Princess Wanted - The Complete Book Set: An Alpha Billionaire Prince Trilogy (4 page)

Chapter Three - Africa

I
t could be a curse having a face like that of Prince Lukas. Not all the time, of course, he was willing to acknowledge that his face had done him some favors. Popular opinion seemed to be that it was a handsome face, which came with definite advantages and he had explored those advantages pretty fully in his life thus far. It would perhaps be nice if, more often, people looked beyond his face to whatever might lie behind it but, as a young man, he had cared about that comparatively little. He was not complaining about the aesthetic qualities of his face: it was a good face and it would have been ungrateful to say otherwise. The trouble was that it was also a very recognizable face. This had been a problem throughout his life. He was relatively comfortable with being popular because his face was attractive, he was less comfortable with being popular because people knew who he was. Whenever he met an interesting woman he was forced to ask himself: was she interested in him or in the crown, the notoriety, the money. If everyone knew who he was, then how was it possible to take that out of the equation? And the older he got, the more he wondered, because he had become gradually less comfortable with people liking him because he was handsome. It wasn’t
his
fault! He had developed a three-tier system to categories women who showed an interest in him: those in it for personal gain, those for whom he was just a pretty face, and those who actually seemed to like him as a person. It was hard to gauge that sort of thing, but he was pretty sure that the top tier was occupied by somewhere between few and none of the women he met.

Until recently.

Emma had hated him almost on sight, which took his undeniable good looks out of the equation. And she had clearly had no idea who he was. She had not known that he was wealthy, a media darling or royalty. And because they had been out in the middle of nowhere and not at some fancy reception with the eyes of the world upon him, he had been able to be himself around her - a luxury to which he was unused. There seemed no other conclusion: she had liked him for himself. Which made what had happened all the more tragic.

When he had run off to Thailand, Luke (as he now preferred to think of himself) had done so with no real plan other than to get away from a marriage that was profoundly convenient to his royal family and profoundly distasteful to him. He had known Princess Anya since she was a little girl and, though she was generally (and accurately) rated to be one of the most beautiful women in the world, that did not stop her from being a crashing bore and an appalling snob. Having grown up in isolated privilege, shielded from the darker side of the world, Luke was willing to admit that there was more than a bit of snobbery in him, so for him to say that someone else was a snob meant that they really were a Snob. He had begged not to marry her, he had pleaded; but no one had listened. And, if he was honest with himself, that was at least partly his fault. He had exploited his wealth and position all his life, especially where women were concerned. He was seldom out of the tabloids, and while his parties stopped short of debauchery, the general feeling was that they did so only by the narrowest of margins. He had done nothing in his life to deserve his family’s trust.

Until recently.

Luke genuinely felt that his work in Thailand had been worth something. For the first time in his life,
he
had been worth something. And it had been because of Emma. She and he together would do great things. What a Queen she would make. He felt it was a pretty good case when he made it to his family, but they were having none of it. The marriage ball started to roll once more, inexorably barreling forward and threatening to squash Luke, like Indiana Jones at the start of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Which was why he was currently seated on a plane arriving into Kenya, wearing a false beard to hide that inconveniently recognizable face of his. His first choice of places to run was, of course, New York, but since he had spent the last month talking about Emma, that would be the first place they would look. The second would be Thailand. Kenya would be way down the list. And it had elephants.

The situation with elephants in Kenya was different to that in Thailand. There, the problem had largely been elephants being used as tools, here it was poachers. Such was the value of African elephant ivory that poachers were happy to kill whoever stood in their way to get it, up to and including volunteers. But Luke found himself not really caring. A life married to Princess Anya? A life in which he did nothing but sit on a throne and occasionally wave? That was no life at all. He was better off here.

He made it all the way to the ranger station at the edge of the vast wildlife preserve without being recognized, but as he entered he heard a dreaded word.

“Luke?”

He looked the other way. How had they seen past the false beard? Maybe they hadn’t. Luke was a common name.

And then he realized that Luke was indeed a common name, but it wasn’t his. Who would be calling him Luke?

“Luke.”

A hand touched his shoulder and Luke turned to see a familiar face.

“Mike.”

But that familiar face was blanched, a bandage tied around the forehead.

“You’re too late,” said Mike, shaking his head heavily.

“What?”

“How did you even know she was here?”

