The Rebel King

‘Pardon me for being underwhelmed by thirty-six hours spent in lawyers’ offices, limousines, consulates and jets. We were forced to leave our home and life without warning, pushed into limos and jets without consent, told we had to obey the will of a king we knew nothing about. We’ve been bowed and scraped to wherever we go, “Your Highnessed” to death, had “this is a royal secret” slammed into us every thirty seconds. If I was given any choice in any part of the past thirty-six hours, I might have chosen to listen,’ Kyriacou—Charlie—snapped. ‘I’m not a puppet whose strings you can pull, and it would be good for you if you remembered that…Your Majesty.’

More silence, as everyone held their collective breath, waiting for the king’s reply. If Jazmine didn’t have self-discipline, she’d have closed her eyes. The new Crown Prince of Hellenia was a moron, unable to follow simple instructions or to know one always respected royalty.

Grandfather’s eyes narrowed. ‘You will learn differently, Kyriacou. My word is law in Hellenia. I can force you to return to your obscure life without the benefit of your great-grandfather’s fortune. Don’t embarrass me publicly, boy, or you’ll regret it.’

‘With respect, Your Majesty, bring it on,’ Charlie returned without a blink, or lowering his voice. ‘I was enjoying my life until yesterday. Obscurity and the single life suit me right down to the ground. Maybe you should find a new heir, Your Majesty, because I’m nobody’s idea of a duke, let alone a prince—and bringing me here is the furthest you’ll manipulate me.’

It took all Jazmine’s self-will not to gasp. Instead of being intimidated, the new heir met ice with fire—and a tiny part of her, the rebel she’d submerged years ago, wanted to cheer him on.

Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as she’d feared. And maybe there were possibilities in this. If he could stand up against the old autocrat and hold his own, he could be perfect for her purpose. If she could bring him to see what he could accomplish for Hellenia…

Her brain began buzzing with plans.

A royal staffer stepped into the breach, performing his assigned duty with no sign of discomfort. Every inch the Oxford-trained gentleman. ‘Your Royal Highnesses, may I introduce you to Jazmine, the Princess Royal, and Maximilian, the Grand Duke of Falcandis?’

Perfectly done. His name was not to be mentioned until the important personages were introduced. Diplomats and royal staffers knew how to blend in.

‘Your Highness.’ Giulia dipped into another curtsey. ‘Your Grace.’

Max smiled but remained silent, waiting for the first in precedence to speak.

Jazmine smiled with genuine pleasure at Giulia. ‘Please don’t curtsey to me. And call me Jazmine.’ She kissed Giulia’s cheek with warm welcome.

Giulia smiled back. ‘My father was an only child, and my mother’s relatives were all still in Greece, so I’ve never had a cousin, Jazmine, but I’ve always wanted one. My brother tends to be a bit overprotective.’ Those glorious eyes twinkled at her brother, who merely grinned. ‘My friends call me Lia.’

It seemed their lives were more alike than Jazmine had anticipated. She too had grown up with her relatives far away; she too had lost her mother at a young age, and had longed for a friend, a confidante, who belonged in her life. ‘Perhaps we should be thinking of each other as sisters, Lia.’

‘I’d like that.’ Lia’s face lit, as if Jazmine had offered her a fortune.

Without warning, her throat thickened. How long had it been since she’d had a simple offer of friendship from a person she could trust? But, much as she wanted to explore a friendship with Lia, her duty wasn’t complete.

With some trepidation she turned to Charlie, allowing none of her concerns to show in her face or voice. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather not think of you as a cousin, Charlie.’ She held out her hand to him. ‘I don’t think it would bode well for the future.’

To her surprise the new prince took the extended hand, and grinned as he shook it. He drawled in a mock-Southern accent, ‘Smacks too much of hillbilly movies and all them there in-breeders?’

Caught out, she did laugh this time. ‘Well, we’re only third cousins.’

Suddenly Jazmine needed a long, cool glass of water. Her mouth and throat had dried, watching that dark, dangerous face soften with the sexy Marandis smile. His voice was rough with the Australian twang, deep and intensely masculine. Suddenly it made the cultured accents of the men she knew sound, well, namby-pamby. And she was having the strangest reaction to the feel of his hand in hers.

