CHAPTER TEN

 

“Kristoff? Are you in there?”

The banging on the cabin door broke through Kristoff’s maudlin thoughts, and he turned away from the porthole he’d been staring out of for the last twenty minutes. He considered ignoring Mack’s call, and hoping his brother would go away, but when the door handle rattled, he sighed in defeat.

“No,” he called out. “Go away.”

From the other side of the door came his brother’s snort of laughter, but the younger man pushed inside anyhow. “Found you on the second try.”

“How?” Not that Kristoff really cared, all things considered. He didn’t really care about anything anymore…

Mack closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, his hands in the trousers of his tuxedo. “With us still moored, there’s only one side which offers a view of the bay, and I knew you’d be moping somewhere where you could see the water.” He nodded towards the porthole. “So I started checking the private cabins.”

Kristoff just grunted at his brother’s ingenuity, and turned back to the view. Mack was right; he did feel more comfortable staring at the water. “Why are you here?”

“Mom sent me.”

“Really?”

“Well, no. When Doct—sorry, Pops, showed up with Cassandra, and it was obvious she’d been crying, Mom said—and I quote—‘What has that son of mine done now?’, so I figured someone had better track you down. You came on board with all of us, after all, but disappeared.”

Kristoff didn’t say anything. He just kept staring. He had come on board the royal yacht with his family, as was traditional…but slipped away before the official photographs started. He hadn’t felt like celebrating, after all, and since Alek had declared the yacht would stay moored tonight, because of the security concerns, Kristoff didn’t even have the comfort of the Baltic around him.

Mack didn’t take the hint. “Of course, she could’ve been talking about any of her sons, but you’re the one Cassandra has been hanging out with lately. You’re the one who partnered with her today…”

He trailed off, obviously fishing for a response or a hint at what had happened. When Kristoff didn’t answer, Mack kept poking.

“I guess it’s no surprise she’s been crying. You lost today because of her, didn’t you? You’ve never lost, but you take someone like her on board—someone so clumsy—and she cost you the race.” He sighed. “It’s really no surprise, I guess. She’s awkward and bumbling, and I’m guessing she tripped and fell and brought down the sails at the last minute. Someone like her—”

That’s it.

Kristoff whirled on his brother. “Someone like her? Someone like her?” He couldn’t stand to listen to Mack—or anyone—disparage Cass that way. “Someone like her is sweet, and funny, and smart as hell.” He advanced on Mack, one finger pointed at the younger man’s chest. “She’s gorgeous, and yeah, Cass might be a little clumsy on land, but not on the water. She’s—she’s—fun, and—and—”

He was so furious, he was running out of words. And his stupid brother just stood there, hands in his pockets, leaning up against the door like he was glad Kristoff was pissed off.

Mack’s smirk grew. “Don’t forget charming.”

“What?” Kristoff sputtered.

“Charming. Cassandra is funny, sexy, smart, and charming.”

Kristoff frowned, his anger easing into confusion. “Yeah. Charming.” He squinted suspiciously at his brother. “She’s perfect. Perfect for me, at least. She’s never so much as tripped on board.”

“Do you love her?”

Kristoff stared for a long moment. Did he love her?

“…Yeah.”

Yes, he did. But…

“But why would she throw the race like that?”

Mack shrugged, and straightened away from the door. “She’s smart, as you said, so I’m sure there’s a reason for it. Was there a reason she might not want to win?”

No. But there’s a reason she might have wanted me to come in second place.

Kristoff closed his eyes on a groan and turned away from his brother, stumbling towards the bunk. He sunk down on it, and dropped his head into his hands.

Was it the wager? Really? Had she made sure to lose the race so he could declare Enriching Children the recipient of the winner’s pot, even if he wasn’t the one who’d won?

She’d known what was important to him, and done what he had no intention of doing; losing intentionally.

“Well, I guess you’ve figured it out. Want to share?”

Kristoff could hear the smirk in his brother’s soft voice, and he snorted into his palms. “No.” Not in a million years would he explain what kind of idiot he’d been, to get into a situation where Cass had to make that decision for him. “No,” he repeated.

Mack wasn’t the one he needed to explain anything to. But Cass was.

“Where is she?” he growled.

