Impossible heir for the.., p.1
Impossible Heir for the King, page 1
Maia didn’t know how to answer Niko.
It wasn’t that she’d feared a pregnancy might be unsafe—she’d feared she might not get pregnant at all, what with how irregular everything was. Yet now she was apparently pregnant and she hadn’t slept with anyone!
Niko waited, clearly wanting something from her, but she didn’t know what it was. His gaze on her intensified. “I would like you to have this baby, Maia.”
The thought that she wouldn’t hadn’t even occurred to her. That reply came instantly to her lips. But she bit it back. She needed to understand more. While what he’d just said sounded conciliatory—a request not an order—she suspected that was somewhat foreign to him. Sweat slid down her spine. She was pregnant with a king’s baby. What would he want from her? How did he see this moving? She needed to ascertain how far he would take his control and power over her. So she gestured around the room’s palatial splendor. “Do I really have a choice?”
Innocent Royal Runaways
Royally bound...to a king!
Kings Niko and Luc are best friends and brothers in honor. They are two very different leaders who rule two very different kingdoms. One lives in the cool mountains of Europe, one in the hot heart of the Pacific. But they are both united by their dedication to duty and their people.
Only neither have factored desire into the equation... And that’s exactly what Maia and Zara bring to their lives. Desire so intense that, even when they try, it’s impossible to outrun and impossible to hide!
Read Niko and Maia’s story in
Impossible Heir for the King
Available now!
And discover Luc and Zara’s story
Return of the Long-Lost King
Coming soon!
Natalie Anderson
Impossible Heir for the King
USA TODAY bestselling author Natalie Anderson writes emotional contemporary romance full of sparkling banter, sizzling heat and uplifting endings—perfect for readers who love to escape with empowered heroines and arrogant alphas who are too sexy for their own good. When she’s not writing, you’ll find Natalie wrangling her four children, three cats, two goldfish and one dog...and snuggled in a heap on the sofa with her husband at the end of the day. Follow her at natalie-anderson.com.
Books by Natalie Anderson
Harlequin Presents
The Night the King Claimed Her
The Boss’s Stolen Bride
Billion-Dollar Christmas Confessions
Carrying Her Boss’s Christmas Baby
Rebels, Brothers, Billionaires
Stranded for One Scandalous Week
Nine Months to Claim Her
Jet-Set Billionaires
Revealing Her Nine-Month Secret
The Christmas Princess Swap
The Queen’s Impossible Boss
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
For the incomparable Louise—we might have polar-opposite processes but what giggles, support and inspiration we do share! I cannot thank you enough. Here’s to all the joy.
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EXCERPT FROM A RING TO CLAIM HER CROWN BY AMANDA CINELLI
PROLOGUE
‘HOW WAS IT possible for such a mistake to be made?’ Niko Ture, King of the North Pacific nation of Piri-nu, stared at his most trusted soldier waiting for an explanation he knew could never be satisfactory. ‘The level of incompetence is beyond comprehension.’
‘Agreed,’ Captain Pax Williams answered.
Niko—far more emotional—reeled as a raft of possible appalling consequences struck him. ‘Was it an accident or was this deliberate?’
‘The investigation is underway. I only found out through a security contact at the clinic who spotted the anomaly.’ Pax bent his head. ‘But—’
‘We need to bring that woman here now,’ Niko interrupted sharply. ‘I need to know. Where is she? Who is she?’
Wordlessly his captain handed him a slim file. Irritated, Niko flicked it open and skimmed the sparse text, frowning at the highlighted points.
‘I’ve tracked the vessel she’s aboard,’ Pax said. ‘With your permission I’ll lead an extraction team at 0400. We’ll have her at the palace before dawn.’
Niko stared at the photo of the young woman, still thunderstruck at the information he’d just learned. Nondescript, frankly dull-looking in those loose black clothes, he ordinarily wouldn’t give her a second glance. But this was no ordinary situation. Apparently—impossibly—this plain woman might be the mother of his unborn baby. ‘I’m going with you.’
He knew Pax was about to argue and he lifted his head and stopped him with a look. ‘I’m boarding that boat. You would too, if you were me.’
Pax stared back for a split second before inclining his head. ‘Of course, sir.’
Niko looked again at the face of the young woman who was somehow caught up in a palace intrigue of epic proportions. Was she innocent or was she guilty?
There was only one way to find out.
CHAPTER ONE
MAIA FLYNN FASTENED the scarf holding her hair out of the way and sighed at the bane of her life. The coffee machine’s regular temperamental performance issues were always worse when someone else had tried to use the thing. Late last night someone clearly had, given grounds were scattered over the galley. They’d left the resulting chaos for her to clean. Nothing new there except today that stale coffee smell was particularly nauseating. Yet it was a shame she didn’t drink the stuff. She could do with a caffeine kick because even though she’d slept through the midnight coffee-making mess, once more she hadn’t had enough sleep. She felt constantly tired from the pressure of too many guests, too much stress and no end in sight. She ought to be used to it, but in the last few weeks her baseline fatigue level had only worsened.
