Linda Needham (26 page)

But she had given her word not to disturb the status quo. She certainly didn’t want to be responsible for threatening the already shaky political landscape of Europe. Or the ancient and powerful families that ruled the world; Romanovs and Hanovers, Habsburgs and Saxe-Coburgs.

And yet it occurred to her that an empress could bloody well do anything, decree anything that she thought would benefit her kingdom.

Anything at all.

In fact, it was her duty to serve her people with the truest intentions of her heart.

The truest intentions.

Dear Lord in heaven! The answer had been staring her in the face for days.

Her heart in her throat, Caro straightened her shoulders and started down the aisle between her beaming subjects, certain that they would be ready for her announcement. Hoping so.

She knelt in front of the archbishop, who was smiling down on her in his divine benevolence.

He called the congregation to pray for the princess, for God to give her wisdom and long life, compassion and faith, justice and truth.

Yes, this was the right and good thing to do, she could feel it deep in her soul.

“Princess Caroline Marguerite Marie Isabella, empress-elect of Boratania…”

The archbishop chanted, celebrated communion and blessed all the days of her reign. He crowned her and draped her shoulders in her new royal cape, handed her the beautiful scepter, kissed her forehead—

And then he declared that she was now “Empress Caroline of Boratania.”

There, Drew, I have claimed the title as was my duty, she thought, as she turned toward the congregation and her subjects, who were bursting with pride.

As she caught Drew’s eye, he touched his fingers to his mouth, bowed slightly, gracious to the end, and then turned on his heel and strode out of the chapel and into the sunlight, taking her heart with him.

And now it was time to make her first decree as Empress of Boratania.

She turned to Queen Victoria and Albert who were sitting in the royal box, beaming at her. So kindly, so unsuspecting.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for giving me aid and comfort for all these years. Boratania thanks you as well, and will remain your faithful friend.”

She felt taller as she spoke, somehow grander for her new title, her voice filling the nave with the brief acceptance speech she had planned, her heart pounding in anticipation of the impromptu addition that was sure to send shock waves ricocheting through the halls of Europe.

She looked down at her once-exiled subjects. Tears of joy were streaming down their cheeks, matching her own.

I do this for you, gentlemen, my friends.

For your children and grandchildren.

For justice and liberty.

For your dear Boratania.

“As you all know, my dear ladies and gentlemen, Your Majesties, the kingdom of Boratania was abandoned in its time of greatest need, an evil time of great upheaval in the world. Ancient alliances torn
asunder, iniquitous wars and revolutions, despots and sycophants.”

Everyone exchanged sober nods, having heard the tales or remembering the evil for themselves.

“But these are brighter, more hopeful times, as our Prince Albert’s Great Exhibition has shown us so splendidly.”

A roar of approval and applause for the prince rose up into the vaulting. He whispered something to the queen, then they both nodded, clearly pleased.

Caro continued, her palms sweating, her heart beating so loudly she could barely hear herself speak. “Boratania has been reborn in an age of progress and industry, of educational reform and enlightenment.” Her mouth dried up, but she wet her lips and filled up her resolve with the sight of her subjects’ eager faces.

The new citizens of Boratania.

“An enlightenment that has exposed to the world an inalienable truth. As Thomas Jefferson declared in the document which severed the ties between Britain and her American colonies nearly a century ago, governments derive their powers by the consent of the governed.”

The effect of these revolutionary words seemed to roll down the aisles like a shimmering wave. Murmurs of ‘derive their powers’ and ‘the governed’ and the polite clearing of throats.

“I, too, believe in the capacity of the people to govern themselves with wisdom and resolve. That when planted in fair and fertile soil, the seeds of self-determination will sprout and flourish.”

Now the utter silence in the chapel was deafening. Faces of pale stone looked back at her from the pews.

“To that end, and by immutable royal decree, the government of Boratania will consist of a prime minister and a parliament, elected by a free and equal vote of all the people.”

That seemed to relax the congregation somewhat; Europe was rife with parliaments and prime ministers.

“Until such elections can be realized and a constitution is lawfully established, the government of Boratania will be administered by a commission of six loyal citizens, whom I herewith name.” Caro looked down at the good and wise men who had encouraged her, who loved Boratania with an unshakable faith in its future.

Whose claims to the land had endured for centuries and were as deeply rooted as the mountains.

“Wilhelm Belvedere,” she began, and then, “Gunnar Hartenfels, Johannes Halstedt, Karl Brendel”—each man’s eyes flew wide as she called his name—“Erasmus Uechersbach, Marcus Oderwald. Gentlemen, if you’ll join me up here.”

