Dara’s head. The baby shifted and snored on.
“Why aren’t you taking the stuff Dr. Pohl prescribed? Don’t shrug again or I’ll pull all your long, beautiful hair out.”
She snorted. “You don’t scare me, you’re getting slow in your old age. And you know why.”
“Well, maybe I haven’t bounced back from the baby as fast as I—”
“It’s kind of late for jokes.”
“It’s kind of late for anything. And here you’ve got a perfectly good prescription for sleeping pills in your…oh, God, you’re just like your brother! He wouldn’t take a Tylenol for an amputation. You guys.”
“What?”
“Come on. I get the whole ‘we’re a rugged band of royals who carved a country out of the harsh wilderness’ bit, but would it kill you to pop an Ambien?”
“I don’t have trouble getting to sleep,” she pointed out. “Just staying asleep. And I’m sorry I woke you.”
Now it was Christina’s turn to shrug. “It’s no big deal. I won’t have trouble getting back to sleep,” she added, raising her eyebrows. She softened a bit when Alex made no reply. “Well, I normally would, too, tomorrow being the big day and all, but I didn’t get a nap today and—never mind, it’s boring. In fact, never mind about all that…listen, why don’t you take her back to bed with you? That works sometimes.”
Alex grinned a little. “You’re just trying to sleep in.”
“Well, it’s a handy bonus, I must admit. Besides, the thing doesn’t even start until…what? Noon?”
“One,” she corrected. “Sounds like someone hasn’t read her program.”
“Great, one, even better. Hey, you just have to change her and feed her and entertain her until I wake up…say, eleven-ish?”
“Nine.”
“Done.” Christina bent forward and planted a soft kiss on the baby’s head. “Luck getting some Z’s. Don’t squish the baby.”
Offended, she said, “I would never.”
“See, you’d have a better sense of humor if you were getting a couple more hours a night.”
“Hush up.”
“I’m just saying,” Chris said, backing away.
Alex took Dara back to her room, carefully laid the baby on the left side of the bed (the bed had been pushed against the wall months ago for that express purpose), tossed all the pillows on the floor just in case, and pulled a blanket up to the middle of the baby’s back. Dara snored on, oblivious.
Five minutes later, Alex was doing the same.
Chapter 2
It was like any other family event—except with royals. The Baranovs ( those who had read their schedules) were assembled in one of the many side corridors, waiting.
“I can’t believe,” Princess Kathryn, fourth in line to the Alaskan throne, whispered, “there’s hardly anybody here but the family.”
Prince David, first in line to the throne, grinned. He looked more relaxed than anybody could ever recall; the general consensus was that marriage and fatherhood agreed with him immensely. He was wearing a dark gray suit with a royal blue shirt and a gray tie dotted with tiny rockhopper penguins. His shoes, thanks to a tireless staff, were shined to a high gloss. David, thanks to a royal upbringing, didn’t notice. “Hey, Chris insisted. No press, no big deal, no fuss, no—you know.”
“I know what she insisted on,” his sister replied. Kathryn was six months away from ridding herself of the hated braces, and was the promise of truly breathtaking beauty, with the classical Baranov coloring: sinfully dark hair, enormous, crystal blue eyes. “Like I said, I just can’t believe she pulled it off.”
“Dad’s fond of her.”
“Tell me. It’s like having the sister I never wanted,” she added with a mock sigh.
They were standing in the left foyer of the palace chapel, where Prince Nicholas (sixth in line to the throne) quickly joined them.
“Are we ready? Is everybody here?”
“Well,” David said, “the baby’s not here. And Chris isn’t here. And the Alexes aren’t here. And Dad—”
“Cool your jets, everybody,” the king said, stepping in through a side door, his majordomo, Edmund, right on his heels. “I said I’d be here, didn’t I? Right? Right. So what the hell’s the holdup? Can we get this over with, please? Now? Please?”
“How did you get him into that suit?” David asked, losing his usual smooth manners and gaping at his father.
“A crow bar,” Edmund replied smoothly. “Are we ready to begin?”
“Well, the godparents aren’t here.”
“Ah.” Edmund pretended to consult his program, when everyone in the room (possibly the palace) knew he’d been the one to write it. “Prince Alexander and Princess Alexandria. And where is Her Highness, Princess Dara?”
A shrill whistle burst through the air and they all looked through the foyer door, across the front of the chapel, and into the opposite door, where Christina was holding the baby and waving madly.
“She came in through the wrong door,” Edmund sighed.
“She probably didn’t read the—I mean, she probably didn’t pay attention to—” Princess Kathryn blushed to her eyebrows, then added, “I mean, doesn’t she look gorgeous? Purple is definitely her color.”
“Kid looks like an eggplant with arms,” the king muttered, sticking a finger under his collar and giving it the tenth wrench of the morning. When David swung around, eyebrows raised, he hastily added, “A good-looking eggplant. Jesus! Can we please get the fucking show on the road? I could be in a fishing boat right this minute.”
“Don’t say ‘fucking’ in church, Dad,” Nicholas corrected, running a hand through his cap of blonde curls. He was the only child of the king who looked nothing like his father. It had caused some trouble in the past; the late queen had been known to dally with men not her husband. “We’re just waiting on the Alexes. You’ll be on a boat by three. Suppertime, prob’ly, at the latest.”
The king wriggled in his suit coat. “I hate these things.”
“We all do, Dad.”
“Shush, Your Highness. Your Majesty, stop fidgeting or I shall defect instantly to America.”
“Ha! That’s a bluff I’ll damn well call!”
“Shhhhhhhhhhh, Dad!”
“Don’t shush me, you little creep, you’re not too big to spank.”
“I’m
