realized that the robe was close to Harold.
He followed her eyes and whisked it up.
“Can I have that please?”
“Of course.” He began to move forward.
“Just throw it to me, and get right out.”
“You want me to walk out of that door?” he said indicating the door to the outer chamber.
Dottie froze. Out there was a lady-in-waiting, on night duty, and in the corridor outside were two footmen. No way could they be allowed to see Harold leaving her bedroom.
“Leave the way you arrived,” she insisted. “Come to think of it, how did you arrive?”
“You don't pay your maid enough.”
“You bribed her?”
“It's the simplest way. I got here before you, using the rear corridors. She let me in, I went out to wait on the balcony and she left the windows unlocked, I just crouched down behind the parapet. I thought we could talk better like this.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“I think you have. You like being crown princess,
I've seen it. As my consort, you'll still enjoy all the goodies. We'll both gain.”
“Marry you?” she said in a voice of pure scorn. “You're the last man I'd ever marry.”
“My dear, I'm the last man you'll have the chance to marry. Soon everyone will know that I'm here. You'll have no choice. But let's make quite sure, shall we?”
He moved fast but Dottie was faster, slicing her hand across his nose in a swift movement that made him squeal like a pig.
“Right,” he said, speaking rather nasally, “if that's how you want it I'm happy to oblige.”
Ducking her second blow he grasped her shoulders and pulled her hard against him. At such close range she couldn't fight effectively, and it seemed that nothing could stop him lowering his mouth to hers. He was getting nearer…
“Leave her alone.” It was Randolph's voice that cracked like a whip from the shadows.
He stepped forward into the light, his face livid. Behind him Dottie could see four other men.
Time stopped. Dottie freed herself from Harold's frozen hands and stepped back. Cornered, Harold stared around at them all with loathing.
“You're fools, all of you,” he raged. “You give your loyalty to that?” He pointed at Dottie. “That? A queen? She's a barmaid, that's all. A cheap, jumped-up little barmaid, giving herself airs. And you fell for it.”
Randolph started forward with murder in his eyes, but Dottie moved first.
Her knee came up sharp, hard and aimed with deadly accuracy. Harold fell onto the bed, clutching himself and moaning, while she regarded him with satisfaction.
“I wasn't a barmaid for nothing,” she observed.
A cheer went up from her defenders. They laughed and applauded while Dottie clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.
“I shouldn't have said that,” she squealed, looking in horror at Randolph.
But he too was laughing. “We are all your friends here,” he said. “And we're all proud of you.”
As if to prove it the men applauded some more. Looking around she recognized them all as soldiers who'd been her escorts at various times.
“They volunteered,” Randolph told her, reading her expression. “Your whole army is loyal to you, but these are 'your' men in a special way.” As he spoke he was slipping a robe over her disheveled nightgown.
“How did you all come to be here?” she asked.
“Bertha is more loyal than she seemed. Having pocketed Harold's bribe she came straight to me. I told her not to breathe a word to you, and when you'd gone to bed she let us all in. You were never in any real danger.”
“Thank you so much, all of you,” she said, spreading her arms wide to the soldiers.
“Don't think you really needed us though,” one of them said, provoking a laugh.
Harold was still writhing and choking. Two of them raised him to his feet and would have removed him, but Randolph stopped them.
“My dear cousin,” he said tenderly to Harold, “don't go without being the first to congratulate us. Princess Dorothea has honored me by agreeing to be come my wife.” He turned swiftly to Dottie. “I know you'll forgive me for announcing it like this, but there are reasons why Harold should be the first to know.”
The soldiers were in ecstasies. Dottie regarded Randolph with a fulminating eye, but there was nothing she could say in front of an audience.
What had she expected? Moonlight on a rose-strewn balcony? A tender declaration? This was a marriage of state. Yet his kisses had surely told her of something more, and she felt a quickening of excitement, even through her indignation at his high-handed behavior.
At last they were alone, and she confronted Randolph.
“'First to know' is right,” she seethed. “Harold knew before I did.”
“Nonsense Dottie, you've always known that our marriage was inevitable. You promised to do whatever your country needed. Now you know what it needs, and quickly. We can't take chances. He'll try something else, and we have to spike his guns.”
“Of course,” she said in a colorless voice.
That was how he saw their marriage, she realized-spiking Harold's guns.
Chapter Eleven
Elluria had never known such celebrations. Two royal weddings, one after another. First Prince Harold of Korburg would marry Sophie Bekendorf in Wol-fenberg Cathedral, and the very next day their own Princess Dorothea would be united in wedlock to Prince Randolph. A few weeks after that there would be the coronation. The makers of royal souvenirs were working overtime turning out mugs, tea towels and anything else that they could think of.
Much as she disliked Sophie, Dottie felt sorry for her as she flaunted Harold's huge engagement ring, and boasted of his passionate proposal. Did she know, Dottie wondered, that her future husband was saving face, having failed to seduce Elluria's future queen?
The only story that came out of that night's events was her own betrothal. Randolph had scotched the scandal very effectively. Dottie only wished she knew what other motives he might have had.
These days every spare moment was taken up with preparations for their wedding, and they hardly saw each other except in public. She kept promising herself that she would talk to him privately, but what was there to say? This was a state marriage, and all the talking in the world wouldn't change it.
When they'd discussed a honeymoon he'd suggested Venice, Rome, New York and several other glamorous places. But Dottie had turned them down.
“Too public,” she said. “I'd rather go somewhere quiet in Elluria.”
Several of his friends offered her the use of their country houses, but Dottie claimed that all of them were too large, too palatial.
At last Randolph said hesitantly, “There's my own estate of Kellensee, but it's little more than a farm.”
“Then it'll suit me better than a palace,” Dottie said at once.
If he noticed that after raising difficulties about the others she fell in with this suggestion at once, he never said so. A message was sent that night, ordering Kellensee to be prepared.
The question of who was to give her away had caused a few headaches. As she had no close male relatives it was the prerogative of the chancellor, Sternheim. Dottie had groaned and prepared to dig her heels in, but then she'd noticed Sternheim looking at her like a dog expecting to be kicked, and realized that he was terrified of a public rebuff.
Her reaction was to advance on him with hands outstretched, smiling as she said, “Shall we call a truce? You can hardly give me away if we're not speaking, can you?”
