Chapter 10
“They took her to Germany.”
Phillip Fitzcharles pinched the bridge of his nose.
He should have killed that bastard nephew of his months ago, a quiet accident that was very tragic and convenient.
It would have saved him the epic headache the boy had become.
If he was in Germany, he was searching for evidence that Phillip’s claims about Mary were lies.
As if he could fake something of that proportion without the paperwork to back it up.
He had, but that was beside the point.
Theodore couldn’t know. It was impossible.
Phillip turned to face Dorian. Such a small-minded man, mean and ambitious.
There was nothing wrong with ambition, but Dorian always reached too high, too fast, and he failed because of it.
It was his ambition that resulted in his exile nearly twenty years ago—an order reversed by the current Crown Prince.
He checked his watch. The Crown Prince who would be there shortly. “They’re in Mary’s old house?”
“Yes. It’s owned by one of the many Mortimore sisters, but Theo is there with Galen and the girl.”
Dorian might be a monumental pain in his ass, but the man’s contacts were without parallel. Phillip paced to one side of the room and back. “You burned the clinic.”
“I saw to it personally. The records no longer exist.”
It wasn’t enough. Despite heavy bribes, the information was scattered and unreliable. There could be other copies of the records filed elsewhere. Dorian had his men do a cursory search, but just because they hadn’t found something didn’t mean it didn’t exist.
And if it existed, then Theodore would find it. He was too desperate not to.
Phillip glanced at the doorway Edward would be coming through at any moment.
They had to wrap this up quickly. The boy was already suspicious, and the only way Phillip had placated him was to promise that Theodore and Galen could come home after he was crowned—stripped of their respective titles, of course.
He couldn’t let it happen.
As long as Theodore was in Thalania, he was a threat to the crown. The people loved him, and he’d been raised to rule. He couldn’t stand next to the throne without overshadowing it.
Without overshadowing Phillip’s influence.
He moved closer to Dorian. “This can’t go on any longer. Do you understand me?”
Dorian’s brows drew together. “My son might still be useful.”
The only person who could successfully harness Galen was Theodore, but telling the man that accomplished nothing.
Dorian’s ambition lay in convincing his only son to wed Camilla Fitzcharles.
Despite the offer, it would never happen—something Phillip knew when he proposed it—but it kept Dorian from getting any untoward ideas.
“That’s fine. If you can find a way to separate them, do it.
But my nephew and the girl need to be dealt with, Dorian.
” If she was sleeping with Theo, there might be a chance she was pregnant and that was a nightmare Phillip had no intention of dealing with.
“Consider it done.”
“Good.” The door opened and Phillip turned with a practiced smile as Edward Fitzcharles walked into the room.
“Good morning, Edward.” The boy took more after his mother than his father, lean and pale with a face that hadn’t quite lost the softness of childhood.
Theodore had radiated personality from a very young age, sure of his place in the world, but his younger brother didn’t have quite the same presence.
The difference served Phillip well.
“Good afternoon, Uncle.” Edward dropped into the chair across from him. “What’s on the agenda today?”
Murder.
Phillip kept his smile in place as Dorian slipped from the room. If things went well, in a few days his little problem with Theodore and his woman would be nothing more than a tragic news story.
Galen woke as Meg climbed out of bed. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, curious about what she intended.
Last night had been intense, to say the least, and most women would need some space after it.
Or that’s what he told himself as he listened to her pad to the doorway and down the hallway.
It sure as fuck wasn’t rejection.
He rolled over and laced his fingers behind his head.
It was early—barely five—but he’d get dressed and go for a run soon.
As intense as the fucking was last night, Galen needed to burn off some energy.
They hadn’t dodged any bullets by coming here.
Theo took precautions to cover their trail, but ultimately, he was the exiled prince of Thalania.
People paid attention to him, especially in Europe.
If he thought for a second it would have worked, Galen would have tossed both Theo and Meg on a plane and sent them somewhere safe while he hunted down these leads.
It shouldn’t have been this difficult to get the evidence they needed, especially in this age of technology where everything was on the internet.
