Was it his father? Was this the end? The questions swirled in his mind, but Marco didn’t slow and never said a word. He hadn't even asked for an introduction to Kristin, though the glint in his eyes gave away his interest.

They arrived at the medical ward and his heart nearly stopped. His father. He had so much to say and he wasn't ready to lose him yet. Marco opened the door and instantly his mother, Queen Anna Camilla, stood from her chair while she wiped her eyes with a tissue. The sick bed was behind the white partition, just out of view.

This must be bad news. Why hadn’t they called him? His mother opened her arms. "Antonio, there you are at last."

Not even his mother's arms around him made the hole in his heart lessen. He massaged her shoulder and asked, "Mother, what happened?"

She pointed toward the sheet and the corner of the bed that peeked from behind the white curtain. "It's your father!"

No. He felt like a lost ten-year-old who called for his parents to find him in an open market. He stood stiff, not ready for this. To be king. To lead his country. To lose his father. He choked on his words. "Did he..."

"Son?" His father's raspy voice made Antonio’s hair stand on end. Alive? He was alive!

His heart soared as he walked forward, pulled the curtain, and stepped closer to the bed and looked into his father’s warm amber eyes. King Leopoldo looked weak and fragile, when in Antonio's memory he was larger than life. He slumped into the seat beside the bed, took his hand, and tried not to cry. "Father."

Leopoldo tapped his hand and asked in a weak tone, "Is it true you brought an American here to be your bride?"

His father coughed and the boom took over the room.

Antonio stood abruptly. "Save your voice. Yes, I did."

His mother's words echoed from behind them. "Politically, are you sure she's the best choice, son?"

According to his team of experts, yes. Politics had been part of the calculations he put into play. "Mother, our people are choosing between communism and capitalism. In marrying an American, I'm proving my capitalist leanings."

With less than sixty days in which to find a miracle, he had made a logical choice. Their gray-haired mother leaned on Marco’s arm, her blue eyes wise. "Half of the country doesn't have the same value."

“Less than half, Mother.” Antonio was the Crown Prince of Aussa and understood his responsibilities. "It's my job along with the rest of our family to ensure our people win the votes this fall.”

“We’re in trouble if the communist agenda becomes the reality again,” Marco said.

True. King Leopoldo had pledged their personal bank accounts to rebuild Avce. Antonio was now guardian and he didn’t take the burden lightly.

“We’d go into exile without a penny." His mother straightened.

His younger brother shrugged. "I liked England."

"Marco, this is our home." Their mother scolded her youngest son and came closer to the bed. Antonio backed away to let his mother have his spot.

His brother stayed near the door, acting like he hadn’t a care in the world as he leaned on the frame. "I saw your Kristin. I must say she's quite pretty. Was that one of your factors after all?"

His search had included looks as well as brains, but nothing prepared him for actually meeting Kristin Wells. He hadn't told her about his bride-finding software, not that he was sure she’d care. But he’d hate to hurt her feelings when they were just getting to know each other. "I wasn't going to marry just anyone. She had to be nice enough to look at."

Marco patted his back. "Well, I can't wait to have a conversation with her, at dinner."

“Take care what you say.” Their parents spoke quietly at his father's bedside. Antonio glanced at his brother. "I still have to convince her to marry me."

"She hasn't agreed?" Marco asked with surprise. “So why is she here?”

If his father survived, he could go a few weeks and give her time to adjust. At least until his birthday. He still had no choice to marry, but it wasn't a minute-by-minute scare and he could now offer her an actual ceremony.

Plus a few days to convince Kristin would be very pleasurable. He looked out the window to the maze in the green garden. "No, not yet. I’m giving her time to get the tour first before the ring goes on her finger for life. Now that Dad is awake, we can get married in the church where Mary had it snow."

Their mother turned from their dad’s bedside, intending to join them. Marco had no care for decorum as he said, "So you figure one trip around the rose garden and a dinner in the east wing tower and she's yours."

Antonio rubbed his chin. "Dinner in the tower, alone. Thanks for the tip!"

Marco's lips wouldn't quite close. He stood there with his head tilted as he stared at him. "Wait. The playboy prince is actually trying to seduce this woman?"

His father's weak voice carried across to them. "She must be pretty then."

Antonio felt like a twelve-year-old. His face was probably crimson. "Father, we should not be having this conversation at all. You need your rest."

His mother made a tsk sound and guided both of them to the door. "Your father is still in danger but the doctors agree that it's much more likely he'll have a full recovery so long as nothing upsets him, or causes him undue stress."

Antonio called out, "Father, I'd prefer to remain the Crown Prince for a while and not King—rest, please."

His father yawned. "Bring the American to meet me."

"Yes, sir." Antonio followed his mother and Marco out of the room.

