At last, it was time to leave.
Bianca’s sisters hurried her upstairs so she could change into her going-away outfit.
Jeans. Motorcycle boots. The leather jacket Chay had given her and she’d never given back. They were leaving for California in Chay’s Silverado, with the Harley safely secured in the truck bed.
The passel of brothers surrounded Chay as he headed upstairs too, along with Tanner—his best man—and the other guys from his unit, including Declan Sanchez.
“Will Annie be there?” Dec had asked, after he’d said, yes, damn right he’d come to the wedding.
Chay had checked with Bianca. Then he said yeah, she would be.
“Oh,” Dec had said in a low growl, and Chay had almost asked what that oh meant, what that hard look on Dec’s face meant—but he wasn’t foolish enough to do either.
All the guests and the family gathered outside the mansion. They stood crowded together on the porch and in the driveway, laughing, joking, cheering as Chay scooped his bride into his arms and carried her to his truck. One last kiss and the truck pulled away in a scattering of Texas dust and rose petals thrown by the assembled crowd.
Everyone went back inside.
Everyone but Declan and Annie.
“Declan,” she said softly.
Her eyes were dark. Full of pain. Well, dammit, he was in pain too.
“Goddammit, Annie,” he said.
“Whoops. Sorry. I left my glass on the railing…”
Shit, Dec thought. Just what they didn’t need. A fucking four-star retired general opening the door and stepping onto the porch.
But Dec was a military man.
“Sir,” he said, politely if coldly.
Annie went a little pale and started to turn away.
“Your Highness?”
Dec turned a puzzled face towards th
e general.
The general was staring at Annie.
“Princess Anoushka? I thought that was you.”
Dec saw Annie’s shoulders rise and fall. Then, very slowly, she swung towards the two men.
“General,” she said quietly.
John Hamilton Wilde smiled. “I thought I spotted you before, but then I thought, no, I must be wrong. What would the royal princess of Qaram be doing in a little town in Texas?”
Dec heard a roaring in his ears. “What?” he said. “What did you just call her?”
“I called her what she is, young man. The royal prin…” The general looked from Declan Sanchez to the woman who called herself Annie. He cleared his throat, snatched up his glass and went into the house.
The door swung shut.
Sanchez stared at Annie.