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“I don’t know,” Toby said. “To tell us Victoria’s innermost secrets, I guess. Her fantasy wishes.” She pulled her dress on over her head and looked in the mirror to start applying makeup.
“That should go over well,” he said sarcastically. “You wouldn’t have a shoehorn, would you?”
“Bedside table,” she said. “Maybe we should be more subtle and lead up to what we want to ask. My worry is that he won’t want an inexperienced person like me overseeing his wedding.”
Graydon pushed the bathroom door all the way open as he began to button his shirt. She was applying mascara. “What do you know about this Dr. Huntley?”
“Not much. I didn’t even know he and Victoria were serious about each other until Alix’s wedding. There they were, holding hands and looking at each other with big cow eyes. It was a shock to me. My hair is a mess! I’m going to have to take it down and rebraid it.” She was referring to the strands that were hanging down the sides of her face.
“Here, let me,” he said and took her hairbrush from her. Gently, he began to smooth the strands back.
All Toby could do was stand there and watch him in the mirror. This, she thought, this simple but incredibly intimate act of a man brushing her hair, was the kind of thing she’d always imagined as marriage. She’d never wanted the frantic tussles in the back of a car that girls giggled about. When she was growing up, a man brushing her hair was the kind of thing she’d dreamed about. Graydon had his head down, his eyes on her hair, and she thought how much she’d like to turn and slip her arms around his neck and kiss him.
She made herself look away. He’s not yours, she told herself. He isn’t; he can’t be. Besides, in the last week she’d seen how he ignored anything that could lead to any physicality between them. There’d been a couple of times when she’d turned toward him in the hopes that he’d kiss her, but he’d always moved away. She’d been pursued by boys since she was fifteen years old and to suddenly have a man step away when she got too close hurt. Actually, it was crushing her ego.
When she looked back up at Graydon she was smiling, determined to not let him see that she wanted more than he was willing to give.
Graydon looked at her in the mirror. “Better?”
“Perfect, and thank you,” she said, then slipped away from him to go back into the bedroom. She pulled a little heart locket necklace out of her jewelry box and started to put it on.
Graydon brushed her hands away and fastened it around her neck. “A gift?”
“From my father for my sixteenth birthday.” For a moment they both looked into the mirror, and again Toby wanted to turn to him.
As always, Graydon stepped away. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll meet you downstairs.” He went back to his own bedroom, closed the door, and leaned against it. What the hell was he doing?! When he saw Toby in her undressed state he should have left the room but he couldn’t make himself do it. A lifetime of discipline seemed to disappear in a moment. He was so aroused at the sight of her seminude state that he’d been tempted to fling her onto the bed and tear off her clothing. But then what? Tomorrow he’d fly away and never see her again? Maybe she’d recover from a one-night stand, but he wasn’t sure he would. He’d be condemned to a lifetime of living with another woman, while Toby …
He closed his eyes. He had to go home. Next week a couple of ambassadors were visiting Lanconia and Rory knew nothing about them. It wouldn’t take long for the exchange of twins to be found out. Graydon could see the headlines now. “Royal Twins Fool the World.” Lanconia would be an international joke. It would go down in Lanconian history books, and a hundred years from now schoolchildren would laugh about it. Would Toby’s photo be beside Graydon’s? Worse, would the textbooks tell how Graydon’s scheme had brought down the Lanconian throne?
He knew he had to return home, but the idea of leaving tomorrow made his heart ache. It took a lot of work on his part to get himself fully under control before he could go downstairs.
Toby was waiting for him, looking very pretty in her pink and white striped dress and her little sandals. “We can walk to Dr. Huntley’s office,” she said, then looked at him. “Are you all right? You look like something has upset you.”
“No, nothing,” Graydon said curtly.
Toby knew he was yet again, as always, not confiding in her. When he opened the front door, they both came to a halt. Standing there were two magnificent-looking people, a man and a woman. “Your Royal Highness,” they said as they bowed to Graydon.
When Toby looked at him, he wore the expression of a man whose life had just come to an end.
He opened the door wider to let them in.
Less than an hour after the accident in Lanconia, Lorcan and Daire got on a private jet to New York. At JFK airport they’d been hurriedly escorted to a small jet that took them to Nantucket. Daire was concerned about Lorcan’s injuries, but he’d not directly asked her about them. For one thing, there were too many people around them and too much secrecy involved for either of them to speak freely. And besides, Lorcan wouldn’t have liked his implication that a few bruises had lessened her abilities as a royal bodyguard. Prince Graydon needed her, so she would be there.
It was Daire, who was always at ease with people, who chatted about the weather and thanked them for their help.
As for Lorcan, she was mostly silent during the long journey halfway around the world. Very tall, with her long black hair slicked into a ponytail that reached halfway down her back, she was a woman who caused heads to turn. But she didn’t respond to any of the glances. Even though it was her first trip out of Lanconia, she didn’t let her eyes stray from Daire. She followed him through airports and did what he told her was needed. When she winced in pain, he saw it, and his eyes asked if she was all right. She didn’t speak, just gave a curt nod.
Daire had to turn away to hide his smile of pride. He had taught her well.
When they got to the Nantucket airport, they waited for the wide doors to open and their crates and trunks to be put onto the ramp. Against Lorcan’s protest, Daire dealt with the bulk of it. They had brought what was needed to stay in contact with Lanconia, as well as training equipment and personal items. When it was all collected, they put it into a rented car.
It wasn’t until they were inside the vehicle that Lorcan felt she could speak. “What do you think she’s like?” she asked as Daire drove out of the airport.
He didn’t have to be told who she meant: the woman who had caused so much trouble with
Prince Graydon. “He doesn’t have a type. If it were Rory, it would be easy to say. Tall, blonde, beautiful, and willing to follow him into any dangerous situation he wants to blindly run into. But Gray …”
Daire was a royal cousin, sixth in line for the throne, so he could call Prince Graydon by his given name. But Lorcan was not of their class. She was a descendent of the Zerna tribe, orphaned young and taken in by her elderly grandparents, who were very happy when, at the age of twelve, she won a palace scholarship. From then on, she’d been fed, clothed, educated, and above all trained at government expense. Martial arts, boxing, swordplay, weaponry of all sorts were mastered by her. When she graduated in the top five of her class, she was hired by the royal family. Three years ago, after her quick thinking and decisive action had saved the life of a royal cousin, she was assigned to Prince Graydon.