His brother, bless him, knew exactly who he meant. “In the ballroom with the rest of the family. She kept trying to sneak off, but Emma is sticking to her, and Pops keeps sneaking her vodka.”

“Cass is drinking?” What had caused that?

But Mack snorted. “In the time it took me to slip away to look for you, I saw her dump two drinks into potted plants. You’d better get up there before she kills a fern.”

Kristoff dropped his hands, and straightened his shoulders. He had to get up there to talk to her.

To take her in his arms, and tell her he understood why she’d thrown the race.

To thank her.

To tell her he loved her.

“If you’re still standing between me and the door in five seconds, I’m going to knock you over.”

His brother’s laughter echoed behind Kristoff as he hurried down the corridor for the grand staircase.

Even though this party was fairly exclusive—limited only to the Regatta winners, the committee, the charitable representatives, and the press—Kristoff had to practically elbow his way past the people packed thickly in the small ballroom.

And Aunt Marina wants to fit a state wedding in here, huh?

There was Lady Marcia, chatting with Alek and a very suspicious-looking Toni. She was probably there as one of the founders of Enriching Children. And plenty of people—even some kids—who looked so uncomfortable in their formal wear Kristoff could tell they were sailors. He recognized the yacht’s captain chatting with one of the winners, and the rest of the crew—obvious in their crisp white uniforms—were circulating throughout the room, at ease since the ship was moored and  they weren’t needed on the bridge. Everywhere there were photographers capturing the glitz and the glitter, and Johan was in the corner talking to Emma’s journalist friend, what’s her name. Trixie? Tracy?

And then someone shifted out of the way, and Kristoff saw Cass. She was dressed in a simple blue dress—no sequins or poofs this time—and looking downright miserable, standing between her father and Arne.

Kristoff simultaneously felt as if he’d been knocked in the chest with a boom and as if he were under full sail out on the Baltic: Exhilarated and terrified all at once.

He managed a deep breath, and stepped towards Cass—

And stumbled into a warm body. A warm body with too much perfume, too much hair spray, and not nearly enough clothes.

It took him a moment to untangle himself—made more difficult by the fact the woman obviously didn’t want to help—and stared into the smiling face of his mother’s wedding planner.

“Hello, Prince Kristoff,” Britta purred, looking like a cat who’d gotten into the cream. “It’s good to…see you.”

The way she looked him up and down left nothing to the imagination. He’d seen Viggo look at women that way—like he was measuring them for his bed, later—but they’d never seemed to mind when he did it. When Britta looked at Kristoff that way though, he felt…dirty. Like he was a conquest or something.

He resisted the urge to pull his jacket tighter around him. “Hello, Britta. What can I do for you?”

He tried to edge around her, remaining polite but distant. She wasn’t going for it. If anything, she pressed herself against him even more. Whatever she was wearing under that silky strapless red dress, it wasn’t underwear. He swore he could feel every little knobby bone—she lacked all of Cass’s delicious curves.

“Oh, Your Highness.” Her laugh was tinkling and fake, like the rest of her. “It’s not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you.”

Good God, if she pressed herself any closer, she’d be behind him.

Kristoff did his best to back away, to move towards Cass, but Britta followed, plastered against him.

“Would you like to dance, Kristoff?” she purred, rubbing her bony pelvis in what she probably thought was an enticing manner.

“Um…no, not really.”

He was almost to Cass, and his brother had gone off and left her alone. Now all he had to do was get rid of Britta…

“Whoops!”

Britta’s not-quite convincing stumble landed her in his arms, as she grabbed his neck to keep from falling. Kristoff twisted to catch her—although she probably deserved to land on her face after that move—and ended up facing Cass with his arms around another woman.

The bleak look of despair on her face broke his heart.

“Cass? I’m sorry, sweetheart, this isn’t—”

He did his best to remove Britta’s arms from his neck, but the woman was like a limpet; hard and moist and determined. And Cass just looked…accepting. Like she’d expected Britta to end up in his arms.

“Cass…?” he whispered.

“Oh, Cassandra!” Britta’s high-pitched surprise was too faked as she swung around. “I didn’t see you there, you’re so invisible, really, aren’t you?” She giggled. “Look at me, tripping and falling—it’s like something you would do! Anyhow, Kristoff was just getting ready to dance with me.”

