A Royal Mess: A Royal Mess / Her Knight To Remember. Jill Shalvis

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A Royal Mess: A Royal Mess / Her Knight To Remember - Jill Shalvis

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godmother. Complete with fairy dust.

      Sometimes Natalia was still convinced. Mostly, she had accepted and was just grateful. “I’m okay,” she agreed, looking around at the flattest landscape she’d ever seen. And in case Amelia had grandiose ideas of sending escorts, Natalia hurriedly added, “More than okay.” Another clap of thunder shook the ground beneath her feet. “P-p-perfect, in fact.”

      “Hmm.” There was a long pregnant pause, in which, clearly, Amelia expected Natalia to spill her guts.

      Tempting, but she managed to keep her mouth shut—barely.

      “We’re here if you need us, Natalia.”

      “You mean if I’ve screwed up.”

      “‘Screw up’ is not a very princesslike term.” Amelia’s voice was diplomatic, and contained the hint of an indulgent smile. “But if you need anything, anything at all, I’m just a phone call away.”

      Natalia knew that. Probably she wouldn’t even have to make that call, Amelia would just know. What a comfort that was. Her throat tightened just thinking about how much she was cared for. She cared for them in return, and making them proud was her biggest goal here. She could do this, she could do anything. After all, she was a princess. And maybe, just maybe, she would have a little adventure while she was at it.

      “Natalia? This week you wanted all alone, it’s a long time for someone like you. There’s no shame in that.”

      “You mean someone inexperienced in the real world.”

      “If you need anything…” Amelia repeated calmly, refusing to be baited.

      “I won’t. You understand this, Amelia, don’t you?” Natalia needed to hear her say it. More than she’d known.

      “Yes, sweetness,” Amelia said, her voice softer now. “I understand. This is a way to prove yourself. You’ll do great. Just keep your head.”

      “I can do that. See you soon.”

      “See you soon, lovely.”

      Natalia hugged the phone close to her heart, as if she could retain the warmth and love. And she could, if she closed her eyes and concentrated—

      “Do you have the time?”

      Natalia nearly leaped out of her skin at the voice. It was a young man, in his early twenties, looking like he’d skipped far more than just lunch. His face was gaunt, his head and hair—if he had any—were completely covered in a knit beanie despite the humidity. And his eyes…sparkled with malice.

      Uh-oh. Her heart started a rapid tattoo. Why hadn’t she told Amelia where she was?

      Because she could handle this, that’s why. And besides, as irrational as it sounded, Amelia probably already knew.

      Much calmer than she felt, she said, “The time? Why, yes, I do…” Please, go away. She twisted her wrist to check. “It’s just after three—Hey!”

      He snagged the carry-on, the jacket over it and the purse she still had on her shoulder.

      And tugged.

      “Oh, no you don’t. Those are—” She stopped shouting at him to get a better grip on her purse. “Mine.”

      “Let go!” he growled, playing tug-of-war with her.

      But her fear turned to temper. Clearly, he had no idea who he was messing with and how much she’d already faced in one day. It gave her an unbelievable strength. “I’m not letting go, you…you miscreant!”

      “Hey, I’m robbing you here.”

      “No you’re not!”

      He looked so utterly surprised, she nearly laughed. And held on like a pit bull.

      “You’re supposed to freak out,” he grated. “Cry. Scream. Not fight back! Jeez, haven’t you ever taken a self-defense class? They don’t advise you to fight back!”

      “I’m not going to freak out, I’m going to fight, and then I’m going to turn you in! Now you let go!”

      For what seemed like forever, they grappled with her bags, until, with a loud screech, Natalia lost the game and her grip. Freed, she promptly toppled backward over the bench, ass over kettle, landing incongruously in the dirt.

      Meanwhile, her thief, who took the time to stop and grin triumphantly in her face, took off with her beloved carry-on, her purse and her bus ticket.

      And her pride.

      3

      BY THE TIME Natalia—sputtering in a very unprincesslike manner—scrambled to her feet and jerked down her skirt, the young man was but a blur on the horizon. All she could do was watch in disbelief as he ran away, her bag banging against his thighs as it had banged against hers all day long.

      She hoped it left one hell of a bruise.

      “Idiot!” she yelled. “Moron! Jerk!” Sagging back to the bench, she wondered who she was calling names, the thief or herself.

      A drop fell from the sky, hitting her on the nose. The storm that the airline had been threatening her with all day had finally arrived.

      Another drop. Then another. The sky lit with a long jagged flash of lightning.

      And Natalia stood there, stunned stupid by the events of the day. She was out in what felt like the middle of nowhere, with no identification, no money and even worse, no makeup, not even a brush. She should call on the credit cards, but then again, at this moment, even that seemed like too much effort.

      Rain fell. Leather wet was a whole new, uncomfortable experience. Lightning flashed again, punctuating the disaster her life had become.

      Perfect. Now she was going to get struck by a bolt and get amnesia. That would top things off nicely.

      You’ll do great. Just keep your head.

      At Amelia’s words, spoken in her wonderful British accent, Natalia whipped around, but of course, Amelia wasn’t standing there.

      It was just that her voice had sounded so…real. But Natalia was alone, utterly alone. It must be the self-pity, she decided, causing her to hear things. Because surely, not even Amelia could be that…magical.

      She should just call home with the cell phone still in her pocket. But that put a sour taste in her mouth because darn it, she wanted to do this.

      Her hair was beginning to unspike, and her clothes were plastered to her like a second skin. She had no idea what should come next. Maybe a hero on a white steed. Wouldn’t that be handy.

      A rumble sounded. Not a white steed, but a truck, rumbled up the street. It nearly passed her, until, with a quick brake, it came to an abrupt halt right in front of her.

      Her heart leaped into her throat, but she reminded herself she had nothing left for

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