Page 1 of Impossible Heir for the King

PROLOGUE

‘HOWWASITpossible for such a mistake to be made?’ Niko Ture, King of the North Pacific nation of Piri-nu, stared at his most trusted soldier waiting for an explanation he knew could never be satisfactory. ‘The level of incompetence is beyond comprehension.’

‘Agreed,’ Captain Pax Williams answered.

Niko—far more emotional—reeled as a raft of possible appalling consequences struck him. ‘Was it an accident or was this deliberate?’

‘The investigation is underway. I only found out through a security contact at the clinic who spotted the anomaly.’ Pax bent his head. ‘But—’

‘We need to bring that woman here now,’ Niko interrupted sharply. ‘I need to know. Where is she?Whois she?’

Wordlessly his captain handed him a slim file. Irritated, Niko flicked it open and skimmed the sparse text, frowning at the highlighted points.

‘I’ve tracked the vessel she’s aboard,’ Pax said. ‘With your permission I’ll lead an extraction team at 0400. We’ll have her at the palace before dawn.’

Niko stared at the photo of the young woman, still thunderstruck at the information he’d just learned. Nondescript, frankly dull-looking in those loose black clothes, he ordinarily wouldn’t give her a second glance. But this was no ordinary situation. Apparently—impossibly—this plain woman might be the mother of his unborn baby. ‘I’m going with you.’

He knew Pax was about to argue and he lifted his head and stopped him with a look. ‘I’m boarding that boat. You would too, if you were me.’

Pax stared back for a split second before inclining his head. ‘Of course, sir.’

Niko looked again at the face of the young woman who was somehow caught up in a palace intrigue of epic proportions. Was she innocent or was she guilty?

There was only one way to find out.

CHAPTER ONE

MAIAFLYNNFASTENEDthe scarf holding her hair out of the way and sighed at the bane of her life. The coffee machine’s regular temperamental performance issues were always worse when someone else had tried to use the thing. Late last night someone clearly had, given grounds were scattered over the galley. They’d left the resulting chaos for her to clean. Nothing new there except today that stale coffee smell was particularly nauseating. Yet it was a shame she didn’t drink the stuff. She could do with a caffeine kick because even though she’d slept through the midnight coffee-making mess, once more she hadn’t had enough sleep. She felt constantly tired from the pressure of too many guests, too much stress and no end in sight. She ought to be used to it, but in the last few weeks her baseline fatigue level had only worsened.

Ignoring her father’s miserly ‘not for the crew’ rules, she poured a little glass of the premium pineapple juice reserved for their wealthy—invariably rude—guests. Then she pulled her favourite whittling knife from her pocket and the small wood block she’d been shaping in her limited spare seconds. She needed a moment of mindfulness before dealing with the destruction caused by the spilled coffee. But as she focused on the blade a muffled thud sounded from an upper deck. She paused warily. The guests shouldn’t wake for a couple of hours yet, which meant it might be her father, the captain of this ‘luxury’ yacht. Though generally he didn’t surface this early either. Holding her breath, she listened intently but after a few seconds there was nothing more. She sipped some juice and turned back to the wood. This was her favourite part of the day—pre-dawn—when the sky gently lightened before the slow emergence of the sun. It mattered little that she could see it only from the small porthole in the galley. It was the only time she had to herself, it was peaceful and she always felt a hit of optimism—today might be different.

In reality she knew she faced a relentlessly long day prepping food for the guests and the crew. She rarely left the boat that had been her home her entire life and while she yearned to escape, it wasn’t possible yet. Not when she had nowhere else to go, no money to get there with and no formal qualifications to ‘prove’ her skills and get another job. It wasn’t like her bully of a father would ever give her a reference. He’d be too furious that she’d dared walk out. But she needed to find a solution soon both for her independence and her health. She wished she’d been able to consult the doctor when they were last on shore but her father had phoned in the middle of her appointment and she’d had to leave before getting the results of the few tests they’d been able to complete—

There it was again. Another sound out of place, so soft she almost didn’t notice it. But a sixth sense struck, shooting sensation down her spine. She whirled to face the doorway, knocking the glass of juice as she did. She suspected it might be a still-drunk guest from last night coming for something to eat.

It wasn’t.

For a split second she stared at him—stunned and ignoring the smash of the glass and splash of the juice at her feet. Tall, lean, clad entirely in black—from the close-fitting skullcap to the mask covering his mouth—he even had some kind of stuff smudged on his skin to obscure what little of his face remained visible. Horror hit. He looked like a mercenary. But for an infinite second his brown eyes bored into hers—as rich as the coffee grounds, only far warmer. They locked on her and a lightning strike ofsomethinghit.

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream. Then she remembered what she held and lifted her knife, amazed her hand wasn’t shaking.

‘Don’t. Don’t be scared,’ he whispered, holding his hands wide in surrender. He didn’t move a step nearer. ‘It’s okay.’

It wasn’tokay. But she froze, trying to understand why he was here, why he was hesitant—why he almost lookedworried. Maia lifted her chin and pretended her little knife was so much more than it was. She’d get to her cabin. She’d lock the door and hide. They could take whatever they wanted then. For a second she even felt she had a chance because he, despite his size, seemed so oddly wary.

She stepped backwards. He still didn’t move but his gaze was intent upon her. Emboldened, she moved faster but the spilled juice proved treacherous. Her foot slid out from beneath her and despite her sudden lurch she couldn’t recover. She whacked her wrist on the bench as she flung out her arms to stop her fall. The knife clattered as it hit the floor. Butshedidn’t. Because in the swiftest move she’d ever seen a man make he caught her.

‘Easy,easy. I’ve got you.’ He lifted her effortlessly. Lifted her close. So close.

She grabbed hold of him—tightly—instinctively relieved she’d not fallen. Instinctively reaching forstrength. His hands gently, swiftly moved over her back, both pressing her into his chest and checking she was still all in one piece. It was oddly—crazily—comforting.

‘Okay?’ he muttered.

She could smell the sea, mixed with something spiced—something her senses decided wasinteresting. She closed her eyes and tried not to breathe—not to notice the appalling, raw appeal of him as he pulled her more tightly against him. This was the closest she’d been to another human being in a very long time and it was freaking her out in allkindsof ways. Struggling to process what was happening, she froze when she heard a low murmur from behind her and then felt an answering vibration in his chest. He was talking to someone else and she was too stunned to even understand the words. But she understood that there was more than one of them. Which meant this was a raid. Probably for the cash they suspected they carried on board. The perils of a gambling cruise alone in the northern Pacific Ocean. Her father had a gun and wasn’t afraid to use it, but somehow they’d snuck aboard unseen. Which meant they hadskills.

Panic finally fired adrenalin through her. She had to fight for her life. She wriggled and managed to lift her head and stare up into his eyes.

‘No,’ she muttered and drew breath to scream.

---