“No, I wasn’t,” he protested her unnecessary rudeness.

Cass didn’t seem to hear him. “That’s great,” she said dully. “I’m sure you two will be very happy dancing together.”

What the hell? “Cass, what are you—”

“Come on, Kristoff!” Britta tugged at him. “Cass says it’s okay for us to dance.”

“Yeah, but—”

“So we’re going to dance.” Her voice became steelier, more determined.

Kristoff straightened. “I don’t want to dance.”

He looked between the two women, and realized there was something going on he didn’t understand. He latched on to Britta’s wrists and pulled them off him, pushing her away as far as he could manage with her fighting him.

Whereas the wedding planner had been sweet and sensual a moment before, now her blue eyes spit cold fire and her mouth was an unattractive white line as she glared at Cass.

Cass seemed to wilt even further, shrinking into herself, all of the vibrant glow he loved so much diminished.

“You have to,” she whispered, staring at his shoes.

“What?”

Her tongue flicked out over her lips. “You have to dance with her, Kristoff.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Britta preen, but she wasn’t worth his attention. “Why?” Why would he have to dance with such a pretentious, fake woman?

“She won the race,” Cass said in a voice so low it was a miracle he heard it at all. “So she’s your date tonight.”

Just like that, it all made sense, and Kristoff threw his head back and laughed. His laughter was loud and a little desperate, and drew more attention than he wanted, but he couldn’t help it.

It was funny.

“Kristoff…”

It was the way she’d said his name which shut him up. Embarrassed, small. Like she was disappointed in him, almost. His lips snapped closed, and he stepped towards her.

“Cass, you and Britta—what? You had some kind of—of bet?” He’d been focused on the dumb wager he’d made with Hans, and had totally missed Cass’s history with Britta.

When she peeked up at him and nodded slightly, he felt the laughter trying to climb his throat. He swallowed it, because she was still looking miserable.

“So, you threw the race, in order to help me out, even though it meant losing to Britta?”

When she nodded again, he stepped forward and placed one finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Cass, talk to me.” He did his best to ignore Britta behind them. “You really bet me?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her lovely brown eyes full of tears. “I wanted to—”

When she bit down on whatever she was going to say, he nudged her. “You wanted what, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“I wanted you to be happy,” she wailed.

He was chuckling when he pulled her into his arms and pressed her face against his shoulder. To his utter relief, her arms snaked around his middle and she seemed to burrow into his chest.

This is where she belonged. Where he belonged.

“I’m happy like this, sweetheart. Bet or no bet, race or no race, I’m not going to go against what my heart tells me.”

She stiffened slightly. “Your heart?” she asked against his jacket lapel.

“I love you, Cassandra Hayes.”

Cass made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a sob, and pulled away just far enough to stare up at him. “But—but—?”

“But what?” He raised one brow.

She stepped back farther, pulling him so he could see a very pissed-off Britta. The other woman was tapping her foot, and ugly red splotches were climbing up her neck.

Cass took a deep breath. “But Britta. She’s a friend of your aunt’s and she’s beautiful, and way better adjusted to life in court, obviously. You’d be silly to want to date a woman like me when you could have a woman like her.”

The wedding planner slowly relaxed under Cass’s praise, her hand coming up to fluff her blonde hair and the other resting confidently on her hip.

She might’ve been sexy to someone else—someone who liked skinny, conniving blondes—but not Kristoff. He fought down his smile, and said the one thing he knew would convince both women he wasn’t interested in Britta.

“I dunno. Isn’t she a little old for me?” Ignoring the way Britta gasped and stiffened in outrage, he continued, “I mean, she’s Aunt Marina’s friend. Doesn’t that make her—what, like forty-five or something?”

While Britta sputtered, uttering the first syllables of a half-dozen sentences, Kristoff tightened his hold on Cass, and waited until she looked up at him in disbelief. It was obvious she’d never considered the age difference between him and Britta, but the woman was almost fifteen years older than him.

Britta’s age wouldn’t have mattered if he genuinely liked the woman, but she was fake and brittle and entirely too pushy. Cass, on the other hand…

“She’s pretty, Cass, but you’re gorgeous. You’re the woman I want in my arms for the rest of my life, and no bet and no race is going to change that.”

