Royal Wedding Page 4

  “Alanna, I’m so sorry,” André interrupted. “We didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t think—”

  “Obviously!” She wiped an angry tear from her cheek. Then looked away. The sky outside was blue, barely any clouds. Which she resented. “Leave.”

  “Please,” Gemma straightened her shoulders. “We didn’t do this to hurt you. You know that.”

  “I need to be alone. I’m too angry to discuss this.”

  Her sister-in-law pursed her lips, and nodded.

  They both stood, and bowed.

  More royal protocol, but right now, Alanna felt anything but regal.

  “Do you want me to send up Flynn?” André waited by the door.

  “He’s not here,” she answered, still looking out the window. “He’s in Australia for the weekend. But I don’t think even he could calm me from this.” She finally met his gaze. “I love you…but you have these selfish streaks I still don’t understand.”

  His frown turned into a scowl. “Spontaneous romanticism is not selfish. Perhaps you should try it sometime.”

  She glared. “I don’t have that luxury. Some of us have a full time job to do.”

  Chapter EIGHT

  Gemma

  The tree frogs chirped their melody with the orchestra of wild birds on her walk of guilt down to the Royal Stables.

  The meeting with Alanna had been a disaster, and remorse took its toll on Gemma’s conscience. She didn’t regret marrying André; on the contrary. They hadn’t considered his sister’s reaction at being absent from the blessed event.

  Which she did regret.

  So much for the throes of romance. They needed to make amends. Alanna deserved a major recompense, a sacrifice of some kind. Maybe a public reception, as grand as she’d envisioned. Anxiety attacks be damned.

  The familiar scent of fresh hay and horse feed filled the air the closer she came to the stables.

  Where another extremely uncomfortable conversation awaited her.

  With Rico.

  The barns weren’t as busy as a normal Friday. Some folks must be out sick or on vacation. Her feet shuffled along the wood planks toward the manager’s office.

  Rico could be out in the paddock training a horse, or a dozen other places as part of his job. One he loved.

  She’d never seen anyone handle a yearling better than him.

  Gemma rounded the corner of another wide hallway lined with feed and other tack supplies. Through the opened door at the end, she spotted Rico brushing a painted mare.

  When he looked up and scowled, she sighed.

  He knew what was coming.

  “You’re not split up, I see,” he announced.

  “Nope.” She strolled closer, keeping her hands in her jeans pockets. “Which means you know why I’m here.”

  “Yes. You lied to me. Have you come to apologize?”

  She scoffed. “Quite the opposite. Do you have any idea how big the shit storm is from you? You’re the leak. My best friend.”

  His glare was hard to identify. Anger, blame, guilt…resentment.

  That’s what it is.

  He resented something.

  “You’ve never lied to me before,” he said. “How can I trust anything you say?”

  “Oh, that’s rich. I’m the liar? Since when are you one for gossip, let alone spreading it? What is going through your head?” Gemma demanded.

  “I don’t know you anymore.”

  “But I know you. There’s another side to this story I haven’t heard. With you, there’s always a reason. So, out with it.”

  Rico shook his head, and continued brushing the horse’s mane. “Are you going to be beat it out of me if I don’t?”

  “Why not? We haven’t had a decent sparring session in almost a year.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’d say you deserve one right now.”

  “You don’t think I feel bad enough already?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

  “Que te den…siempre peleando.”

  She pursed her lips. “Grow up. You screwed up, just own it. Tell me what happened.”

  His brush strokes turned angrier, and the horse nipped at him for being too rough. He finally gave up, and tossed the brush in the bucket, and guided the mare back into her stall.

  When he closed the latch, he stood there, staring at his hands. Finally, after a long moment, he sighed. “Esta chica…”

  Gemma fought hard to keep from rolling her eyes.

  A woman.

  How many times had that been a man’s excuse for stupidity?

  “Go on.”