They stammered and stalled as she beckoned, but took the steps and clumped around her when she reached out her hand to them.

“My lords, my ladies,” she said, tears swimming in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks, “you see here before you men of great wisdom and courage. They have sworn their abiding allegiance to me, and as such, to Boratania. I have, therefore, rendered myself unnecessary.”

A rumble began to grow in the congregation and around her on the dais.

“Unnecessary? What do you mean, Empress Caroline?” Wilhelm whispered behind her.

“As empress of this magnificent kingdom, whose
legacy will thrive in their care, my first and final decree shall be…the abolishment of the Boratanian monarchy.”

A huge gasp rose up from the crowd, spilled over into the aisles and rang against the stained-glass windows.

Shoring up her courage for the inescapable consequences, Caro took a deep breath, then reached up and grasped the rim of the crown so recently placed upon her head.

Another gasp, more cries of shock and scandal.

The gold was thick and warm, the precious stones cool against the pads of her fingers. A priceless, weighty thing that now belonged to the citizens of Boratania.

She tugged and the crown came off easily.

“It’s done,” she whispered to herself.

And nothing she had done in her life had ever felt so good, or so very right.

“I
’ve left a pot of hot water for your bath boiling on the stove, my lord. Will that be all for the evening?”

Drew looked up from his dry report, bleary-eyed and slightly surprised to find that his housekeeper hadn’t yet left for her home in the village; she had five sons and a husband to feed, fishermen all.

“Ah, yes, of course, Mrs. Peterson.” He stood up from the desk chair, his back stiff from inactivity. “Supper was excellent, as usual.”

“And there’s more on the hob if you should find yourself peckish come midnight.” She tied a scarf around her head and hefted her netted satchel over her shoulder as he followed her to the door. “If you should need anything, sir, you know where to find me.”

A quarter mile down the lane, on the edge of the village. “I do. Thank you. My best to your family.”

Drew opened the cottage door for the woman and watched until she became a silhouette moving against
the steely sea and the storm clouds that had been riding the horizon all day, waiting for something.

He stood in the doorway for a time, looking out on the empty cliffs, the empty sky.

He’d been hoping for a bit of peace in this lonely place. But he’d had no real peace at all in the last two days. And nights. She followed him everywhere.

The fairy-tale empress who had blithely drifted into his life, changed him utterly and then drifted out again.

The wind came up suddenly and blew a clatter of leaves past his boots and into the small entry.

He shut the door against the coming storm and poured himself a bath. He read the two-days-old
Times
while he soaked until the water grew cold.

He dressed in a loose-fitted work shirt and a pair of trousers, threw on a robe, then scooted his chair up to the blazing hearth and settled in for another night of trying to concentrate on Jared’s coastal defense reports while being chased by the wily Empress who had ripped his heart out of his chest—

Rap, rap, rap!

“What the devil?” What sort of bloody fool would be out at night in weather like this?

Rap, rap, rap, rap!

He tied his robe at the waist and went to the door, bracing his shoulder against the panel as he opened it against the storm.

“What is it?” he shouted into the salty wet wind.

Something weighty hit the middle of the door, shoved and shuddered against him, and then let up while more leaves blew in past his legs.

“Damn ruffians!” Drew slammed the door shut,
locked it and then leaned back against the thick oak panel to survey the mess.

Leaves and bits of twigs had scattered themselves all over the damp floor. Mrs. Peterson wouldn’t be happy.

He grabbed up a handful of leaves and took them back with him to the parlor and the hearth flames. Back to the—

“Good Christ!”

Someone…some
creature
had made itself at home in front of his fire. A figure small and quaking, and now hunched over to catch the heat inside its large cloak.

“Who the hell are you?” He was about to pounce on the bizarre figure when it made a sound that caught him in the middle of his heart.

“DREwwwwwww!”

“Caro?” He was on her in a breath, lifting the hood of her sodden cloak, his heart slamming inside his chest.

“C–c–cold.” She looked up at him, her eyelashes starred with rain, her teeth rattling madly. “Sooo wwwet.”

“Bloody hell, woman, what are you doing here?” Not waiting for an answer, he stripped off her cloak and wrapped her head to toe in the thick blanket from the back of his chair, then sat on a hearth stool and pulled her onto his lap, inside his embrace.

“W–w–warmer n–n–ow.”

“You’re not.” She was shivering uncontrollably. And miles from where she ought to be. “What were you thinking, Caro?”

