice floated over them, chasing Em’s thoughts away. As one they turned, and she saw Kristos standing with his mother, both of them appropriately regal in their formal attire. “You’ve been so gracious to join us. Have you found the evening enjoyable?”

Her words were for them all, but her gaze centered on Em and Lauren—the bait, Em thought grimly, and the hook.

Lauren remained strangely silent, so Em filled in. “It’s been most educational. We have so many stories to share.”

The queen’s eyes glittered with satisfaction. “And I look forward to hearing them all. We’ll be dismissing the families shortly, but I thought I would give you time to escape ahead of the rush. Dimitri will take you to your rooms.” She turned and took a step, signaling to the back of the room.

“Who?” Lauren frowned and glanced to Dimitri, whom Em had never seen look more dashing. “Oh, great,” Lauren muttered. “The knuckle dragger.”

Em’s eyes flashed to Kristos in horror, but his lips were pressed tightly together, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you again,” she said to the queen, and tugged on Lauren’s arm. “We’ll be leaving now.”

They made their final good-byes, but still, it seemed that Kristos would not look directly at her. He hadn’t since his speech, really, his gaze sliding off her face like he couldn’t bear the sight of her anymore for longer than an instant. She told herself he was following decorum, that they’d shared more time together than they should have already, and she needed to accept the reality of their situation. The necessary distance.

Nevertheless, it hurt.

They were halfway down the hall when Lauren poked an unusually surly Dimitri. “How’s your English?” she asked, repeating the question in Garronois.

He frowned at her, offering her a derisive smirk as he shook his head. He turned forward and kept walking, while Em stared.
What is he doing?

“I think pretty much all those women should be kicked to the curb,” Lauren said, loud enough for them all to hear—even Dimitri, though she’d clearly decided he couldn’t understand them. “There was one, maybe two who didn’t enjoy ripping apart Em, all of us, really, but mostly her. Those are going to be the only ones I recommend to the queen.”

Em tried to warn her that the guard could understand them perfectly, but Lauren turned to her. “I’m right, don’t you think? Pink dress and white suit with the gold cuff?”

“The Callas and Gerou families,” Em nodded, recalling the introductions. “If I remember, their families are wine and honey producers, respectively. Their daughters would have worked with their hands, outdoors, at least at some part of their lives. They wouldn’t have had time to develop their evil stepsister skills.”

Dimitri glanced at her as they turned the corner, heading ever deeper into the castle’s inner sanctum, but he offered no comment.

“Well, someone was paying attention,” Lauren teased. “But tomorrow, we might need muscle head here to keep an eye on
you
. I only gave you the barest crib notes of what those girls were saying while we were standing in the belly of the beast. You don’t just have a target on your back, you’ve got about two dozen machine guns aimed at it. They thought they had to beat out each other, but now they can be united against public enemy number one.” She waggled her brows. “You.”

“Yeah, right. I’m leaving in two days. How much of an enemy can I be?”

“There is apparently rampant speculation about what we’ve been doing here at the castle and how inappropriate it is that the prince and royal family has spent so much time on a group of diplomatically unimportant American women. That, of course, led to quite a bit of chatter about how things will change once the new princess-to-be gets installed. I swear it’s ‘Beverly Hills Housewives,’ toga style.”

Ahead of them, Dimitri began coughing, and Lauren shot him an annoyed glance before returning her attention to Em. “We need a plan.”

In the end, of course, the only plan that seemed certain to work was to look fabulous and smile as if they had a secret. Even if they were walking into a ballroom filled with nasty women, what did it matter?

The queen had arrived an hour after the party for her debriefing, and if they’d surprised her with anything they’d heard, she didn’t show it. In fact, she had news of her own for them: their new passports had been approved and should be delivered from the US embassy in Athens within the next few days. After they’d received those, they could leave Garronia at any time. The next stop on their revised itinerary was Tuscany, where they could drown any slights delivered by Garronia’s finest shrews in good food and wine.

And, Em had to admit when she surveyed her friends the next evening, Lauren hadn’t been kidding.

The queen
had
put her greatest effort into outfitting them all for the Accession Ball, and the Americans would definitely be able to hold their own against their exotic counterparts.

Nicki looked like a Greek goddess of war in her toga-inspired sheath, gold glinting at her neck and cuffs—including a bracelet that snaked around her impressively toned bicep. Frannie looked almost regal herself in a mint-green gown that draped her body perfectly and set off her exotic eyes. And Lauren was radiant, her ice-blue Oscar de la Renta gown a shrewd choice both for its chilly beauty and its now-collector’s item status.