Claimed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 3 Page 4

  Right?

  The sound of her name brought her back to the conversation.

  “Nicki will remain on the boat whenever it’s expedient for her to do so. Obviously, in Alaçati that will prove difficult. We may need hotel rooms—adjoining. With her permission, I’ll want a guard inside the doors, not out. No need to draw attention, but I don’t trust a city we haven’t had a chance to properly scout.”

  King Jasen started speaking. “With luck you won’t have much to do in Alaçati proper. From what my understanding is, if Ari survived or didn’t survive on the island, you’ll be able to tell quickly enough. If he took a boat that was actually seaworthy—” a long pause, as if Jasen was trying to collect himself. “He could be anywhere.”

  “Agreed.” Stefan’s words were sharp, crisp, a reassuring counterpoint to the king’s words. King Jasen had never struck her as weak, but perhaps his strength had been tested too much in the long year of steeling himself against the inevitability of his son’s death being proven. Now, with that proof almost at hand, the cracks in his shield were beginning to show.

  Stefan seemed to realize that too. With every statement, he grew in confidence, until the fate of the mission became a foregone conclusion. Nicki stole back from the door and retraced her steps to her chambers, her mind a roil of thoughts. What had made Stefan make such an abrupt turnaround regarding her involvement? And did he really mean those terrible things he’d said about her earlier?

  Of course he had. She grimaced.

  He thought her brash and undisciplined, certainly not one to follow orders, but he was wrong. She’d prove him wrong. She was being given a chance here…and she meant to grab onto it with both hands.

  Stefan was wrong about something else too. His comments about her work as an adventure blogger stung more than she’d ever admit. Yes, it was a job for the young and unattached, and yes, that’s exactly what she was. But she was damned good at her work as a stringer for several adventure magazines and blogs, and her work entertained people all over the world. She was also a good diver, a great windsurfer, and she could certainly be an asset on this journey, however she needed to be.

  She could do it. She would do it.

  The next day passed in a blur of packing and repacking, with more supplies than they’d ever need. By the time they set off for the open water, it was nearly noon. The sun was high in the sky, the whole world bright and full of promise.

  Nicki held onto the railing, staring out to sea. This was happening. She was actually going on a meaningful adventure, using her skills and talents for a purpose. No one was telling her no, no one was warning her off.

  She was a part of the team!

  Within a few minutes, Stefan joined her on the deck, appropriately casual in the same style of loose sweater and trousers she was wearing, suitable for deflecting the wind that picked up as the yacht gained speed.

  “You have everything you need in your state room?” he asked as she turned toward him. At her nod he kept going. “Good. We’ll dock tonight near Alaçati, but not quite at our destination. There’s a scavenger band we need to question on the island. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “That’s where I’ll be diving?” she asked. She’d overheard part of this plan already and waved off Stefan’s lifted brows. “The queen gave me my instructions early. She wanted me to know to—get ready. So I wouldn’t be caught by surprise.”

  “It’s a popular diving location, yes. Whether you get in the water will depend on what we find and how long we stay there,” Stefan said, giving Nicki the distinct impression that he didn’t plan for her to get wet the entire boat ride. The sudden inappropriateness of that expression hit her exactly the wrong way, and she giggled.

  “Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. “But that’s fine. Whatever you think is best.”

  That did make him focus on her, too closely. “Did the queen tell you to say that as well?” he asked, and though the gibe was teasing, she couldn’t stop the blush from climbing her cheeks. Since when did she blush this much around…anyone?

  “No she didn’t,” Nicki said. She’d practiced this part, and it was as good a time as any. “But there is something I think you should—”

  “Ambassador Mihal.” A man in dress uniform strode up, breaking Nicki’s concentration. She blinked as he dropped into rapid Garronois, lulled by the melodic syllables of a language she had no hope of understanding. She’d barely made it through college French—which had the same melody, but that’s as far as it went. Stefan started walking as they talked and she turned back to the railing, not wanting to tag along like a little sister. The boat picked up speed as it reached open water and she found her nerves unwinding a notch as the crashed through the waves, her hair spilling loose from its short ponytail to fly in the wind.