  Rico turned, and kicked at the floor. “Luciana. I’ve been seeing her a few months. She’s the stable manager’s daughter. He brings her in with him a lot, to work with the horses, and…” He shrugged. “We bonded. One night we were…having fun.” His cheeks reddened. “And it just came out. Como se dice….pillow talk. But I swore her to secrecy, and had no idea she was sharing them.”

  Gemma bit the inside of her cheek. Rico wasn’t the first man to spill information during intimate playtime.

  It was unusual for him, but not for men in general. She’d seen Luciana several times the last year. She was a sweet girl, and worked hard. The Solanian nineteen-year-old was a beauty.

  She and Rico must have hidden their romance well, because Gemma had never noticed their connection. “You’re telling me Luciana is the one feeding this to the press?”

  Rico shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t do that. But she did tell someone…”

  “Who?”

  He shook his head harder. “I won’t say.”

  “You have to tell me. This is a matter of royal—”

  “No soy una rata.”

  She seethed. “Either you tell me, or I’ll force it out of Luciana. And she’ll know it was you who gave her up.”

  “Ya valí madre.”

  Gemma shrugged. “Yep, you’re completely screwed either way.”

  Rico crossed his arms, and gave her a serious look. “Nothing happens to her. She’s a good girl.”

  “I can’t guarantee that, until I know who she spilled to.”

  “Her father.”

  “How do you know?”

  “When the rumor showed up on the news, I went to her. Angry, she betrayed me.”

  I know the feeling.

  “She said her father coaxed it out of her,” her old friend continued. “He’s been accepting money for royal gossip. Some journalist who has something over his head.”

  “You mean blackmailing him?”

  “Si. But instead of money, she wants information on the royal family.”

  “Well, shit.” Gemma glanced around the stables. André told her everyone who worked for them was more than handsomely paid, and all signed non-disclosure agreements. Including those who handled the royal horses. “I bet she keeps paying him only so it’s not completely illegal. What does this journalist have on him?”

  “No se.”

  She stepped closer, slowly.

  Rico squared his shoulders, as if ready for an onslaught.

  “Do you think I’ve been ignoring you? Do you resent me being here? Is that why you told her, you were venting?”

  He blinked. His mouth fell open, until he recovered his shock. “I do not resent you. I’m very happy for you and André.” He half-winced. “Prince André. Lo siento.” Nearly a year on Solana, and they both still had a hard time referring to André by his royal title. “You’ve had much on your mind. But I’m relieved to see that you have taken Reyna’s word to heart.”

  “In what way?”

  He gently raised her knuckles. Sunlight glinted off the band around her fingers, and grinned. “May you have all the happiness in the world. You’ve more than earned it. I only wish I could’ve been there.”

  Gemma frowned. “It was last minute. But I am happy. And we’re going to have a reception where everyone is invited. Including my best friend.”

  Rico gestured to
his chest, his half-smile the same as she remembered on the ranch. He only needed his cowboy hat. “Am I still your friend?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “What’s going to happen to Luciana?”

  She sighed. “That’s up to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you love her?”

  He scraped the back of his neck, his frown lopsided. “I don’t know. I think so.”

  “Does she love you? Or is she only seeing you to get info on us, at her father’s orders?”

  He swallowed hard. “She loves me. I’m sure.”

  “Then you should tell her.” Gemma slapped him on the shoulder. “I need to go.” Without another word, she turned and started to walk off.

  “Are you still mad at me?”

  “Of course I am,” she threw over her shoulder. “We’re family.”

  “And you’re married now.”

  She stopped, and turned. “So?”

  His knowing smile always carried an ambush with it. “You’re a princess. You cannot box me up side my head anymore.”

  She smirked. “Wanna bet?”

  “A princess should be more ladylike.”

  Gemma scoffed, and couldn’t help herself. She stuck out her tongue at him.

  Chapter NINE

  Alanna

  Luciana Nauta curtsied before she turned and left the throne room.