“Y–y–you.”

“Christ, what have you done?” They must be looking for her everywhere. Had she changed her mind and run away from her duties? No, he’d seen the archbishop place the crown of Boratania on her head. She wouldn’t run.

Not that it mattered at the moment, with her suffering so with the cold. Terrified that she might become ill, he wrapped her more tightly in the blanket and slid his fingers through her wet hair to warm her nape, tilted her chin to him.

“How did you get here; walk from London?”

She managed to shake her head. “T–t–train.”

Good Lord! “You didn’t walk here from the station at Exeter?”

More shaking of her head, less trembling. “C–c–c–carriage ride.”

“You got yourself this wet, walking here from the village?”

“Lost.” She sniffled and closed her eyes, tucking her head beneath his chin, snuggled more deeply into his arms, quieted with a long sigh. “Thank y–y–you.”

“Bloody hell.” Now what? He was holding an escaped empress in his arms. One who was doubtless being sought by every authority in the kingdom. For all he knew, the army might storm the cottage any moment.

“Why, love?” he whispered, gazing down at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Had to…find you.”

Hell and damnation! He’d never been so happy to see anyone in his life, and never so bloody angry. He had finished his assignment with her, had set her
aside for the next assignment. He would have forgotten her after a few months, if only…

Now there was a lie. She was completely unforgettable. Everything about her. But at least he’d begun to negotiate his way through the memories of her.

And yet here she was again, ambushing him in the closeness of his own cottage when she ought to be holding court in the great hall of Tovaranche Castle. Drenched and lovely and enfolded in his arms.

Bloody hell, and the sooner he returned her to London the sooner Palmerston would have his runaway empress back.

A hot bath would help warm her up for the return; water was still hot on the stove.

He stood and carried her to his chair, doing his best to keep a professional distance as he pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

“Stay here, Your Highness. I’ll be right back.” He moved the tub into the kitchen near the stove and poured a bath for her. But when he returned to the parlor, she was standing with her back to the fire, huddled under the blanket, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“I d–d–didn’t mean to worry you, Drew.”

“Worry me, madam? You’re an empress now, an international figure. You can’t just leave your duties and come here on a whim—”

“Not a whim, Drew. I came”—she shivered from her head to her knees—“looking for a suitable position.”

“Suitable
what
?” Relieved that her wry humor had returned and that she was looking slightly more pink than blue, Drew lifted her into his arms and carried
her toward the kitchen. “Very funny, Caro. But you have a position: lunatic empress. And as soon as you’re warm, I’m returning you to Palmerston.”

“He knows where I am.”

“He knows? And he approves?” Shocked to the marrow, he stood her on her feet near the stove and peered into her blue-violet eyes.

“I don’t believe he did, n–not really. Not in his heart. But he didn’t have a ch–choice. I’d already decided I couldn’t be…an empress.”

Still stunned from her first declaration, he could only stammer. “What are you…What the hell does that mean, you decided you couldn’t be an empress? People don’t just decide these things.”

She glanced down at the stone floor and then back up at him, clutching the blanket closer around her shivering shoulders. “Well, I…I did. Had to.”

His heart had taken off on its own, thudding wildly in his chest, and he feared the worst. “You took the coronation oath. I heard you myself. So did hundreds of others.”

She smiled flatly, and swiped a strand of wet hair off her cheek. “But you didn’t stay, Drew.”

He couldn’t. “Christ, Caro, what have you done?”

“I…um…” She shivered again, a lingering shudder that ended with her teeth chattering for a moment. “I…abolished the monarchy.”

He couldn’t have heard her correctly. “Abolished?”

She nodded, sniffled. “It means I gave up my crown, my title.”

“Christ on the cross! I know what
abolish
means!” God, the havoc she had set into motion. It would take years of negotiation for him to repair the damage. “Do you know the extent of what you’ve just done?”

“I didn’t make the decision lightly, Drew.” She frowned deeply at him. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”

No, she didn’t. She couldn’t. Well, then, he would fix it as soon as he could make it back to London with her. But right now she was nothing but a trembling bag of sticks. “All right, Caro, into the bath with you.”

“Now,
that
I won’t argue about, Drew.” She dropped the blanket from her shoulders.

He had no trouble keeping a clinical distance as he untied and unhooked and helped her out of everything but her camisole and drawers. He left her to do that chore herself, with an emphatic, “Stay in the water, madam. There’s more heating on the stove.”

He shut the kitchen door before she could answer, and while he still had his senses.

