Royal Escape #5: Royal Escape, #5

By Renna Peak and Ember Casey

Their time at Wintervale Manor has convinced Clara that Nick is still haunted by his past—and his three devilish royal cousins aren't helping. But she's willing to try anything to get Nick to face his ghosts, even as life at Wintervale gets more complicated...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Casey Peak Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Aug 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386680314

Book preview

Clara

Nick looks at me as if I’ve just torn his world apart. And I guess I have. But what did he expect, proposing to me for real ?! This was the last thing I thought would happen, especially after the last couple of days.

I stumble to my feet. I love you, Nick. You know that.

He doesn’t say a word as he staggers to his feet beside me.

"This doesn’t mean I might not want to marry you someday," I insist.

His face is hard. Exactly how many times do you expect a man to propose to you, Clara? Or do you prefer I beg you? That didn’t work so well with Adam.

That’s not fair, I tell him. Adam and I were… I shake my head. I’m not going down that rabbit hole, not right now. "We’ve only known each other a couple of months, Nick. I’ve only known that you’re a prince for about a week. I’m still processing this whole royal thing. But even disregarding that, how can I accept the marriage proposal of someone who’s obviously still hung up on his ex?"

Anger flashes in his eyes. I’m not hung up on anyone!

Do you really believe that, Nick? You won’t even say her name in front of me. You blow up when your cousins take us within sight of her house. What am I supposed to think? You won’t even tell me who she is!

I think I’ve had quite enough of this, Nick says, striding away across the grass.

I start to follow, then stop. What’s the point? The damage has been done. I’ve refused his offer, and he’s too stubborn to understand why. There are tears on my cheeks, and I wipe them away in frustration.

Stupid man! I think at his retreating back. Stupid, idiotic man! Can’t you see you’re causing your own pain? And mine? I want to scream at him. I want to shake him until he sees the truth. I don’t pretend to be an expert on relationships—my experience with Adam is proof enough that I’m not—but Nick’s issues are obvious from a mile away.

And I’m beginning to wonder if he’ll ever face them.

There’s a knot of pain in my stomach. My heart nearly fluttered right out of my chest when he wanted to put that ring on my finger. I want to be with him. I haven’t even begun to fathom what a life with him might mean, but I know I want him. I know I love him.

But I’m done with relationships built on imagined foundations. I want something real. And Nick isn’t offering that.

My eyes begin to burn again, and I turn away from the direction he’s gone. I need to stop torturing myself. I need to be away from him for a while.

This clearing is lined with trees, and I move toward them, just wanting to put as much distance between Nick and me as possible. The sun is high in the sky—it must be nearly noon—and the birds twitter overhead as if there are no cares in the world. They have no idea.

I march through the woods, trying to fight back the tears that still pool in my eyes. Trying to convince myself that I’m not as stubborn and idiotic as Nick. Trying to pretend this will all magically work out somehow.

I’m not sure how long I walk before the tears dry up. The lake disappeared from sight long ago. The trees are all starting to look the same. But I keep going. If nothing else, the exercise is helping clear my head. And being among the trees is peaceful, in its way. It’s funny, but a year ago I would have said I hated the outdoors. When I lived in New York, I could never understand the people who claimed they hiked or camped for fun. But after my time in Montana, things have changed. Now I appreciate the fresh air and the sounds of nature.

Finally, when my feet start to ache, I find a big rock and sit down.

Who is she? I find myself wondering. Will I ever get the chance to meet the woman who did this to Nick? Will I ever get the chance to understand? I’m sick with curiosity.

The masked ball might be that opportunity—assuming Nick and I are still speaking then. If he leaves again, then I see no reason to stay here anymore. I’ve given him plenty of chances to tell me the truth. If he runs away, then I have my answer, as painful as that is to admit.

My eyes start to burn again, so I squeeze them shut tight until the feeling goes away. Don’t do this to yourself, Clara. Don’t torture yourself needlessly.

When I open my eyes, the world seems a few shades darker than before. I glance up, and I realize I no longer see patches of blue showing through the branches of the trees. Instead, the sky is gray. A moment later, rain begins trickling down through the leaves.

I guess that’s my cue to go back. With a sigh, I pull myself to my feet. When I glance around, though, I realize I don’t remember which direction I came from.

This is why New Yorkers don’t hike, I think, turning slowly and looking for anything that seems familiar. I could find my way anywhere in Manhattan without even trying, but it’s laid out on a nice, simple grid. The woods aren’t that accommodating.

There’s a twisted tree to my right that I think I remember passing. That’s as good a direction as any. The rain has started to come down a little harder, and lingering here probably isn’t the best idea.

If I’d been smart, I’d have kept the lake in sight, I think, starting through the trees. If I find the lake again, it will be easy to follow the path back around to the manor. I might be soaked by then, but at least there’s a huge fireplace in my suite.

The rain begins to fall even harder. And in the distance, I hear the low rumble of thunder.

Think of the fireplace, I tell myself. Think of the nice, hot bath you’re going to have when you get back. Think of the cup of hot tea you’re going to drink.

I quicken my pace through the trees, praying I’m going the right way.

Nicholas

The sky darkens as I trudge back in the direction of the manor.

Let it rain, I think. Let it rain so hard the ground opens and swallows me whole.

I will never give my heart to another woman. Look at what happens when I do—they take it and stomp on it. It isn’t worth being vulnerable—ever.

She said no. There’s no denying the pain in my chest, as though someone has stabbed me and left me bleeding and raw. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I can’t believe I actually thought Clara loved me.

I’ve been a fool for the last time. I’m uncertain of what I should do now—there is still business to attend to in Wintervale, and as soon as that is completed, I suppose I should return to the palace and report to my father. After that…I’m not sure. My heart aches to return to my ranch in Montana, but what would be the point? Clara won’t be there—and my horses are somewhere en route to Montovia. I’d be all alone.

And isn’t that what I wanted in the first place? Perhaps a few months of being alone—actually alone—wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It might actually help me sort my thoughts—and to figure out where I went wrong this time. I’m obviously not cut out to have a true romantic relationship. I clearly cannot read women—I’d thought for certain that Clara shared my feelings. But I was wrong.

Again.

I’m not about to make the same mistake twice. It isn’t worth this sort of torture.

The rain begins to fall as I near the manor, and I steel myself when I see my cousin Caspar waiting near the entrance.

He walks out into the rain to meet me. Where is your betrothed?

My spine bristles at his words—he wasn’t eavesdropping on our conversation, was he? I clear the thought from my head—how could he have arrived back at the manor if he was with us at the ruins?

I merely shake my head at him. If I so much as speak Clara’s name, I’m not certain I can hold myself together.

She isn’t with you? He glances up at the sky. The storm is supposed to be terrible—we’ve been warned there may be some flooding.

I look over my shoulder toward the lake, part of me hoping that Clara followed me here but stayed out of my view. But there is no sign of her.

Something pangs in my gut at the thought she might be lost—and in another rainstorm, no less. I turn back to my cousin. We parted at the ruins. I’m not sure which direction she might have gone.

Caspar frowns, his brow furrowing. It’s pointless to mount a search party if we’ve no idea which direction she went.

I feel another pang—this time, I’m certain it’s guilt. Why didn’t I take note