He saw the exact moment she understood what he was saying, the exact moment she believed it as the truth. Her expression softened and her eyes glistened with tears, and she seemed to melt against him.

“Really, Kristoff?”

“I love you, Cass.”

“I—”

He never found out what she was going to say, because in that moment the yacht gave a mighty lurch. Britta stumbled against him, and he dropped one arm around Cass to brace himself against the wall to catch all three of them. All around them, people were catching one another and exclaiming in shock.

Kristoff righted both of the women—without letting Cass go—and used his height to scan the room. No one was on the ground—thank God—but there was a lot of angry voices and worried faces.

What had happened? The yacht was still moored, which had allowed guests to come and go. It wasn’t like they could’ve collided with something…right?

No sooner had he had that thought than a piercing alarm began to blare. Everyone in the ballroom froze for a moment, before erupting into panic.

Kristoff tightened his hold on Cass and looked down at her grimly.

“What’s that?” she asked over the alarm.

He hated to have to say it. “The ‘Abandon Ship’ notice. We’re sinking.”

From around them, the screams began, as guests realized the same thing. Britta pushed away from him, yelling for her brother to come save her. Aunt Marina hurried by, her face a mask of terror, repeating “Oh my God, no, no, no!”

But Cass…? Cass just stared up at him trustingly. She wasn’t freaked out that the yacht would sink under them—maybe she’d figured out that moored the way they were, everyone would be able to get to shore without trouble—

But the yacht would be useless, and the family would look ridiculous.

His jaw hardened at the thought. He had to stop this.

He and Cass were pressed against the wall farthest from the main doors, through which people were now streaming. Uniformed crew members were urging people to hurry, but also making calming gestures. His youngest brothers were helping—Johan held the arms of an elderly couple and Viggo had a kid on each hip as he followed the children’s mother out one of the side doors. Kristoff couldn’t see Mack or Arne, but they were probably up to their necks in Aegirians too. Alek and Mother—and Dr. Hayes too—were being whisked out, judging from the clump of black-clad bodyguards pushing their way through the masses.

There was so much chaos it was almost impossible to hear anything specific. But Britta was still turning in a circle, screaming her brother’s name. When Hans appeared out of the crowd, she threw herself at him, her expression angry and terrified all at once.

With her brother pulling her towards the door, she turned back to Kristoff and pointed one long finger at him. She screamed, “I’m done with you horrible people! You can’t say that to me, and then try to kill me, and still expect me to work for you!”

As she disappeared into the mass of frantic guests, Kristoff felt his heartbeat slow. Everyone was safe. Everyone was getting off the yacht. But the yacht itself…

“I have to get to the engine room.” He looked down at Cass. “Do you want to go with your father?”

Her arms tightened around his middle, and she lifted herself up on her toes. “Is he safe?” She had to yell to be heard over the alarm.

Kristoff nodded. “As safe as my mother is.”

“Then I want to go with you.”

Thank God. He didn’t waste any time, but pulled her towards a service door set into the back wall. There’d be a corridor back here which led—ah, yes, good.

“We can take this to the engine room,” he called as he hurried up the corridor, pulling her behind him. It was easier to speak in here, because the alarm was muffled by the rooms on either side.

She had her dress in one hand and had already kicked off her shoes. “Why would a prince know about the behind-the-scenes parts of a ship?” she called in a teasing tone in between gulps of air.

When they came to a steep staircase he dropped her hand, but slowed slightly so she wouldn’t tire herself out. They began to climb.

“Viggo and Johan used to get lost in here all the time, playing hide and find. Mack and I had to rescue them on more than one occasion—it’s what made us both fall in love with boats, I think.” That, and the fun they used to have paddling around on the lake up in the mountains as kids.

“So,” she panted behind him, “You’re pretty sure you know where we’re going?”

“The engine room’s up this way.”

“And what can we do that the captain can’t? I mean, shouldn’t he already be there?”

“He should be, but then he would’ve toned down this alarm.”

At the top of the stairs he pushed open the door in time to see someone in dark clothes disappearing around the corner up ahead. Who the hell is that? The engine room was this way, but the man—had it been a man?—was heading towards the galley. Maybe he was lost, but what was he doing back here?