  André and Gemma stood next to Alanna, careful to keep their expression neutral during the exchange.

  The brunette beauty was so young and hopeful, and sadly naive. Not to mention hopelessly in love with Rico Valéncia. That much was clear.

  She sighed when the royal guardsmen closed the doors behind the young woman. “I don’t think we’ll have any further issues from her, but we’ll keep an eye on her. Can’t say the same for her father.”

  Gemma scowled. “Gambling debts. For one as well paid as he was, it wasn’t enough.”

  André kissed her hand. “It’s an addiction, love. One I can relate to. But, one we can’t help him with. It’s a disgrace that the journalist used his weakness to advance her career. Such an unsavory method.”

  “Indeed.” She stood and paced through the room. Alanna desperately missed Flynn. His rational mind would certainly help at a time like this.

  Especially with the ass-chewing she was going to give that journalist’s boss.

  That woman’s career would be ripped to shreds by the time the Queen of Solana was finished. There was enough evidence to report to the prosecutor’s office as well.

  “What about Rico?” Gemma smoothed her steel blue blouse, with lace overlay.

  Alanna smiled inwardly at the blonde’s fashion choices, when she was pliable enough to be coerced out of her cowboy boots and jeans. Her sister-in-law had impeccable taste when she wanted. More commendable was her loyalty—to André, family, and her friends. Specifically, Rico.

  “He’ll remain on where he is,” she finally replied. “They weren’t the real culprits here. But we’ll have the same eyes on him as Luciana. I think they both just needed a firm reminder of the prudence required of their roles here. They just need to exercise better judgment. So, we’ll give them that opportunity.”

  Gemma sighed, a sliver of relief relaxing the wrinkles on her forehead.

  Alanna gave a sympathetic smile.

  Her brother’s wife was worried about her best friend, clearly.

  The dutiful man had nowhere else to go. An illegal immigrant in the United States with no family left in Colombia, Solana was the only place left with anyone Rico knew.

  Not to mention, the kid had a great heart, and held an incomparable work ethic. The last thing Solana needed was to remove highly useful people in their time of rebuilding.

  “Before we bring in his father,” André started. “I owe you an apology.”

  Alanna took a deep breath, and sat on the throne cushion, royal blue with silver fringe. Not as comfortable as a throne should be, and her butt went numb whenever she spent more than ten minutes in this thing.

  The amepphires and diamonds on the silver furniture made a statement of grandeur. The same seat in which her father sat.

  She stared at the gold floral threading on the light-blue rug extending out from the marble steps below the throne. The work was exquisite. And a century old. “I don’t need an apology,” she finally answered. “It’s not fair of me to criticize you, when Flynn and I were hoping to arrange a private ceremony ourselves, for the exact same reason.” She shifted her gaze to Gemma. “That would make me a hypocrite.”

  “We should’ve at least given you a heads up, so you could attend if you wanted to.” Her new sister-in-law moved closer, an apologetic frown revealing a subtle movement in her jaw. She chewed gum, and from the faint smell of it, spearmint. A break in the rules when in the throne room.

  Alanna held back her admonition. And a smile. She really wanted some, too. “Well, I’ll make this clear right now. Whatever kind of ceremony Flynn and I have, you are both required to attend. You don’t get a choice.” She smirked.

  “Understood,” André answered. “What if we have a reception here in a few months? Celebrate as grandly as you want, invite as many you deem necessary. That way we don’t deprive you of a good excuse to dance.”

  She bit her lip as she smiled. She loved dancing. Her childhood lessons never went to waste, and she’d often ignored her father’s orders and stayed up well past her curfew, just to dance with the endless guests at the receptions the former king and queen threw.

  “I can tell that intrigues you enough to forgive me.” Her brother chuckled, and extended his hand.

  “Deal.” Alanna shook it firmly, and allowed André to kiss her knuckles. She did the same to his.

