Two weeks later, they were sitting in the king’s private jet at Dulles International Airport, readying for takeoff to Prylea. King Renault had finally been pronounced well enough to travel by his physicians and in short order, he had demanded to return home to his beloved country.

Packing up the townhouse had taken a few days, as had filing the required paperwork and manifests for the flight, but at last they were all boarded and ready to go. Esme was seated near the front of the cabin with Z beside her while her father and the rest of his medical convoy were taking up the back portion of the plane.

She glanced over at her husband-to-be, picking up immediately on his worried vibes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, not looking up from the stack of papers he was sorting through. “Just the usual security threats.”

The ones he’d followed up on were flagged with little red Post-its. She’d learned that much over the past few weeks they’d spent together. She’d also learned that while she’d been dealing with her lingering morning sickness and other adjustments of the first trimester of pregnancy, he and his team had been contacting local authorities about the letters they’d received from weirdos who seemed to know too much about the royal schedule or who’d mentioned the Halloween fire at the haunted house specifically.

Their own personal bodyguard stood poised across the space, stance ready in case of any problems. Esme bit back a smile at Z’s grouchy attitude toward that development. She’d explained that as her fiancé, he would now have a security guard of his own. Z hadn’t liked that, insisting it was a waste of money and that the guard shouldn’t be guarded.

Still, watching him page through all those threats and nasty letters, Esme couldn’t help feeling grateful that there were people looking out for them. Couldn’t help feeling a bit paranoid, too. When he wasn’t working, Z watched her constantly, and it made her feel like a fish in a bowl. Growing up, her tutors had done that, too, always watching her, always judging her, always criticizing behavior in one way or another. She stared out the window as their plane slowly taxied toward the runway. Was Z judging her, too? Did he question her choices? Like when she’d chosen the Danish over the fruit cup at breakfast this morning. Yes, the fruit would’ve been healthier, but those carbs were irresistible. What about her flagging energy? Sure, she tended to nap far more often these days then go for walks around the block, but then she was growing a new human inside her. She glanced down at her feet, at the cute stiletto heels she’d worn today with her new wool slacks and cashmere turtleneck. Z hadn’t liked those one bit, saying they were a walking hazard. He’d wanted her to wear a boring pair of flats instead. She’d ignored him, of course. Fashion was one of the few things she still felt excited about and she wanted to wear her nice things before she got too big to fit into them. Since they’d had their little spat about her wardrobe, though, he’d been very quiet—too quiet. She’d never done well with silence.

As the pilot came over the PA system, telling them to ready for takeoff, Esme was unable to stand it any longer.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again. “And don’t say it’s nothing, or I’ll poke you.”

Z gave her a side glance, one brow raised, entirely too handsome for his own good in a black turtleneck to match her own and soft, wool trousers she’d help pick out from the tailor. “Poke me? Seriously? What are you, twelve?”

“No,” she huffed, gripping the armrests of her chair tight as they zoomed down the runway. She’d never been a huge fan of flying and takeoffs were the worst. Plummeting through space, being forced back into your seat by the pressure, the sickening drop of your stomach as you broke your earthly bounds and soared heavenward. The pregnancy only made it worse, and she swallowed hard against the rising bile in her throat, eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey, princess,” Z whispered, his arm warm and strong pressed against hers. “Breathe.”

She did, exhaling all her pent-up stress and anxiety and then inhaling cool, cabin air. After several minutes, her ears popped, and her stomach settled, and she felt much better. She opened her eyes again to find Z watching her, his head cocked and his blue eyes warm.

“You good?” he asked. “Got pills and crackers in my briefcase, if you need them.”

“No, I’m better now. Thanks, though.” She shifted in her seat as he started flipping through his papers again. “I can tell something’s bothering you. You might as well tell me because you know I won’t let it go until I find out the truth.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I know. Fine. I think there’s a leak somewhere in our entourage.”

“A leak?”

“Yeah. An informant.” He restacked his papers then sat back. “I think someone here has been in contact with Silvester’s people in Prylea, tipping them off to where we’re going and what we’re doing, maybe even tipping off the press too. That’s the only reason I can come up with for how they found out about your pregnancy and about the king’s condition. Everyone at the doctor’s office and at the hospital was fully screened beforehand, so I know it wasn’t them.”

“But all the people around us have been with us for years.” She blinked several times, shocked. “We trust them.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He reached over and placed his hand over hers on the armrest. “Unfortunately, there’s more, princess. I talked to the police before we left. Apparently, that fire at the haunted house on Halloween wasn’t an accident. It was deliberately set.”

Esme opened her mouth to respond then closed it, unsure of what to say. So now not only were the people she trusted betraying her family, someone was trying to kill her as well. Without thinking, she placed her free hand over her abdomen, over her unborn child, knowing she’d do anything to protect her baby.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, princess, but I’m pretty sure we’ve got a mole. Well, not a mole exactly. More of a hacker on the technical side, feeding information through social media or emails. But as of yet, I haven’t been able to find the weak link. There’s no common denominator.” He squeezed her icy fingers in his warm ones. “I’ve asked my security team to step up the guard around you until we can confirm the sex of our child. If it’s a boy, then we’ll have to step things up even more, I’d say, to keep Silvester away.”

The weight of the world suddenly fell upon her shoulders. Between the pregnancy and coping with her father’s illness and impending demise, Es hadn’t really given much thought to her own safety. But now it was staring her in the face and requiring her to take action.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes again, but she blinked them away. She would not cry, no matter how badly she wanted to. If only her mother were there, she’d know what to do, how to handle all of this.

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Puffy white clouds drifted past the windows of the plane, obscuring the view of the snow-covered land below.

“Okay, princess?” Z asked, his lips resting on the top of her head.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Her voice trembled, and she closed her eyes. “I’m just so worried about everything now. What about my father? What about our baby? What about the future? It feels like no matter what I do, it’s the wrong move. But I have to do something and—”

Z bent and kissed her, effectively ending the avalanche of doubts and fears cascading from her lips. By the time he pulled away, they were both a bit distracted, their breathing hitched. He rested his forehead against hers and smiled. “Whatever happens, princess, we’ll deal with it. Together. We’re partners in this, remember?”

His words sounded so sweet and steadfast and she wanted so much to believe him, to believe that everything would work out for the best no matter how dire things seemed now. But the niggle of doubt inside her refused to die. She knew Z would stand by her side until the baby was born, no matter what. She also knew that his ultimate goal was to get back to his SEAL team and she wouldn’t, couldn’t, stand in the way of that. Over the past few weeks, she’d grown not only to like Zachary Raybourn very much, she’d grown to respect him as well. He was a man of integrity and loyalty and moral fortitude. Someday, he’d make one special woman very lucky. But it was getting harder and harder to remind herself that that woman wouldn’t be her. He was only here because of their deal, and while she had no doubt he’d honor their contract, she couldn’t be fooled into thinking his friendly affections were anything more than that.

Taking a deep breath, Esme forced herself to sit up straight and square her shoulders. She was Princess Esme, of the royal house of Prylea and she would handle this because she’d been trained to do anything that the world required of her, alone if necessary, to save her country and to secure the throne for her child. She stared out the window again, her dread increasing as they traveled farther away from the States and closer to the danger zone ahead.

“Princess?” Z asked again.

“Yes. Fine,” she said, thankful her voice was no longer shaking, despite her quivering inside. “We’ll handle whatever lies ahead.”

“Together.” Z nudged her to get her to look at him, his smile inviting.

She nodded. “Together.”