Page 78 of One Last Stand

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Page 78 of One Last Stand

The guard opened the door at the end of the hall.

“Besides, my mother is the ambassador. No need to start a squabble.”

“We did break into the palace.”

The guard directed them to an elevator, pressed the button, and then invited them inside when the doors opened.

They rose a number of levels, and the door opened to a hallway with a deep-blue carpet and gilded walls, with ornate molding around the windows, and gold wall sconces that held faux candles. Chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, and through the leaded glass, the village was dark.

Weird.Shouldn’t lights be on in the village below?

They followed the guard down another hallway, then stopped at a door and knocked.

It opened, and another blue-uniformed guard looked at them, nodded, and stepped aside.

Shep glanced at the sword sheath hanging from the man’s belt. Talk about playing the part.

The office bore all the vestiges of a royal space, from the deep-blue velvet draperies that framed two tall windows that overlooked the city, to a painting of some ancient ruler dressed in the deep blues and gold of the royal colors that overlooked the domain from between the windows.

A bookcase held trinkets—probably gifts from visiting dignitaries. Silver bowls, an ivory statue of an elephant, an intricate filigreed wooden sailing vessel, what looked like a totem pole, a glass vase, a couple lion bookends, even a Russian samovar and a nephrite egg.

An exquisite polished-walnut desk sat in front of the windows. A gold carved crest of Montelena inlaid the desk’s paneled front, an elaborately carved trim twining along the top and sides. A couple tufted leather chairs faced the desk, and a matching executive chair pushed up behind it.

An office befitting a ruler.

And the ruler? Standing near the floor-to-ceiling bookcase, hands clasped, wearing a sweater, a pair of dress pants. He had a distinct Henry Cavillness about him—tall, broad-shouldered, a cleft chin, a chiseled jaw, dark eyes, a confidence in his expression, which now bore a slightly tweaked smile.

“Your Royal Highness,” London said, and Shep just stopped and stared as she curtsied.

Prince Luka raised an eyebrow at Shep, who tightened his lips, then bobbed his head.Whatever.

London stood up, and Prince Luka directed his attention to her, his smile widening. “Delaney, darling, if anyone is permitted to break into my palace, it’s you.” Then he walked forward, his hands out, leaned over, and kissed one cheek, then the other. He glanced at his guard. “Uncuff her.”

The man took out a clipper and relieved her of her cuffs.

Shep stood there watching as London ran her hands around her wrists, over the cuff marks. “Thanks. And sorry. We weren’t trying to break in—someone tried to shoot us.”

“What?” Prince Luka took her hand. “Are you okay?” He spoke fluent English, maybe because London had addressed him in English.Manners.

“Yes. Shep saw the door in the rock, and he—we—got it open and used the tunnel to escape.”

Shep kept his gaze on Luka.Um, cuffs, buddy?

Apparently His Highness wasn’t keen on freeing him. Still, the prince glanced at the guard and nodded.

A clip, and Shep was rubbing his wrists too.

“Now, again, someone wasshootingat you?” The prince had a distinctly highbrow, almost British accent, perhaps with a small amount of eastern European thrown in, which only added to his royalness. “Ma chérie,that is disturbing.” He took her hand and directed her to a chair.

Oh, and of course he spoke French.

Shep folded his arms, remained standing.

“Are you sure?”

“We’re sure,” Shep said, and Prince Luka looked at him.

“And this is?”




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