  “Nicki.” Stefan’s voice reached her despite the wind and the roar of the engines, and she turned to see him beckoning her closer. When she reached him, the ship’s captain or whatever had disappeared. In the lee of the protected hallway, it seemed strangely intimate, and Nicki put her hands up self-consciously to her hair.

  When did she start caring about her hair either?

  “We’ll be sailing for several hours, and it occurred to me you probably have not eaten.”

  “Oh—I…no.” Nicki blinked in surprise. She hadn’t thought about something so prosaic as food in the mad rush to get ready. “I’m sure I can find something.”

  “I’ve had something prepared for us. We can continue our discussion.” He turned and gestured her through the doorway. “Third door on the left.”

  Nicki moved down the narrow hallway past formal sitting rooms and paused at the door of a small dining room. Stefan brushed past her smoothly, pushing the door open for her. She entered the elegantly appointed space, feeling completely out of sorts. Her clothes were perfectly right, but she was the foreign object—awkward and at strange angles. A table laden with covered plates and a sparkling water waited for them, and they sat.

  “A little quieter here to continue our conversation,” Stefan said.

  “What? Oh…yes. It is, thank you,” Nicki said. She uncovered the plate, but the thought of food on her suddenly queasy stomach was unappealing. Her hands were starting to sweat, and her heart thudded oddly—too hard, too fast. No, she implored herself. Not now.

  “I’m sorry, are you all right?”

  “Of course,” Nicki said quickly. “I’m hungry, I guess. You were better prepared than you realize.” She picked up her sparkling water and drank it down, then lifted her sandwich. Her hands were trembling. Food, she needed food, that’s all. Her nerves were simply jangled because she was suddenly alone with a man who she had kissed—twice—a man who currently was, in effect, her boss. A man who was also staring at her with inscrutable eyes, as if he could see into her mind.

  Nicki swallowed a bite and stared back at him. “I can follow directions, you know,” she said. “I’m not going to be a problem.”

  As soon as she said the words, she winced. He’d never said that to her in person—she’d overheard it.

  Stefan knew it too. His eyes lit with amusement.

  “I thought that was you. You must be quite incensed with me.”

  Stefan was enjoying the sight of Nicki so flustered. He shouldn’t be, but he was. Her awkwardness had started, he was certain, with the clothing. He got the feeling that Nicki didn’t wear pants very often unless she they were technical tights meant for scaling a mountain. But she looked exactly right, felt exactly right sitting across from him. He watched her over the rim of her glass, content to let her gather her thoughts.

  It appeared to take her a moment to process his words. She frowned. “Why would I be angry?”

  The question was genuine, and he answered it as forthrightly. “You heard me accuse you of not being able to follow orders, clearly. I’m sure there is more you overheard as well. My concerns about your fitness for this role, certainly.”

  “Well, you’d have no way of
knowing what I was really like, based on the experience you’ve had so far,” she said, shrugging. “I’ve done everything I can to annoy you. But this—” she waved her hand around the dining room. “This is different. This is a job. I’m on your team, and when you’re my team leader, I follow your lead. To the letter.”

  He lifted his brows and noted the stain of another blush crawling up her cheeks at the unintentionally forceful words.

  “You know what I mean,” she mumbled, then she brought up her head, as if to be sure he understood. “You tell me to stay on this boat, I stay. I’ve got my laptop and Kristos showed me how to connect to the satellite system. I’ll blog a couple of times today, and more tomorrow, with a few of my old blogs from last year’s tournament updated for filler so it appears I’m exactly what I’m supposed to be. I have a great underwater camera for diving if that works with your schedule, but if it doesn’t, I’ll stay put.”