Ignoring her father’s miserly ‘not for the crew’ rules, she poured a little glass of the premium pineapple juice reserved for their wealthy—invariably rude—guests. Then she pulled her favourite whittling knife from her pocket and the small wood block she’d been shaping in her limited spare seconds. She needed a moment of mindfulness before dealing with the destruction caused by the spilled coffee. But as she focused on the blade a muffled thud sounded from an upper deck. She paused warily. The guests shouldn’t wake for a couple of hours yet, which meant it might be her father, the captain of this ‘luxury’ yacht. Though generally he didn’t surface this early either. Holding her breath, she listened intently but after a few seconds there was nothing more. She sipped some juice and turned back to the wood. This was her favourite part of the day—pre-dawn—when the sky gently lightened before the slow emergence of the sun. It mattered little that she could see it only from the small porthole in the galley. It was the only time she had to herself, it was peaceful and she always felt a hit of optimism—today might be different.
In reality she knew she faced a relentlessly long day prepping food for the guests and the crew. She rarely left the boat that had been her home her entire life and while she yearned to escape, it wasn’t possible yet. Not when she had nowhere else to go, no money to get there with and no formal qualifications to ‘prove’ her skills and get another job. It wasn’t like her bully of a father would ever give her a reference. He’d be too furious that she’d dared walk out. But she needed to find a solution soon both for her independence and her health. She wished she’d been able to consult the doctor when they were last on shore but her father had phoned in the middle of her appointment and she’d had to leave before getting the results of the few tests they’d been able to complete—
There it was again. Another sound out of place, so soft she almost didn’t notice it. But a sixth sense struck, shooting sensation down her spine. She whirled to face the doorway, knocking the glass of juice as she did. She suspected it might be a still-drunk guest from last night coming for something to eat.
It wasn’t.
For a split second she stared at him—stunned and ignoring the smash of the glass and splash of the juice at her feet. Tall, lean, clad entirely in black—from the close-fitting skullcap to the mask covering his mouth—he even had some kind of stuff smudged on his skin to obscure what little of his face remained visible. Horror hit. He looked like a mercenary. But for an infinite second his brown eyes bored into hers—as rich as the coffee grounds, only far warmer. They locked on her and a lightning strike of something hit.
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream. Then she remembered what she held and lifted her knife, amazed her hand wasn’t shaking.
‘Don’t. Don’t be scared,’ he whispered, holding his hands wide in surrender. He didn’t move a step nearer. ‘It’s okay.’
It wasn’t okay. But she froze, trying to understand why he was here, why he was hesitant—why he almost looked worried. Maia lifted her chin and pret
She stepped backwards. He still didn’t move but his gaze was intent upon her. Emboldened, she moved faster but the spilled juice proved treacherous. Her foot slid out from beneath her and despite her sudden lurch she couldn’t recover. She whacked her wrist on the bench as she flung out her arms to stop her fall. The knife clattered as it hit the floor. But she didn’t. Because in the swiftest move she’d ever seen a man make he caught her.
‘Easy, easy. I’ve got you.’ He lifted her effortlessly. Lifted her close. So close.
She grabbed hold of him—tightly—instinctively relieved she’d not fallen. Instinctively reaching for strength. His hands gently, swiftly moved over her back, both pressing her into his chest and checking she was still all in one piece. It was oddly—crazily—comforting.
‘Okay?’ he muttered.
She could smell the sea, mixed with something spiced—something her senses decided was interesting. She closed her eyes and tried not to breathe—not to notice the appalling, raw appeal of him as he pulled her more tightly against him. This was the closest she’d been to another human being in a very long time and it was freaking her out in all kinds of ways. Struggling to process what was happening, she froze when she heard a low murmur from behind her and then felt an answering vibration in his chest. He was talking to someone else and she was too stunned to even understand the words. But she understood that there was more than one of them. Which meant this was a raid. Probably for the cash they suspected they carried on board. The perils of a gambling cruise alone in the northern Pacific Ocean. Her father had a gun and wasn’t afraid to use it, but somehow they’d snuck aboard unseen. Which meant they had skills.
Panic finally fired adrenalin through her. She had to fight for her life. She wriggled and managed to lift her head and stare up into his eyes.
‘No,’ she muttered and drew breath to scream.
But he was swift again. He clamped his hand over her mouth. She twisted her chin and locked her teeth on the flesh she found. She bit. Hard.
He flinched but didn’t release her. He merely pulled her back into his body.
‘Please, don’t,’ that deep voice roughly whispered into her ear. ‘I’m not here to hurt you, Maia. I’m so sorry, but there’s no choice. We’re leaving. Now.’
He knew her name?