“What? Who?” Luke’s mind raced. “Emma? She’s here?!”

“You didn’t know? Then what are you…”

“Where is she?!”

Again Mike shook his head. “We were out in the reserve, at the elephant hospital. Poachers attacked. I got hit on the head and woke up here.”

“And Emma?” Luke knew what he would hear even as he asked.

“Wouldn’t leave the elephants.”

On the one hand, Emma considered, this was not what she had signed up for. She had known that it was a risk, but in that oblique way that you know running across a road is not safe but being hit by a car is something that happens to other people - right up until it happens to you. The poachers had gone for now, but they would be back tonight, when it would be easier to kill the elephants and take their tusks. Having first gunned down the rangers and any volunteers foolhardy enough to stay. That was what was going to happen and not a person in the elephant hospital displayed any hope that things might go down otherwise.

On the other hand, she had barely thought about Luke all day. It wasn’t much of a silver lining, but she had come here to forget him so: glass half-full.

She stared out beyond the fences of the compound to where the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon. Not long now. There was still some ammunition left and the handful of rangers who had chosen to stay would certainly make a fight of it, but they would be hopelessly out-gunned.

Emma turned her gaze to the elephants who milled around, quietly unware that they were approaching the end of their lives. How was it possible that anyone would want to hurt such creatures?

As night fell, a generator spluttered unwillingly into life and electric lights cast a pallid glow about the compound.

The first gunshot made Emma, jump out of her skin. They were coming. This was it.

“What is that?” One of the rangers lifted his head. “That sound.”

In the brief time she had been here, Emma had grown accustomed to the many noises of the reserve by night, and this did not number among them. But it was a sound she knew. A sound which recalled the worst night of her life and yet now sent reluctant hope scurrying up her spine.

“Is it possible that the poachers have helicopters?” she asked.

Moments later the squadron of helicopters swept into view, powerful searchlights piercing the night, picking out targets on the ground. Ropes were slung from the open doors and dark-clad men dropped to the earth, unfastening weapons as they went.

“They look pretty professional,” said one of the rangers, watching with an enormous grin on his face.

“In the war, the Nazis never took their country,” said Emma. Why did she feel such pride saying that?

One helicopter continued on to the compound itself, where it descended to land.

Emma watched; heart in her mouth and yet unsure what she even wanted to happen.

The now-familiar dark-clad men sprang out and hurried to secure the perimeter. One, however, stopped and looked about him: a tall man with a confident bearing.

“Emma!”

At first Emma didn’t answer. This was the man who had let her down, who had tricked and used her, who had left her heartbroken and bereft, whom she had tried so hard to forget. But it was Luke.

“Luke!”

At the sound of her voice Luke turned and, for the first time, caught in a wandering searchlight, Emma saw his face and saw the smile as he recognized her. He ran towards her and only then did Emma realize that she was already running towards him. In an instant they were together, locked in each other’s arms and kissing, the tears that ran down both their faces mingling.

As they broke, Luke looked her directly in the eyes. “I can explain everything.”

“You don’t have to. I trust you.”

A phone call from Prince Lukas was enough to get the army to Kenya, but in truth they were there, not to rescue anyone from poachers, but to bring their errant Prince back home again for his wedding. As soon as he had heard that Emma was in danger, Luke had known what he had to do, but he had also known the inevitable outcome.

“Can’t you abdicate or something?” said Emma desperately, as she and Luke spoke under the watchful eye of a dark-clad soldier, who was not letting his prince out of his sight.

“I’m not King,” shrugged Luke.

“Princes can’t abdicate?”

“No.”

“Can’t you run away?”

“Tried that.” Luke shook his head. “Twice. Always ends up the same. And the truth is: I don’t want to let my country down.”

“So you’re just going to marry someone you don’t love?”

Luke nodded gloomily. “I don’t see any way out of it. Our countries are very big on tradition.”

“How big?” asked Mike.

“What?”

Mike stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Just an idea, but… Yeah, it might work.”

Neither royal family was happy about it, but there did not seem to be anything they could do: a royal princess could not marry a divorced man, even if that man was a Prince. They tried to argue that a marriage conducted by an elephant welfare volunteer who used to be a priest, did not count, but it was a half-hearted attempt and every court said that the marriage was legal. So the marriage held, and since no royal Princess was able to marry Prince Lukas, the family decided to let bygones be bygones and accept his wife: Princess Emma of New York.