  Stefan watched her soberly. “You’ll follow my directives.”

  “Absolutely,” she said. Then she sighed. “Look, I know you think I’m a liability on this trip. And I…” she appeared to rethink her statement, then pushed forward. “And I am, to some extent, because I’m new to all of this. I get that. But I’m cover. Like this sweater.” She tweaked the sleeve. “Here to put a good face on things. I’m not going to get in your way, and I’m not going to do anything to embarrass you. I’m not an idiot. I’ll learn the ropes and keep quiet.”

  He snorted. “I should have assigned you on a mission when you first arrived at the palace.”

  Another woman would have winced with embarrassment, but Nicki simply shrugged. “You should have. I’m a lot more useful than you give me credit for.”

  He leaned forward. “I’m intrigued by the possibilities,” he said, his words barely a murmur. A wild urge overtook him, so quickly that all rational thought flew out of his head. In front of him was no longer a team member, an American, a guest of the royal family. It was the woman he’d held on the beach. A woman who tasted of joy and sunshine, sea and life.

  He spoke before he could restrain himself. “So if my instructions were for you to make love to me, would you do it?”

  Once again, Nicki surprised him. She leaned forward with equal ease, giving him a broad wink. “If that would move the mission forward, absolutely.”

  His brows lifted. “And whose call would it be on what was required for the mission?”

  “Ultimately yours,” she grinned, ruining the seriousness of her tone. “But I get to be in the room when the king reads your debriefing report.”

  A broad smile creased his face—and Stefan considered that. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling at this woman. Nicki sat back, far more relaxed then when she’d first sat down. She was grinning as well, and she picked up her sandwich again and bit into it with more gusto.

  Inexplicably, Stefan found himself wanting to disclose the details of the mission, details he was quite sure that the queen would not have shared with Nicki, even if she knew them. Nicki needed to know, for one thing. But more importantly…he found he enjoyed sharing the information. Something else that didn’t quite make sense about Nicki Clark.

  He continued on anyway. “You do realize that I might have to ask you to remain behind, except when we are on PR stints in Alaçati proper. The Turkish secretary of ministry and culture has agreed to meet us and—”

  “Oh, him,” Nicki said, wrinkling her nose. “I was hoping he’d gotten run over by a bus since last year’s windsurfing competition.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t very diplomatic of me. I promise I won’t talk out of turn in Alaçati.”

  “You know him? Hasan Omir?”

  “Well enough. He was kind of a pig. Not too surprising, given his position and the kind of power he wields, and the fact that he was dealing with an international clientele of women in bathing suits. But yeah.”

  Stefan frowned. “He will be our primary contact in Alaçati. The ministry has taken a heightened focus on tourism in the area. Will that pose any difficulty?”

  “On the contrary,” she said. “He’s a fan—or he was. I met him last year at the competition. It’s sponsored by the PWA. Professional Windsurfers Association,” she explained as he quirked a glance at her. “That makes it a big deal, and there’s something around ten thousand competitors there every year, not to mention spectators and tourists. So Omir was on hand, and because I both competed and put up stringer reports for various windsurfing and extreme sports blogs, he was all over me. I don’t expect much has changed.”

  He frowned, but the secretary was a problem for another day. “We’ll be arriving at our initial destination at night, a small island off the coast of Alaçati. Does your camera work for nighttime photography?”

  “According to Kristos, yes. But he’s never tested it, and I’ve found that’s not always the ideal circumstances to try out new tech in unfamiliar waters. I’m not sure how much attention we’ll want to draw to ourselves, especially if people are expecting the videos to go live mere hours after I take them.”

  “You don’t seem like you’re one to avoid the limelight.”

  “The limelight, no. The light from crackling electrical fires—that’s a little more worth missing out on.”

  “We’ll have the men test it first. They’re usually game for a light show.”

  She shrugged. “Your funeral.”

