on Chantaine. I don’t suppose your brother experienced a sudden wave of compassion, or just a rational moment and has decided to pardon Paul Lafitte.”
“You don’t need to insult Stefan,” she said. “My brother is just defending my father’s honor.”
“Even though Stefan wouldn’t have been born if your father had married Amelie,” Nic said.
“Yes, I know it’s not particularly logical, but the point is I have found this house. Your mother wants more time in Chantaine. Staying there can make it happen.”
“You still haven’t addressed the issue about my father,” Nic said.
“Well, I thought we could work around that. Your mother mentioned that he broke his foot, so it’s not as if he’ll be able to tour much. When he does, perhaps he could wear a hat and glasses.”
“And a fake mustache?” he added, rolling his eyes. It was a ludicrous plan.
“I know it’s not perfect,” she said.
“Far from it,” he said.
“But it’s better than nothing.”
“I can’t take the chance that my father will end up in jail.”
“Perhaps that’s not your decision to make,” she countered, surprising him.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean shouldn’t he be given the choice?” she asked. “Besides, your father’s presence may never be discovered. It’s not as if there are copies of his photo posted everywhere the way you do in the States.”
“It’s called a Wanted Poster, and they’re mostly just displayed in post offices and convenience stores these days. We’ve progressed since the Wild West days,” he said.
“Exactly,” she said. “And so have we. No one has been beheaded in over one hundred and fifty years, and we haven’t used the dungeon as a prison for nearly a hundred.”
“Why don’t I feel better? I know that Chantaine doesn’t operate under the policy of innocent until proven guilty. Your judicial system, and I use the term loosely, moves slower than the process of turning coal into diamonds.”
“I didn’t call to debate my country’s judicial system. I called to offer a place to stay for your mother and father. If you want it, I shall arrange to have it cleaned and prepared for them. Otherwise…” She paused and he heard her take a breath.
“Otherwise?” he prompted.
“Otherwise, ciao,” she said and hung up on him.
Nic blinked again. Princess Pippa wasn’t the rollover he’d thought she was. He downed the rest of his exquisite Scotch, barely tasting it. What the hell. She had surprised him. Now he had to make a decision. Although his father had caused trouble for the entire family, Nic felt protective of him, especially in his father’s current state with his broken foot and his grief over Amelie.
Nic closed his eyes and swore under his breath. He already knew how his father would respond if given the choice of risking prosecution in Chantaine. Paul Lafitte was a blustering bear and bull. He would love the challenge… even if he was in traction and confined to the house.
Raking his hand through his hair, he knew what he had to do. He walked inside to the stateroom lounge where his father dozed in front of the television. A baseball game was playing and his father was propped in an easy chair snoring.
Maybe he should wait until tomorrow, Nic thought and turned off the television.
His father gave a loud snort and his eyes snapped open. “What happened? Who’s ahead?”
“Rangers,” Nic lied. The Rangers were having a terrible season.
“Yeah, and I’m the Easter bunny,” his father said.
Nic gave a dry laugh. His father was selective with the use of denial, and apparently he wasn’t going to exercise that muscle with the Rangers tonight. “Good luck hopping,” he said. “You need anything to drink?”
“Nah. Take a seat. What’s on your mind? I can tell something’s going on,” he said, waving his hand as if the yacht belonged to him instead of Nic.
Nic sank onto the sofa next to his father. “I got an interesting call tonight.”
“Must have been a woman. Was she pregnant?” his father asked.
Nic gave a short laugh. “Nothing like that. I’ve been offered a cottage where you and Mom can stay. On Chantaine.”
His dad gave a low whistle. “How did you manage that?”
Nic shrugged. “Lucky, I guess. The problem is you still have legal issues in Chantaine.”
His dad smiled and rubbed his mouth. “So I do, and punching Prince Edward in the face after he insulted your mother was worth it ten times over.”
“Easy to say, but if you stay in Chantaine, there’s a possibility that you could get caught.” Nic shook his head. “Dad, with their legal system, you could be stuck in jail for a while.”
“So?” he asked.
“So, it’s a risk. You’re not the young buck you once were. You could end up stuck there while Mom is…” He didn’t want to say the rest.
His father narrowed his eyes. It was an expression Nic had seen several times on his father’s face. The dare a pirate couldn’t deny. He descended from wily pirates. His father was no different, although his father had gotten caught a few times. “Your mother wants to rest in Chantaine. We’ll accept the kind offer of your friend. To hell with the Devereauxs.”
“Might not want to go that far,” Nic said, thinking another glass of Scotch was in order. “A Devereaux is giving you the cottage.”
“Well, now that sounds like quite the story,” his father said, his shaggy eyebrows lifted high on his forehead.
“Another time,” Nic said. “You need to rest up for your next voyage.”
His father gave a mysterious smile. “If my great-great-grandfather escaped the authorities on a peg leg, I can do it with a cast.”
Nic groaned. “No need to push it, Dad.”
The next morning, he dialed the princess.
“Hello,” she said in a sleep-sexy voice that did weird things to his gut.
“This is Nic. We’ll accept your kind offer. Meet me at the cottage and I’ll clean it. The less people involved, the better.”
Silence followed. “I didn’t think of that,” she confessed. “I’m accustomed to staff taking oaths of silence.”
He smiled at her naïveté. “This is a different game. Too many people need to be protected. You, my mother and father. We need to keep this as quiet and low-profile as possible.”