She was so shocked that her body slackened—releasing her jaw she collapsed against him so completely that he had to widen his stance to stop them stumbling. Now both his arms were around her again and it felt so shockingly secure that she didn’t even think to scream. She sensed rapid movement around her. In seconds someone from behind her taped something over her mouth and dropped a dark cloth over her head, blackening everything while the first man still held her. She felt him draw a deep breath and mentally willed herself to become a dead weight that would be impossible to lift. Only he hoisted her in his arms like she weighed little more than a small seashell. He didn’t toss her over his shoulder in the classic firefighters hold but cradled her against his chest—as if she were something delicate and precious. It should be cumbersome yet they were moving. Fast. Up the stairs and outside—she felt the lightest breeze before they moved down again almost immediately. They were leaving the boat. He held her tighter still as the world lurched and heaven help her, she curled frightened fingers into his top and burrowed her head against him, seeking the stability she sensed within him.
After what felt like an age of chaotic movement, he finally sat while still cocooning her in his arms. He rested one arm heavily over her legs while the other was a steel band clamping her against his chest. In the silence she heard his heartbeat steadying and his calm, determined breathing. He was measuring his own response. Suddenly she felt oddly safe.
She’d lost it mentally, surely. She had her mouth covered and was blindfolded. She had no idea who he was or where he was taking her. To have Stockholm syndrome in less than twenty seconds had to be some kind of record. Just because he smelt good and had meltingly deep brown eyes, solid, warm muscles and had offered an apologetic whisper... Her suddenly sensual response was dreadfully inappropriate. She forced herself to focus beyond her personal sensations.
She heard the quiet splashes of an oar in the water. Yes, there was definitely more than one of them and she was definitely in danger. She shivered, shrinking inwardly.
His arms tightened fractionally. ‘I promise I’m not going to hurt you, Maia.’
That really was a hint of regret in that rough whisper.
Who was he? She didn’t recognise his voice. She didn’t think he was ex-crew or a previous guest. What did he want with her?
This had been perfectly planned and executed. But why? She didn’t think anyone much knew who she even was. So, either there’d been some kind of mistake or she’d been cased as an easy target for trafficking. Yet that wasn’t an issue in these parts. Maybe she was to be the first.
Sure, she already was a slave of a sort for her father but she wasn’t in physical danger with him—that threat was more emotional. But this man? She grew even more hyper-aware of his hard-packed muscles and the all-encapsulating size of him and that faint scent sea-spray and mouth-watering spice. That sensuality resurged. She shrank further in on herself to try to stop it. And all that resulted from her doing that was that he held her closer still as if he were wordlessly wrapping comfort around her. And then he offered the words too—as if he could read her mind.
‘You’re safe,’ he said huskily. ‘I promise you’re safe.’
She didn’t know how long it was before he lifted her too easily again. She was only a few inches shy of six feet—taller than many men so this was a weird feeling of weightlessness and a complete loss of control. There was only a moment of rocking, uncertain movement before he sat again, keeping her locked in his arms the entire time. She heard an engine roar to life and knew she was now aboard a bigger boat. Sure enough, she could feel the hull of the speedboat smacking against the water as it raced forwards. Wind penetrated the hood on her head. The man who held her remained utterly silent this time.
Then whispers. Orders. Movement around her. She was carried again—heard not just his footsteps but several people’s. Car doors. Motion at speed. Still silence.
She briefly felt the sun on her arms before it went cold. Then they’d entered a building. Maia was exhausted but he’d held her all this time—surely he must be exhausted too? Then she heard only his footsteps. He set her down on something soft and finally released her. She stiffened—stupidly scared by losing the reassurance of his embrace. What was going to happen now?
‘Wait here, Maia.’
His footsteps receded. A door closed.
Her hands were free but Maia remained frozen, desperately listening to determine if she was truly alone. At last, she lifted the hood from her head and blinked rapidly, adjusting her eyes to the bright light of day. She winced as she peeled the tape from her mouth and then stared, shocked. This was no grimy basement. There were no chains or ropes or anything of nightmarish horror awaiting her. This room was resplendent. She wasn’t on a bed but a plush sofa and other sumptuous lounge seats faced her. Was this some fancy hotel?
I’m not going to hurt you, Maia.
That rough promise rang in her ears but she’d been afraid to believe it. But this room threw her off balance. Ornate wooden carvings decorated the doorways—she knew the skill with which they’d been carved and while the furniture she sat on was modern and comfortable, there were antiques in the corners and art on the walls that weren’t hotel standard. They were national gallery–worthy. A film of sweat slicked across her skin. She was so far out of her league. There were three doors she could try but she figured they were probably locked or guarded or both. She edged towards the wide window to see what she could from there instead.
Maia was used to pristine views of Pacific beauty. It was the clues on the land that made her jaw drop and there was one very big clue right in the middle of the immaculate gardens below her. A tall pole with the flag of Piri-nu barely fluttering in the still warmth.