Because as cold as she was, with her skin goosed and pale, her hair hanging in straggling tendrils, she was still stunningly beautiful.

And wearing the skimpiest silk camisole, her nipples like fine little beacons for his hands, his mouth.

“Bloody hell.” He leaned back against the closed kitchen door.

“Ohhhhhh, it’s wonderful, Drew.” She sighed, a sultry little mew. “You’re wonderful.”

“No, madam, I am disappointed. Now, soak!” Still stunned at the woman’s foolishness, Drew went back to the parlor and hung her wet clothes on a drying rack in front of the hearth.

He tried to read his damn report, but soon found himself pacing in front of the fire, running through all the scenarios that might restore Caro to her rightful throne.

And Europe to its natural order.

He shouted, “Cover yourself, madam,” before he burst into the kitchen to pour more warm water into the tub, leaving her a large towel and managing to avert his eyes.

Thirty minutes later, she stepped from the kitchen wrapped in the towel, from her knees to where she’d tucked it under her arms. She was a healthy pink again.

Too healthy.

Now, all he had to do was to remain unyielding and unsympathetic, rather than stand there stammering something about how bewitching she looked, how he wanted to explore his way through that golden curtain of hair, how all he really wanted to do was to forget who she was and claim her for his own.

To make endless love with her for the rest of their days.

“Now, into your clothes, Empress. Where’s your bag?”

“I’m not an Empress, Drew, and I haven’t any clothes.” She scooted past him to the hearth, where she turned her back to the heat.

“You came all the way from London without a change of clothes?”

She nodded toward the window. “My satchel went over the edge of the cliff.”

“Over the edge?” His stomach lurched. “How? What the devil were you doing out there?”

“I told you I got lost between the village and here. It was awfully windy and I couldn’t see a thing in front of me. I kept getting blown toward the edge.”

Bloody hell, the woman would never be safe.

“Then wait here, Caro.” Drew returned to the parlor with one of his nightshirts, then slipped off his robe and handed it to her as well. “Get into these. I’ll bring up some more firewood.”

Before I lose myself in you, madam.

Drew stomped down the stairs into the cellar, muttering to himself as he loaded his arms with pieces of wood, then stomped back up the stairs to give warning that he was returning.

“Are you decent, madam?” he shouted from the stairwell.

“Yes, come, Drew.” Her voice was a sweet melody, drawing him the rest of the way up the stairs.

He made the parlor in time to see her slipping into his robe. His nightshirt draped nearly to the floor, her feet poking out from under its hem. Her hair was already drying, shimmering waves of gold, a bit wild about the ends.

The Empress Caroline in all her royal finery.

“You left, dammit! After all we talked about.”

She shrugged, making the robe slide off one of her shoulders. “It was the best thing, Drew.”

“When did you do this?” He thunked a log onto the woodpile.

“At the ceremony, by decree. Oh, let me do that.” She grabbed the next piece of wood out of his arms and added it to the stack beside the hearth.

“Bloody hell, you abolished the monarchy in front of the crowned heads of Europe?”

“In front of Queen Victoria and everyone.” Off came another log; this time she placed it in the flames. “I had to do it that way.”

“Dammit, Caro. How the devil am I going to fix this?”

“It doesn’t need fixing, Drew. I hope it can’t be.” She finished stacking the wood and brushed off his sleeves. “I’ve taken care of everything. Tied up all the loose ends—”

“Leaving Boratania to swing in the wind! Without you as their empress, Caro, without an ordained leader, you’ve thrown your kingdom to the wolves.”

“Boratania doesn’t need me anymore, Drew.” She found a broom leaning in the corner and started sweeping up the wood chips they had just scattered on the floor. “I made sure of that.”

“Madam, Boratania needs you now, more than ever.” He followed her, catching a bristle across his shoe as she swept toward the front door.

She stopped, her palm over the end of the broom. “I didn’t leave Boratania without a leader, Drew, I left it to the people it belongs to.”

“To the people?” What the devil was she talking about?

“It was really quite simple. I merely declared a parliamentary government, appointed Wilhelm and the others to create a constitution”—she took a breath, then smiled brightly at him—“and then, by royal decree, I abolished the monarchy.”

“Just like that?”

“Exactly like that.” She went back to her sweeping, collecting the leaves that had chased her into the house when she entered.

“And then what, madam?” He caught her by the shoulder, and the robe drooped. “The queen just sat there, said nothing?”

She seemed to cast back in time, her eyes wistful and content. “They all just sat there once I had made my royal decree. After that, well, then all hell broke loose.”