Once the door clicked closed, he stared at the empty walls that once had held family portraits. The communist regime had smashed them or sold them. Now the long hall was clean, well maintained with powder blue walls, but he always felt this place was missing something. His father restored order, but he’d like to replace or find a few stolen pieces of their art. And if he hung Kristin’s beautiful portrait in the hall near the grandfather clock, he’d see her just as she was right now. He shook his head. He'd not think about that. "Mother, I should go check on Kristin and her best friend, Renee."

His mother snapped her fingers. "Yes, please have them prepare for dinner. I'll ensure a variety of dresses are sent to their rooms."

Kristin had packed herself, one suitcase only. Would she be offended if suddenly his mother sent her a wardrobe, with instructions? "How did you know they'd need dresses?"

His mother shook her head. "I've never met an American with one travel bag that brought the right clothes to meet a Queen. Americans tend to either overdress for the occasion or even worse, underdress. If she is to be your bride, then I want the world to see her as perfect. I will offer my assistance."

Staff must have told his mother what Kristin carried, and if she’d unpacked any clothing worthy of note. Perhaps it was best to talk to Kristin about his mother's plans for a dress? If he made the rules, she could wear jeans because she had the perfect shape that showed off her curves in the ones she wore last night, but for now, they were talking a family state dinner. He nodded. "Thank you, Mother. I will talk to her."

His mother returned to his father's room. Antonio walked down the hall, intending to knock on Kristin's door. He made it ten feet down the blue hall when his brother called out, "Antonio!"

"Marco." He stopped and waited for his brother to catch up.

"The other one you brought with her. What's her deal?"

He hadn't researched Renee other than the fact Kristin wasn't friends with known criminals. "Renee Brown, Kristin’s best friend. She's a teacher out for her summer break."

Marco crossed his arms. "Well, I'll be sure to keep her busy so you can win over your computer date."

Computer. He'd have to find a way to tell Kristin, but he wasn't sure how. "About that..." Perhaps his brother might hold his tongue. "Please do not mention the search I ran to find Kristin."

They walked down the hall together. Marco asked, "Does that mean you didn't tell her?"

"No." It shouldn't be a big deal. Lots of people used Internet searches to find what they needed and he’d needed a wife. Everything he did had been logical.

At the door to the grand hall, where ancestors threw elegant galas and the paint had specks of gold embedded, Marco asked, "Then why does she think you flew across the globe and asked her to marry you?"

Marco used to be the better brother. Lucio was the one he'd never completely trust because he suspected a trick. However, Marco currently acted more like Lucio. "Because she applied for a job. Secretary. She knows I actually required a wife."

He blinked and didn’t move for a second. Finally he nodded. "I'll keep your secret, but you must tell her the truth."

There was the helpful Marco he remembered. Antonio took a deep breath. "I will, when the time is right. When I'm alone with her..." She made him forget the rest of the world. He pressed his lips together and refused to say anything like that to his baby brother. He wasn't soft and never had been so that would have been out of his normal. "Never mind."

Marco's gaze narrowed. "Never mind what?"

Now he had to say something and it wasn't going to be to tell Marco that Kristin made him forget because her lips tasted sweeter than any chocolate. He crossed his arms and chose his words. "She's nice. I like her."

Marco covered his lips though Antonio knew he held back a laugh. "You like her. Well that is an improvement. I hope she says yes then. Maybe Mom won’t demand you marry Sophia."

Her name alone made him want to curl up and run, which was exactly what he'd done when they were thirteen and his mother had introduced her. "Sophia?"

Marco nodded. "Didn't they tell you? She's in the castle, staying with us and still available."

Those sounded like his mother's words. There was no way he'd marry Sophia Venko, even if her own mother had been tossed aside because his father chose to marry Anna Camilla. Antonio was not the one to fix a wrong in the past with his own hand. "I'm sure she's hanging out with your friend Victor Amadeus. They seem friends now, and besides, she's the last person I’d ever marry."

"They are still friends." Marco continued, "She's been a possibility since you were thirteen. You must have realized that Mother would bring her here now in desperate times."

It was terrifying that his mother didn't realize that he’d never tie the knot with Sophia. His pulse quickened when he thought about Kristin's lips. It was past time he saw her and spent the day convincing her to be with him. "I'm going to see Kristin and tell her about this dinner, and then I'm going to keep her out for the rest of the day."

"Have fun. I'll entertain her friend." Marco nodded. "Because I'm the good brother."

“It doesn’t hurt that Renee is very pretty.” Marco still had two years until he would be forced to wed. He had time to have fun and sow his oats. Antonio did not, but it no longer felt like an executioner’s blade aimed for his throat. If he married Kristin on his terms, he'd have everything he ever wanted plus more. He had a mission and nothing was going to stop him.