  The gesture they’d shared when she was a little girl. Before his eventual downfall and exile. Whatever faults they both had, they were family. Blood.

  Stefano moved into the throne room, and cleared his throat. “Shall I send in Señor Nauta?

  She straightened on her cushion, and André moved to the bottom of the steps, beside Gemma. Their proper positions when addressing Solanian citizens. No chairs for guests, unfortunately. In this sacred room, no one sat in front the queen.

  “Send him in.”

  Under his breath, but easily heard from her perch, André muttered, “Might as well be walking the plank.”

  Chapter TEN

  Flynn

  “Don’t you touch anotha’ room in my house!” Magnus Flynn barked.

  The younger Flynn scraped his hand down his face. Two days into his trip to visit his parents, and he desperately wanted to jump on the next flight back to Solana.

  “I’ll touch whatever room I want! It’s my house now, too,” his mother hollered from the kitchen. Unlike his dad, a native Australian, his mother was all American.

  Flynn’s father growled, and leaned back in his chair in the dining room. “She’s slowly movin’ through the whole house, changin’ everythin’. Every time I return from a business trip, she’s screwed up anotha’ room.”

  “I hardly think reupholstering the couches and changing out the coffee table qualifies as ‘screwing up’ the living room.” He actually liked the new, taupe fabric. The darker brown his father had had before was ragged and nearly unusable.

  Magnus glared at his son with dark green eyes. “They are my sofas.”

  “Our sofas,” Hannah corrected, returning from the kitchen with a casserole dish full of Flynn’s favorite meal, lasagna. “You gave up your right to call them yours when I moved in.”

  Their banter continued, and he drowned them out by diving into his first bite. Sweet and savory tomato sauce with extra cheese. The same comfort food his mother had made when he was a child after a rough day.

  His mother nudged him. “Back me up here.”

  “What?”

  She rolled her hazel eyes, and brushed her honey-colored hair off her face. “You are so much like him.”

  “You can hardly
blame me for wanting to tune out your bickering. Nothing’s changed.”

  His mother chuckled. “A lot has changed. Bickering is what we do best.” She winked at her husband. “Your father’s an acquired taste, one I’ve become addicted to, once I remembered why I got hooked on him in the first place.”

  Magnus grumbled, but couldn’t hide a smirk.

  Not even from Flynn, who normally couldn’t interpret people’s expressions.

  “You’ll pay for tha’ one lata’.”

  “You’re damn right.” A small pink tinge colored her cheeks, and she hid a smile behind her napkin.

  This has to be a sexual thing.

  Flynn pushed back his plate. “Can you reserve those comments for the times I’m not here?”

  His dad downed the rest of his red wine, and cleared his throat. “So, the Queen Consort, yeah?” A glint caught his eye. “Tha’s exciting, i’n’t it?” His Australian accent always thickened when he was drinking. Otherwise, he was a very well-spoken man, enunciated everything, especially in front of clients.

  “To the world, yeah.” Flynn took a few more bites. “But to me, I’ll be Alanna’s husband. That’s the only part I care about.”

  Hannah lovingly rubbed his arm, her proud smile making his heart warm. “You’ll be a fabulous husband.”

  “You think you’ll still be able to be yach’ captain as the queen’s consort? At leas’ once in a while.”

  He shrugged. “I’m running a new sailing school for kids, so I’ll captain a lot of the boats that way. But, if you mean do sea trials and deliveries for your yacht brokerage, definitely not.”

  His father scowled. “Well, I guess there’s a trade-off. You can’t have an official job, but you get to meet world leaders and influential people, and see incredible places.”

  “You know that’s not what I’m in this for.”

  “Of course, son. That’s no’ what I mean’.” He took a giant bite of lasagna. “But it’s still amazin’. I never woulda imagined a sea trial endin’ with an international chase, and drawin’ the eye of a bonafide queen.”