Royal Distraction Read online

  Royal Distraction

  A Sweet Contemporary Romance

  Lucy McConnell

  Orchard View Publishing LLC

  Copyright © 2021 by Lucy McConnell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Royal Distraction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  About the Author

  Royal Distraction

  With her family threatened by an assassin and her island balancing on the precipice of a civil war, Princess Nyssa Jobassit embarks on a dangerous mission to obtain allied status with the United States and qualify for military support. A private security company has bled the royal treasury dry, leaving a bad taste in her mouth for privateers. Fully aware of her innocence, having been raised on a small island in the Emerald Sea, Nyssa is determined to be the means of salvation for her people and her family.

  * * *

  Tatum Scott is a retired SEAL turned private security mogul—and, he’s been taken out of the game while he recuperates from a bullet to the shoulder. He wouldn’t mind a contract on a small island where he can semi-retire, but schmoozing royals and dancing at balls is way out of his comfort zone.

  * * *

  On her first night in America, Nyssa hosts a ball. Following tradition, she stands at the door to greet guests. When a handsome stranger mistakes her for the coat-check girl, she doesn’t bother to correct him. When he flirts and his blue eyes spark, she doesn’t want to correct him.

  * * *

  Over the course of her visit to the US, Tatum becomes a romantic distraction from her mission, one she cannot afford. She’ll need to find a way to win America’s support and keep her identity a secret or risk the lives of her family, the island she loves, and the man who has captured her heart.

  Chapter One

  Princess Nyssa Jobassit of the Island of Zimrada clutched her hands in her lap as she waited for her father to finish his tea.

  In 1609, English explorer George Somers colonized Bermuda and claimed it for king and country. He later tried to do the same with Zimrada, one of the many smaller islands clustered within fifty miles from Bermuda’s white beaches. Her people maintained their freedom, though it cost them dearly. In the years that followed, they gladly took two things from the would-be conqueror: the king’s language and the tradition of afternoon teatime.

  Father sipped his peppermint tea, and sucked air through his bright white teeth, activating the mint to cool his body. Though the subtropical island maintained comfortable temperatures for most of the year, today the palace baked at ninety-four degrees even with the double doors thrown open to invite the ocean breezes to dance across the tiled floor. Her father had long, thick black hair, which he pulled into a low ponytail. He was six feet tall and wiry with a thick stomach.

  With his brown eyes intent on her, Father said the words she’d been longing to hear. “Nyssa, you must represent our family to the United States of America.”

  Nyssa’s grip on the chair tightened, causing her knuckles to turn white with excitement. The United States of America! She had left the small island of her birth many times to visit the nearby countries of Riodan, Sidon, Aradus, and Sisa, who were friendly in trade and commerce with her people. There were other islands as well, with people and traditions and beliefs as diverse as the winds. Zimrada and the miles of emerald ocean they shared with their neighbors had seemed large enough—until the Internet reached their shores a few months ago. Nyssa had studied globes and maps—she understood the geography of the world while somehow escaping the vastness of it all. With this knowledge came a hunger to experience life beyond the current.

  Though the reason for her travel was not one she would wish on her enemies—well, maybe on her enemies—her stomach did a dolphin flip. America. The land of opportunity. The birthplace of Rock and Roll and Elvis Presley. The melting pot of the world. The—

  “Nyssa?” asked her father, King Benito Jobassit. “Are you listening?”

  Nyssa checked her cheeky grin. There was really no good answer to that question. If she said yes, he would ask her to repeat what he’d just said. If she said no, he would be disappointed. “I’m sorry, Father. I was thinking of America.”

  His eyes softened. “There will be much to hold your attention. For a moment, please focus. We are in the most precarious situation.”

  She sat up straighter. “Of course.” She risked a glance at her mother, sitting stately in a wicker chair, her flowing sarong modestly folded over her knees. A small line divided her brow, indicating Mother wasn’t happy with the turn of events.

  Turk, the crown prince, was the likely choice for a diplomatic mission. However, he was in the middle of his courtship and tradition required him to remain on the island until the wedding.

  As the next in line for the throne, Nyssa was the official representative for the royal family until the betrothal period had passed. Giddy with the possibilities of a week in America, she prayed that Mother’s tendency to hover over her daughter would be curbed by necessity. Nyssa crossed and uncrossed her legs, arranging her skirt as she moved.

  Mother cleared her throat. “Are you sure this is necessary, Benito? If the people contributed to the protection of their king, we wouldn’t have to ask America’s military for protection from our own family.”

  Nyssa sucked air through her teeth, her mouth burning from the mint tea. The Jobassit family had been on the throne long before Columbus crossed oceans and long after many explorers landed on their pink sandy beaches. In all that time, they had never taken so much as a coconut from their people. Leadership was as much a responsibility as it was an act of service. They lived to serve the people of Zimrada, not the other way around.

  The lesson wasn’t one they preached so much as a way of life. Nyssa had helped with the orange harvests since she could toddle along behind her father and older brother. Her younger brother fell in behind her as soon as he could walk. She watched her father’s sure hands, dry and cracked from the sun, work the land and comfort a child with a scraped knee, until the time came when she too could take on these tasks.

  Father’s face remained impassive. “I cannot ask my people to provide for my family.”

  “Even if it means the life of your child?” Mother threw her hands towards Nyssa, a half dozen bracelets tinkling. “You have seen the threats, held the parchments in your hands. Is your pride worth more than she?”

  Springing to her feet, Nyssa regarded her mother’s ebony tresses hanging over one shoulder, large brown eyes, and smooth skin. Mother’s fingernails, all the same length and rounded like moons, were set against soft hands that preferred time indoors and not in the fields. “I would rather die than take one gold piece from our people.”