  Stefan’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and Nicki pushed her seat back. “I need to work on my blogs, actually. Is one of the sitting rooms okay, or would you prefer me to stay in my cabin?”

  The request was made completely without artifice, and Stefan experienced a surge of possessiveness, a need to not let Nicki out of his sight, or out of his reach. To see if she would bend in his hands, or break, or simply melt like burnished mercury, too quick and ephemeral for him to hold.

  “A moment,” he said.

  Nicki stopped in place as he checked his phone. Cyril. They hadn’t been gone but an hour and already he was getting tagged from the palace. But he didn’t have to respond immediately to the chief advisor. Cyril could wait. For these few moments, he could imagine that there was no op that might open the door to an international incident or the crushing private loss of a family lived all over again.

  He could simply imagine he was on a private yacht with a woman who confounded him at every turn, yet who he wanted…needed to touch again.

  He stood and Nicki waited for him to reach her.

  Looking down at her, his need to respond to Cyril faded further into the background. “I confess,” he murmured. “I’d very much like to continue our conversation from the beach yesterday.”

  She wrinkled a brow at him. “That wasn’t so much a conversation. Conversations generally require words.”

  He paused, waiting for her to catch on. “Perhaps you could show me.”

  Nicki’s smile grew wider as realization dawned. “Is this one of those things that will move the mission forward?” she asked, her clear blue eyes warming with interest.

  “It’s a simple request.” He said, keeping his words bland. “If you find you’re unable to complete it—”

  “Oh no.” Nicki continued grinning as she placed her hands on his chest, bracing herself against him as she lifted to her toes. The pressure was warm, and far more welcome than he’d expected. “Far be it from me to take issue with a command order.”

  She brushed her soft lips against his once, twice, exploring his mouth with hers as he bent his head nearer, allowing her to move at her own pace, touching, tasting—searching. He felt more than heard her heart rate kick up, but it did so with a quickening rush as Nicki exhaled softly before following her breath with her lips and kissing him again.

  He couldn’t wait any longer. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her tight. He suddenly wanted more. Far more. As much as Nicki would give him, in fact, right here, right—

  His phone buzzed again.

  “You know, you should probably get that,” Ni
cki murmured against his lips. “There could have been a bomb that went off or something in the capital city, forcing us to go back.”

  “Garronia has an entire security force to attend to such matters.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe the queen wants a particular souvenir from Alaçati. You’d hate to not get her the right snow globe.”

  “That would indeed be a travesty.” Nevertheless, Stefan kept his arm around Nicki as he swiped for his phone. He connected on the third try.

  “Sir,” he said, as Nicki went silent in his arms.

  “How much of a briefing have you had on Nicki’s physical capabilities?”

  Nicki coughed beneath him, and even Stefan blinked, his own adrenaline jacking as her hands slid down his waist, swirling to the front of his trousers to where his erection tented his trousers. “Extensive, sir. Everything is well in hand.”

  Whether it was something in his voice or Cyril understood that this was not an avenue to pursue, the advisor moved on. “Very well. Let her know there are both wet and dry suits in her size aboard, but the tanks are not sized for someone of her frame. She’ll need to stick to snorkeling. Also, there are several other issues to discuss regarding when you reach Alaçati—”

  Nicki stood back with what a forced smile on her face. He frowned at her, but she regarded him far too seriously all of the sudden.

  “Problem?” he mouthed, and she shook her head, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

  Then she was gone.

  Chapter Five

  Nicki rushed back to her state room, her heart squeezing in her chest.

  Back off…back off! she implored herself. Her deep breathing didn’t help until she closed the door behind her.

  Did Cyril know somehow about her dizzy spells? She put her hands to her face, willing herself to relax. The girls wouldn’t have said anything—she knew they wouldn’t have. But if Cyril somehow had reached out to her parents…

  No. No he couldn’t have. There’s no way he’d let her continue on the mission if he suspected her heart might go out on her. She was over-reacting. Again.