“Kristoff?” Cass called from behind him, and he shook himself and started for the engine room access.

The door was locked from this side.

As he threw the lock, Kristoff glanced once more down the corridor. Had that person locked the engine room for some reason? What—

Oh.

As soon as they slipped inside, several things became obvious at once.

The reason no one had turned down the alarm was because the on-duty crew member was lying on the floor, his hands bound with zip ties and a big bruise on his forehead.

The reason the captain wasn’t there was because the main door to the engine room was jammed with a broom, and Captain Nilssen was yelling angrily on the other side while someone jiggled at the knob.

And the reason the yacht was sinking was because some idiot had opened all the seacocks.

“Cass!” he yelled as he pointed to the door, trusting she’d know what to do. He leapt towards the control panel, but hesitated, his fingers hovering. Where’s the command? He’d been up here before, spending time at the helm while Captain Nilssen watched closely on their family outings, but the seacocks had never been part of his instruction—

There!

He flipped the proper toggle switch, and the light turned to green. Belowdecks he could imagine the machinery churning to force the seacocks closed, to trap in the water already inside. The yacht was sitting much lower in the water, but at least it wasn’t actively sinking anymore.

Kristoff breathed a sigh of relief as the captain burst in—his XO hot on his heels—and lunged for the “Abandon Ship” alarm. In the sudden silence after he flipped it off, Kristoff swore he could hear all of them breathing.

“Does anyone have scissors?”

Cass’s question, asked in a low voice from the floor, seemed to break the spell. He turned to see her bent over the crew member who’d been wounded, and the yacht’s executive officer fumbled a knife out of his pocket and sunk to his knees beside the man’s wrists.

Kristoff crossed the room in two strides and pulled Cass to her feet, wrapping his arms around her and breathing gratefully the scent of her hair. They were alive. They were safe—all safe now.

Belatedly, she began to shake, and buried her face in his chest. He stroked her back and made soothing noises, trying to maintain his own composure.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Beside the control panel, Captain Nilssen was already flipping and punching various buttons, presumably to get the yacht back to proper trim and out of the danger zone. Still, he took the time to nod to Kristoff over his shoulder.

“I’d sent a man to find a way into the service corridor and let us in, but thank you for getting here first,” the older man said stiffly. “Did you see who did this?”

Kristoff shook his head. He hadn’t seen anyone well enough to identify him or her. “The door to the corridor was locked from that side.”

“The bastard.” Captain Nilssen turned back to the board and his frantic efforts. “Anders, get on the horn and alert whoever’s outside—the police, even—that some terrorist attempted to scuttle my ship!”

As the XO leapt to do as the captain ordered—leaving the crew member sitting up, groaning and holding his head—the old man glanced over his shoulder at Kristoff once more.

“Your quick thinking likely saved us. Who knows how much damage would’ve happened while we waited for Hagen to find a way in?”

Kristoff nodded back, not sure he could trust his voice to say, “You’re welcome.”

With the captain poking buttons and cursing under his breath once more, Cass made a sound which could’ve been a laugh or a sob.

“You’re a hero.”

“I don’t feel like a hero,” he whispered, completely honestly. “I was terrified.”

“We were all terrified, but you did something about it. You saved the day,” she said against his chest.

He gave a little snort of laughter. “My brother saved the day by punching a man so hard he died—did you know that? I saved the day by flipping a toggle switch.”

“You’re my hero.” She leaned back far enough so she could look up at him, without loosening her hold on him. “I love you, Kristoff.”

And suddenly he wasn’t so terrified anymore. Despite her grip on him, and his on her, the band around his chest eased. “You do?” he asked, a smile already tugging at his lips.

“I do.” Her eyes were serious. “I love that you love me despite all my imperfections, and I love how caring and open and real you are. You’re true to yourself, even if it’s not the way I expected a prince to act.”

He was strapped into a tuxedo and these formal shoes pinched his feet. “I would much rather be on my boat.”

“Or rock climbing?” she teased.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Or getting a massage from you.”

She lifted herself up on her tiptoes. “Or in bed?”

He was smiling when their lips met.

And so was she.