That, Emma decided, would take some getting used to. As would the fact that she was suddenly more affluent than she could ever have imagined being. The situation recalled to her mind the conversation she and Luke had had back in the bar in Thailand and came to the conclusion that, if she was going to be able to sleep at night, then changes were going to have to be made. She was not yet sure what all those changes would be, but if the world did not become a better place under the rule of King Lukas and Queen Emma (when in the fullness of time they came to the throne) then it would not be for want of trying.

In the meantime there was one more pressing matter to settle. Their marriage in Kenya might have saved them but it had been somewhat rushed and a second wedding - one which family and friends could attend - seemed like a good idea. The ceremony took place at an elephant sanctuary in Thailand, Luke’s two brothers acted as his Best Men (choosing being too awkward), Mike was on hand to organize things. And their ring-bearer was an elephant named Tosca.

Unbridled

Love

By

Autumn Star

An Alpha Billionaire Prince Series- Book 2 – The Race Track Winner

Chapter One - Prince Christof

I
n a strange way, Prince Christof’s presence in the first-class section of a plane heading for the United States was the responsibility of a baby elephant. It was a baby elephant which had brought together his brother Lukas and the woman whom Lukas had gone on to marry, and it had been at their wedding that Christof had placed a bet on which of the ladies present would catch the bride’s bouquet - a bet which had lost him the equivalent of five thousand dollars, US. Christof felt strongly that this was not his fault; it would not have happened if the bride’s cousin had not been far quicker on her feet than any form guide would have rated her – he could hardly be held responsible for that. Also, the loss was not that great a one to a royal Prince, even if he was prince of a country so small that maps felt embarrassed about acknowledging its existence and so seldom bothered. Never-the-less, Chris (as he preferred to be called) was aware that his father had strong feelings on the subject and had decided that an impromptu holiday might be a good career move. He hopped a plane before the last dance, leaving a polite note to wish the happy couple all the best on their honeymoon.

Which precis should explain why a baby elephant was at least partially responsible for Chris being on the plane. He had hunch that, when he spoke to his father (something he had no plans to do until there was an ocean between them), blaming an elephant would not wash. Although he might give it a try; he was running low on excuses. He settled back in his seat, enjoying the extra leg-room that first-class afforded, sipped at his martini and returned to his book.

The book in question was a collection of short stories by Damon Runyon (best known for having written the story on which the hit musical Guys and Dolls is based). Runyon was Chris’s favorite author; the man painted a fantasy world of New York in the 1930s, a world of gangsters and their molls, of bootleggers and their dames, a world where gambling was a profession. Characters in Runyon stories would bet on anything: cards, dice and horses of course, but also whether a guy could take a doll to Havana or a pie-eating contest. It was a life that Chris envied and one to which he aspired.

Gambling is not strictly precluded, nor even frowned upon, in royal circles. Indeed, gambling on horse racing is practically obligatory, and Chris had grown up around his father’s impressive stable. Chris’s family had no problem with him gambling
per se
, their problems were that a) he was addicted to it, and b) he was terrible at it. Perhaps it was because he had always had money but Chris had never been one of those gamblers who spent time studying form, checking the weather or gleaning tips from those in the know, he was one of those gamblers who went with his gut. He was also one of those gamblers who enjoys losing almost as much as winning on the basis that, if he had just lost, then the odds were increased that he would win next time and so, logically, he should bet more. Had he not been a member of one of the ruling houses of Europe, Chris would have bankrupted himself long ago.

“Ladies and Gentlemen we will shortly be beginning our descent into New York.” The pilot’s announcement sent goose-bumps tickling across Chris’s skin. How had he never done this before? How had he not previously made this pilgrimage to his personal Mecca: New York. He should be thanking that baby elephant.

New York boasts four famous racetracks and it was to Belmont that Chris made his way, and it should be taken as a measure of how much he enjoyed himself that, by the end of the day, he had lost one hundred and seventy five thousand dollars. He was therefore in buoyant mood as he headed for the exit. But then his eyes happened to fall on a woman beyond the fence dividing spectators from participants, and Chris’s life changed. He had never seen anything more beautiful. Chris had never believed in love at first sight, but even at this distance, Chris knew he was in love.