For the first time in years, her self-control vanished and she had not the slightest idea what to do or say.

‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered softly as he pretended to kiss her cheek. ‘This isn’t your fault. I’ll find a way out of this crazy situation.’

She blinked, stared, opened her mouth and closed it. Where had her famous self-composure disappeared to when she needed it?

Max’s smile told Jazmine he’d seen her reaction to the new prince. Taking the focus from her, he moved forward to meet the new arrivals, shaking hands with the right degree of friendly welcome.

‘We will take tea.’ The king turned towards the stately sandstone house—the Marandis summer palace since the eighteenth century—before anyone else could speak.

The smile vanished from Charlie’s face. He nodded, as if his permission had been sought, and turned to walk with Lia into the house.

Despite his being a firefighter, obviously taking orders wasn’t something he enjoyed, though he seemed to know to choose his fights and bide his time.

Though that meant more work whipping him into shape, the complex nature of the new prince seemed to fit into her very personal agenda for the future of Hellenia. A modern hero with rebellious tendencies— as shown by his rescue of the children in Australia—and knowing when to keep silent, was exactly what her people needed.

She turned to follow her grandfather, taking Max’s arm. Then she remembered, and turned to Charlie to walk inside first. He was Crown Prince now, and above her in station.

He took his sister’s arm and stood, waiting. ‘I was brought up to allow ladies—and princesses— to go first.’

The words told her more than she wanted to know. He had no intention of accepting the title, or becoming a part of the royal family. He wanted to return to Australia as soon as possible. He’d soon learn it wouldn’t happen. Royal families didn’t belong to themselves, or have the luxury of independence.

As Max took her arm, he whispered, ‘I suspect life is about to get interesting. Our new prince is a firecracker. Good luck with that.’

She stifled a laugh. ‘I suspect you’re thanking the gods for your changes, now you’ve seen Lia.’

‘She certainly is lovely,’ he murmured, ‘And smooths over the waves. Good manners and well brought-up. Just what every man wants in a wife.’

Jazmine caught the irony in his tone. If Max resented being a slave to royal duty, he hadn’t shown any sign of it in the past few months—but then, how could he until now?

‘If the sister was well brought-up, what happened to the brother?’ she whispered.

‘By all accounts, his grandfather never bowed to the will of the crown,’ Max replied, just as softly. But as they passed through the grand double doors to the ballroom-sized chamber known as the tea room, she saw Charlie stiffen.

Max ushered her into the room. ‘Well, you can’t fault his hearing. You might want to keep any future liaisons—’

‘I’m not biting.’ She smiled sweetly at him. A prince in waiting and a gentleman to the core, Max had always enjoyed putting the cat among the pigeons.

Max grinned. ‘You can’t blame me for trying. It doesn’t appear as if my future bride has the Marandis fighting spirit your future king has in spades. I fear she’ll make me a poor opponent.’

Jazmine shook her head. Having read the investigative reports into the brother and sister, she doubted Lia lacked anything, including spirit. Her story of anorexia survival proved that, but Max would have to find out in his own time and way.

Grandfather waved them all into chairs facing him. By the way he drew himself up and refused to sit, he was about to hold court, as he called it.

She called it laying down the law.

‘Tea,’ he ordered a servant, who bowed and disappeared. The room emptied.

To Jazmine’s surprise, Charlie took a seat beside her. He was glancing from her to Giulia—who sat on Jazmine’s other side—but his expression didn’t change. He still looked grim and protective.

‘We will have no public displays in future of family discord, Kyriacou.’

Grandfather never descended to such terms as ‘do you hear me?’ As king, he could enforce his word with the full force of the law, even in the twenty-first century. He believed the Hellenican people liked it that way.

Jazmine had other ideas, but they’d remain her own until she was queen. If she became queen. She kept her gaze on the man who held her entire future in his hands.

Charlie was sprawled in his chair, watching her grandfather with polite interest, as if the king was an unusual exhibit at the zoo. ‘It’s been a long time since anyone defied you, I’d guess, Your Majesty.’

Grandfather put a hand on the back of the carved-oak chair. His brows lifted a touch. ‘Certainly.’