Chey felt like someone had kicked her in the gut. Pregnant? Her shock knew no bounds.

“It's not mine,” Sander said a moment later, when Chey failed to respond. “But it's someone's, which is why this whole thing got a rush job on it. Valentina undoubtedly put restrictions on time, because she knew she could only hide it for so long. The King and Queen obviously don't know, or they never would have agreed, since that would make a bastard the King or Queen of Latvala one day. Valentina's been playing us all.” He paused, then added, “But not for much longer.”

“Are you sure it's not yours?” Chey asked, blown away by the news. She couldn't recover from the sheer magnitude of what was happening.

“No. I've never slept with her. Not on our 'wedding night' or any day after. She's knocked up by some playboy who isn't titled, I'm sure, and this is her best shot at avoiding a scandal that will bring Weithan Royalty into unwanted limelight. It must have happened after Monte Carlo, since she'd been content to wait until Spring before then.”

Falling silent, Chey absorbed everything Sander told her. Many things now began to make much better sense. Finally, she said, “Were you afraid they were watching you, is that why you couldn't get word out sooner?”

“I didn't just suspect it, I knew they were monitoring me. It was tricky to just get the note out that I did. The King put a few of his security team on me, and they stuck like glue. I could hardly breathe for the way they suffocated my personal space. Anyway, we only have a small time frame to sneak you into the country, so that's why it was critical to go now.”

“Why such a small window?” she asked, remembering to take a drink from her glass.

“Because I have the current customs official in my pocket as well, but not the ones three shifts after. Nor the one before. I can only make so many trips stateside before someone gets suspicious, which makes slipping you in precarious to say the least.” He arched his brows and finished his fourth drink of the day.

“You should have just told me all this at the cemetery,” Chey said. “I wouldn't have given you such a hard time.”

“Would you have believed the very abbreviated version of this story?” he asked with a droll lilt to his accent.

Chey actually laughed. “Well...now that you mention it, probably not. I would have thought you were just saying anything to get me to go with you.”

“Right.” He nodded once, then tilted his head back against the chair, watching her through the slats of his lashes.

“Where will I be staying then, if not the family seat?” she asked, imagining some cabin in the woods far from prying Royal eyes. Then she recalled mention of another castle.

“Kallaster Castle. You won't need to fear the staff there will turn you in, or relay information that you're in the country. Still, everyone will need to be mildly vigilant for a while until I blow this whole thing wide open. Visitors rarely come without prior warning, considering it's on an island and passage can get dangerous in bad weather, but extra attention will have to be paid. I think you'll like it there,” he added, knees parting wide when he slouched down. Sander looked tired in that moment, as if the long hours and days of the past weeks were finally taking a toll.

“This feels risky,” she admitted, of her return to Latvala. “How long will we have to keep a lid on it? I mean—how long until I won't have to feel that my life is in danger?”

“It's less risky to me to have you where I can see you, so to speak, than to have you half way around the world. Honestly, I just don't trust that Valentina or the King and Queen won't try to finish you off. They won't be expecting me to do something so bold. In my mind, Kallaster Castle is the last place they'll think to find you.” He paused, reaching an arm up over his head to clasp the seat with his hand. “Like the rest of us, you'll always have to be a little cautious. But I plan to make sure the King and Queen are shut down with any plans to harm you again. Maybe...three weeks? Four? Mattias and I are still figuring when and where to expose this mess. We need to do it at the right time, get as much bang for our buck as we can.”

“That makes sense,” Chey said, following the line of his arm with her eyes. She trailed down to his chest, then his stomach, to the way the jeans fit over his muscular thighs. Turning her thoughts back to more serious things, she glanced at his face to find him watching her as if he knew exactly what she'd been thinking.

She quirked her lips at him.

He smiled, lazy and leonine.

“You're not completely off the hook, you know,” she said. “I'm still smarting over seeing you get married. Well, watching your fake marriage.”

His shoulders shook with a silent laugh. “What will it take to get me back in your good graces?”

Chey hated the way the velvet rasp of his voice brought shivers down her spine. “That's for me to know and you to find out.”

“Does it involve the bedroom in the back?”

“Sander!” Chey glanced over her shoulder; the stewardess was nowhere in sight.

“I'm only saying what you're thinking,” he drawled.

Chey glanced back. “You look about as capable for a romp as I look to go walking down a Milan runway.”

He exhaled, as if she would just never get it. Then he leaned forward, snatched her out of her chair, and hauled her back to the bedroom.

Sander shut the door with a decisive thud of his boot.

---

---

Chey hadn't lied when she said he wasn't completely off the hook. In the aftermath of lust that had left them both shattered and breathless, Chey stared up at the ceiling of the plane, one arm tucked behind her head, and wondered whether Sander would succeed in besting Valentina and the King. He seemed to have all the chess pieces necessary, and, at least from her vantage, was closing in on a check-mate.

One of the lessons she'd learned in life was that you could never count on anything going to plan. There was always some juggernaut waiting to throw a wrench into your well oiled machine. The wrench in this case could be that the King himself had a counter to Sander's blackmail. Maybe he had something powerful in his coffer Sander couldn't envision, hadn't foreseen.

You're such a paranoid skeptic, she chided herself.

Wynn hadn't been happy to hear of Chey's plans. On the way to the private airstrip, they'd found a payphone for Chey to make a quick call, and she'd informed Wynn what she needed her to do in less than thirty seconds.

Wynn's protests rang in Chey's mind. Have you totally lost all good sense? You really believe that nonsense he's probably selling you? What if he can't protect you like you think he can?

They'd talked over each other, until finally, Wynn had given up and agreed to do as Chey asked.

Of course Chey had doubts and fears. Sander's plan had worked so far—maybe he would see it successfully through to the end. The what ifs plagued Chey while she rolled onto her side to face Sander. He was out cold, on his stomach, one arm flung wide.

What if he couldn't protect her, and Aksel and Helina discovered she was in the country? Would they send her to jail—or plan something more sinister? Even if Sander orchestrated the blackmail to its highest advantage, would it really keep her safe?

She trailed her fingers over the warm skin of Sander's back, tracing muscle, tracing bone. He rumbled, but didn't waken.

On the other hand, reverse to her worries and fears, was the blossoming sensation of pride and affection that he'd taken the time to fit her into his plan. That he was concerned enough over her well being that he'd risked seeking her out in public at the cemetery, and taking her to the hotel. Once they were on the plane, he'd explained as he said he would—and what a tale it had been. It pleased her to know that Sander hadn't taken Valentina to bed on their fake wedding night.

What excuse had he given? I have a headache rolled through her thoughts, in Sander's voice, and a laugh accidentally bubbled past her lips. Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that conversation!

Dealing with Royalty was proving to be every bit as complicated as it appeared from the beginning.

For now, she decided to come to peace with the turmoil, the grief. She truly believed Sander meant to set aright the wrongs so that they could be together.

What it meant for the country of Latvala, or the rest of the family subject to the fallout, she couldn't say.