Majesty?” Amelia prodded when the king made no reply. She slanted a glance toward Russell, concerned about the monarch’s state of health. “Would you like to lie down?”
Very slowly, Weston turned his head toward her, as if unable to move his eyes independently. “I—I—”
He couldn’t go on, couldn’t force any more words from his lips. There was no air with which to move them. His heart was hammering too hard for him to catch his breath. What there was of it was quickly fading from him. And his head, his head was doing very strange things. Lights were winking in and out, blurring his vision, making him see things out of his past. Things that were not there.
A baby. His wife. Both appeared to him in flashes and then were gone. And all the while, there was this pounding in his brain. A pounding that grew ever louder.
Weston’s knees gave way, failing him.
Like a crumpled doll, the king collapsed. He would have hit the floor had Russell’s reflexes not been so keen. He grabbed the monarch just before the latter hit the floor.
Propping him up, Russell looked at the king. “Your Majesty, can you hear me?” Russell cried. Weston’s eyes rolled back in his head.
Dr. Burnett was at his side immediately. “Bring him in here!” she ordered, leading the way into the clinic. Russell picked the unconscious man up in his arms and followed her. Amelia was right beside him.
An alarm was sounded. Instantly, there were technicians and equipment materializing from all over the fully stocked clinic. Russell placed the king down on the gurney that had been brought over, then stepped back. Amelia shadowed his movements, her eyes never leaving the king’s crumpled body.
“Is he—?” She couldn’t get herself to finish the question.
“He’s still alive,” Russell told her.
The staff did what they could. The defibrillator paddles were not necessary. The king’s heart went on beating, but despite all their best efforts, the king remained unconscious.
Maybe it was better that way, Russell thought, watching as the king was taken to a private room. Everything that had happened in the last few minutes had been too much for the monarch to process. The man needed his rest. His body needed to fight its way back to health. To grow strong enough to handle the adverse situation it found itself in.
“Inform whoever needs to be told that the king is staying here tonight,” Dr. Burnett told Russell.
“Do you think a hospital might be better for him?” Amelia suggested.
“The king has been fighting off the effects of the flu,” the doctor told her. “We’re running some tests, but perhaps all he needs is a little rest. We can tell more in the morning.”
Russell nodded. In the meantime, he thought, he had answers to find and a potential king to track down.
“We’re not going to Gastonia just yet,” he told Amelia.
Gastonia’s princess threaded her fingers through her husband’s as the doctor drew a curtain around the king’s bed. They would be going home soon enough, she promised herself. Right now, Russell needed to be here. Needed to stand by his king and help him. His sense of duty and responsibility were among the things she loved about him.
“I know,” she murmured. Her tone told him he had her full support.
A man could not ask for more. Not even if he were a king.
The Princess's Secret Scandal
By Karen Whiddon
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 1
“Are you sure she’s—?” Chase Savage broke off, stifling a curse.
A horn honked. Traffic inched slowly forward. He pressed the cell phone against his ear with one hand, keeping the other on the steering wheel while he negotiated the heavy downtown Silverton traffic.
“Yes, of course.” His caller chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Though he hated to do so, especially to his boss, as head of the royal publicity department Chase felt he must point out the obvious. “She’s avoiding the reporters.”
The all-important press. Couldn’t live with them, couldn’t live without them.
His Grace, Russell Southgate, III, Duke of Carrington, and Chase’s employer, made a rude sound. “For now. She’s holding out. You know how the game is played. You’ve dealt with her kind before.”
Chase sighed. At the ripe age of twenty-nine, he really had seen it all. There seemed to be an endless supply of royal groupies and hangers-on, all wanting something for nothing. Some craved sex, most sought money or a slight slice of fame. Royal fame. Which he knew could often be a royal pain in the ass.
“Are you certain Reginald didn’t—” Chase began.
“His Highness might be difficult, but he’s still next in line for the throne. And this is not just any groupie. Even if she is from the wrong side of the blanket, she’s still daughter to Prince Kerwin of Naessa. You know that.”
“She doesn’t move in the usual circles. I’ve never met her.”
“I know.” Carrington sighed again. “Maybe that’s what intrigued Reginald. Who knows? Though Reginald is denying everything this time, his mistake could have an enormous impact. Not just Silvershire is affected. The woman says she’s pregnant, for God’s sake. If this is not handled properly, the situation could become a political disaster.” The Duke muttered a particularly un-royal curse, making Chase grin. Unlike most of the royals he spent his time protecting, when Carrington let down his guard, he could be a regular guy. Almost.
“Get to her before she talks to the press. The damage she could do…” Chase could hear the other man shudder, even over the phone line.
“So you want me to ‘handle’ her?” As a huge, blue SUV cut him off, Chase lay on his horn. “How?”
“With style and class, as usual. Offer her money to take her child and disappear. You can do it, the way only you know how. I have confidence you’ll do splendidly, as usual.”
The rare compliment, coming from Carrington, told Chase more than anything how important this was. In the six years since Chase had moved up the ranks from royal bodyguard to publicist, Carrington had been a good employer and a fair boss. He’d been instrumental in Chase’s career, taking an interest in the younger man and helping him navigate the sometime intricate maze that comprised royal life.
Effortlessly and tirelessly making the royals look good had earned Chase a promotion to head of public relations. The Wizard of PR, his staff called him. He sort of liked the name.
“I’m on my way to the Hotel Royale now.” Chase consulted his watch, a Rolex, which had been an expensive holiday gift Prince Reginald had given half the palace staff. “I should be there in, oh, thirty minutes or less.”