But try as they might, they couldn’t get concrete answers about Theo’s mother—about who she’d been before marrying his father.
About her first marriage.
It should have been as easy as a Google search and, failing that, contacting her family to obtain records.
But both her parents were long dead and while one of her legion of sisters had maintained control of the family property in Germany, the rest of them had scattered to the four corners of the earth.
It didn’t make sense, and their caginess when it came to talking about Mary set Galen’s teeth on edge.
There was a secret there—a big one.
And he didn’t think for a second it was the same one Phillip had used to oust Theo—that Mary was still married to her first husband when she ran off with Theodore Fitzcharles II, got married, and got pregnant.
Not necessarily in that order. Phillip might have the paperwork to prove it, but something wasn’t quite right.
Galen and Theo fully intended to find out the full story.
It would have been a whole lot easier to do if any of Mary’s sisters were actually interested in talking to their nephew.
Footsteps in the hallway brought him back to the present. Meg slipped through the door and froze when she met his gaze. “You’re awake.”
“So are you.” He glanced at the thing she held in her hand. A book. “Bored?”
She tilted her head to the side and made a show of raking her eyes over him and then Theo where he still slept on the other side of the mattress.
“I have two gorgeous men in bed. How could I possibly be bored?” When he gave her a look, she sighed.
“Yes, I’m bored. We dodged jet lag for the most part, but I’m usually up and moving by this time. ”
“Me, too.” He patted the mattress. “Show me your book.”
Still, she hesitated. “I should probably just read in my own room. I don’t know why I even came back in here.”
Galen didn’t navigate bullshit easily. It wasted everyone’s time to spin comfortable lies when the truth was right there glaring in a person’s face.
Meg came back in here because she wasn’t ready to leave last night behind, because she craved intimacy to go with the fucking.
She might not be willing to admit it to herself, but he knew it for fact.
He should send her to her room. A sharp comment would be all it took to get her back up. She was too prickly and prideful to stand and take it if he spelled out her vulnerability in the space between them.
“Get your ass back in this bed.”
She glared, but she marched back to the bed.
Instead of crawling up from the foot of the mattress in the same way she’d exited, Meg walked around to his side and climbed over him.
He almost let her, too, but if she was going to be a brat, he’d be a fucking brat right back.
Galen looped an arm over the small of her back, plastering her against his chest. “If you wanted sex, you should have just said so.”
“If I wanted sex, I’d be sucking your dick.” She smacked his chest. “Let me up, Galen.”
“Tell me about your book.”
She gave him a look like he was crazy. Maybe he was.
“Here? Like this?” She wriggled and his body responded.
It would be the easiest thing in the world right now to kiss her, to shift his grip to cup her ass and guide her to grind against his cock until she was begging for it.
And, fuck, he wanted to. Something must have shown on his face, because Meg shivered. “It’s five o’clock in the morning.”
“Mmmm.” He loosened his hold on her and stroked his hand up her spine and back down again.
She licked her lips. “I hate when you do that. That sound doesn’t mean anything.” Meg shifted so her arms were on either side of his head, bringing them flush together. Yeah, this was nice. She rolled her hips a little, seeking his cock.
“Sure it does.” He reached for the lube they’d left on the nightstand and squirted some of it onto his palm.
Galen urged Meg up on her hands and knees and palmed her pussy.
He slid a finger in, two, and then one again, until she was ready for him.
Last night had been a lot of abuse on her sweet little pussy, and he wanted her here with him right now, hot and needy and not the slightest bit uncomfortable.
Galen spread the lube up to her clit, playing with her for a few seconds before impatience got the best of him. “Now.”
“Yes.” She didn’t wait for him. She grabbed his cock and guided it into her.
Meg sank onto him in a smooth move, her eyes drifting shut for half a breath before she opened them, as if she didn’t want to miss this any more than he did.
She planted her hands on his chest and rolled her body, fucking him slowly. “Forgive me.”
He watched the point of their joining, watched the slow slide of his cock into her pussy, the sight so good, it was almost unbearable. “There’s nothing to forgive.”