to go check something out. Thanks for the Princess 101 stuff. I guess.” She waved distractedly over her shoulder and practically ran out of the drawing room.
C hristina screeched to a halt in front of Queen Dara’s portrait and once again studied the proud, amazingly beautiful features. Then she sidled down a few feet and looked at the painting of the king’s grandmother.
The queen’s family is slightly unreasonable on the subject of His Highness Prince Nicholas.
Idiotic notion. They believed the rumors of all the lovers the queen took. Believed Nicholas belonged only to the queen, that there was none of the king in him. And wanted to steal him for themselves. It was sad, because grief did horrible things to people, but it was stupid, too.
“Morons,” she said to the empty gallery. “Anybody can see the kid looks exactly like his great-grandma. On his father’s side.”
You must always be wary of the name Domonov.
“Okay, okay!” Amazing. The guy was twenty-three rooms and two floors away, and he was still droning in her head.
She heard footsteps and whipped around, already feeling the goofy grin on her face, a grin which instantly dropped off when she saw the visitor wasn’t David.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“Nice! I could have you deported, kiddo.” King Alexander snapped his fingers, which, she couldn’t help but notice, were filthy. Gardening? More fishing? Digging in the dirt with his youngest son? Who the hell knew? With this guy, it could be anything. “Like that!”
“Sure. Like you’re going to let me get away that easily.”
“True enough,” he said cheerfully, wiping his dirty palms on his blue-jeaned thighs. “You’re stuck here. We all are!”
“I was just looking at your family’s portraits.”
“Yeah.” The king stopped and squinted at Queen Dara’s likeness. “Boy oh boy, what a woman. When they made her they broke the mold. Then they beat the living shit out of the mold-maker.”
She burst out laughing.
“Well, it’s true. And if it isn’t, it oughtta be. She was—you have no idea.” The king ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a smudge of dirt on his forehead. He looked distracted and sad. Her heart broke a little, seeing him like that. Plenty of women had tried to entice the royal widower. Everyone had failed. He so obviously still carried a torch for the dead queen. “Some days I wanted her to be at my side all day long, and others I had to actually resist the urge to strangle her.”
“I’ve heard she was…uh…”
“Well, she was. But she was exciting, and beautiful, and things were never dull when she was around. You know what happened? How she died?”
“Uh…” Some of the more lurid headlines popped into her brain: Alaskan queen killed in car wreck en route to lover’s hideaway. Queen Dara dead in crash outside lover’s house. “Well…”
“She was on her way to her hairdresser and wasn’t paying attention, and got in a crash.”
“Oh. That’s…uh…a little different from—”
“She was on her way,” the king said with deadly quiet, “to the hairdresser.”
“Sure. Everybody knows that.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I s’pose I should have insisted she use a driver, but that shit didn’t help Princess Diana, did it?”
“I guess not.” She paused, then added, “I still remember exactly where I was when I heard Diana was dead. I was so upset…didn’t cry, but…I just couldn’t believe it, and I was so bummed. Which was weird, because I’d never met her. But I was really sad about it, for a long time.”
“Well, I did meet her. And you never met a more charming lady. She was about the only one at Buckingham who didn’t make me feel like I had straw in my hair and cowshit on my heels.”
“Is that what’s under your fingernails?”
They laughed together, like family.
Chapter 12
“—and while our ancestors were happy to make new lives for themselves in the formidable Alaskan wilderness, Russian law
C hristina screeched to a halt in front of Queen Dara’s portrait and once again studied the proud, amazingly beautiful features. Then she sidled down a few feet and looked at the painting of the king’s grandmother.
The queen’s family is slightly unreasonable on the subject of His Highness Prince Nicholas.
Idiotic notion. They believed the rumors of all the lovers the queen took. Believed Nicholas belonged only to the queen, that there was none of the king in him. And wanted to steal him for themselves. It was sad, because grief did horrible things to people, but it was stupid, too.
“Morons,” she said to the empty gallery. “Anybody can see the kid looks exactly like his great-grandma. On his father’s side.”
You must always be wary of the name Domonov.
“Okay, okay!” Amazing. The guy was twenty-three rooms and two floors away, and he was still droning in her head.
She heard footsteps and whipped around, already feeling the goofy grin on her face, a grin which instantly dropped off when she saw the visitor wasn’t David.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“Nice! I could have you deported, kiddo.” King Alexander snapped his fingers, which, she couldn’t help but notice, were filthy. Gardening? More fishing? Digging in the dirt with his youngest son? Who the hell knew? With this guy, it could be anything. “Like that!”
“Sure. Like you’re going to let me get away that easily.”
“True enough,” he said cheerfully, wiping his dirty palms on his blue-jeaned thighs. “You’re stuck here. We all are!”
“I was just looking at your family’s portraits.”
“Yeah.” The king stopped and squinted at Queen Dara’s likeness. “Boy oh boy, what a woman. When they made her they broke the mold. Then they beat the living shit out of the mold-maker.”
She burst out laughing.
“Well, it’s true. And if it isn’t, it oughtta be. She was—you have no idea.” The king ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a smudge of dirt on his forehead. He looked distracted and sad. Her heart broke a little, seeing him like that. Plenty of women had tried to entice the royal widower. Everyone had failed. He so obviously still carried a torch for the dead queen. “Some days I wanted her to be at my side all day long, and others I had to actually resist the urge to strangle her.”
“I’ve heard she was…uh…”
“Well, she was. But she was exciting, and beautiful, and things were never dull when she was around. You know what happened? How she died?”
“Uh…” Some of the more lurid headlines popped into her brain: Alaskan queen killed in car wreck en route to lover’s hideaway. Queen Dara dead in crash outside lover’s house. “Well…”
“She was on her way to her hairdresser and wasn’t paying attention, and got in a crash.”
“Oh. That’s…uh…a little different from—”
“She was on her way,” the king said with deadly quiet, “to the hairdresser.”
“Sure. Everybody knows that.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I s’pose I should have insisted she use a driver, but that shit didn’t help Princess Diana, did it?”
“I guess not.” She paused, then added, “I still remember exactly where I was when I heard Diana was dead. I was so upset…didn’t cry, but…I just couldn’t believe it, and I was so bummed. Which was weird, because I’d never met her. But I was really sad about it, for a long time.”
“Well, I did meet her. And you never met a more charming lady. She was about the only one at Buckingham who didn’t make me feel like I had straw in my hair and cowshit on my heels.”
“Is that what’s under your fingernails?”
They laughed together, like family.
Chapter 12
“—and while our ancestors were happy to make new lives for themselves in the formidable Alaskan wilderness, Russian law
Similar Books