  Fire lit in Mother’s eyes. “Your life is a price I am not willing to pay. She is an innocent in the ways of the world.”

  “Nia, my dear.” Father spoke in an intimate tone that calmed the stormy waters between mother and daughter. “We will send Kingston to watch
over her.”

  Kingston, the six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound bodyguard who had protected Father since his coronation. He worked for the orchard as well, managing crews and overseeing the shipment of fruit at harvest. He was a fixture in Nyssa’s life, like the fountain in the center courtyard or the stone carvings along the bluff. And, he had visited America several times to negotiate with produce buyers.

  “Very well.” Mother picked up her floor-length skirt. “I will not send my daughter to a strange land unprepared. I will pack her bags with the necessary items.” Her thin sandals whispered against the tiled floor as she left.

  Nyssa stared after her, her mouth hanging open. Her parents’ relationship was like an avocado. Mostly, she saw a thick skin, but she suspected there was something softer beneath the formal greetings and conversations. Once in a while, Mother’s cheeks dusted pink with barely a look from Father, yet Mother was firm and could often be seen staring east towards her homeland. This intrigued Nyssa enough to ask something she should not. “Father?”

  “Yes?”

  “Was Mother unhappy to marry a Zimradian?”

  Father chuckled. “Titania’s people have different traditions. They set their kings and queens as precious flowers meant to be pampered.”

  Nyssa rubbed her lips together.

  Her parents’ marriage was the result of a peace treaty between two kings. Nyssa’s future marriage would serve the same purpose, uniting islands and strengthening both families. Thoughts of marrying Prince Marius drew a dark cloud over her face.

  It wasn’t that the prince wasn’t kind. He was.

  It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart. He excelled academically.

  It wasn’t that the prince was dull. He entertained many.

  It wasn’t that he was ugly. He wasn’t.

  In fact, Nyssa couldn’t come up with one good reason not to marry the prince—except that she didn’t love him.

  Love.

  A concept that was much different in America than Zimrada. Nyssa had seen two American movies: Back to the Future, and Sabrina with Audrey Hepburn, whom Nyssa suspected was a queen by her own rights. Both shows filled her head with “romantic notions,” as her mother called them. The movies weren’t the culprits that hijacked her heart. That robbery happened years ago when her younger brother gifted her a CD player and an Elvis Presley greatest hits album. It was within those deep ballads that she determined to find a man who would love her tender.

  Prince Marius was not that man.

  Pushing aside thoughts of a courtship that was, hopefully, several years away, Nyssa brushed away the gray clouds in her mind and let the sunshine enter her soul.

  Father pulled his palm down his cheek. “Marriage was … an adjustment.” So many emotions rolled behind his eyes that Nyssa knew better than to press for additional information. Her parents loved one another, but that didn’t mean that they grew the same thoughts.

  Father led her out to the balcony. The Zimrada palace was three stories high. Having used the pink sands from their beaches to stucco the exterior, the Jobassit family was the only royal family to live in a pink palace. At least, she’d believed that all her life. Perhaps she should look it up on the computer in her father’s office. The royal family had two—one for the king and one for the queen, although Nyssa spent much more time on them than either of her parents.

  Brushing her fingers over the gritty exterior wall, she allowed the sense of home to flood through her soul. Perhaps she would leave the internet search for pink palaces for another day.

  The family’s private area of the palace, including bedrooms, was on the top floor. Few outsiders were allowed here, and only a handful of servants. Although, if she were going to America, she would have to start calling them employees. They were paid for their labor from the orange grove’s profits—and paid well for being trusted by the king. Trusted enough to allow them near his children. Despite Mother’s accusations, Father was a protective patriarch.

  The gathering room, where they took tea, faced the ocean with large double doors thrown open to let the salty breeze ruffle the white linen drapes. “Upon your arrival, you will host a ball. I’ve sent invitation to many of our business associates, royal families, and American politicians. You will greet the guests as they arrive. The night will serve as a way to introduce you as our representative—a role I was hoping you would grow into with time. For generations we’ve thrived in our corner of the world, but I’m afraid we will need to take a greater role if we are to continue to protect and serve our people as well as find them opportunities.”

  Nyssa moved her braid over her shoulder so she could twist the end, as she often did when she was thinking. “Find them opportunities?” She twisted faster. “You mean help them leave?”

  “Perhaps. If that is their desire.”

  “Where would you send them?”

  “To school.” Father sagged against the white pillar. “The more I learn on that computer, the more I see how much I do not know.”

  “Schools cost money.”

  “We will begin a scholarship program—your younger brother will be the first recipient, but there must be others.”

  Nyssa chewed her lip. The education system on the island was the equivalent to a US high school diploma. She’d graduated with the highest honors.

  “We should consider your discussion with the Secretary of Defense.”

  “Yes.” Nysaa’s heart leapt. She leaned against the banister, imagining the faraway shores throwing open their arms to welcome her, then quickly shrunk back. A high school education was nothing when compared to the accomplishment of someone like the Secretary of Defense.

  “Ideally, we would like help in breaking up the blockade. Our crop rots while Mahana pressures me to step away from the throne. The orchards employ over two hundred people who have children and aging parents to support.” Father’s shoulders sank lower as he spoke, weighed down by the king’s mantle. “Selling the harvest is our top priority.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Secondly, please request troops for the palace. Mahana wishes to be king and I am afraid of the lengths he will go to obtain the crown.”

  “Have the threats increased?”

  “No, they come as steady as the sun, once a day. Always in the morning, always outside my bedroom door. Always unsigned.”

  Nyssa looked over her shoulder and, finding them alone, asked, “Do you know who leaves them?”

  “I have my suspicions. I do not want to believe one of our own has turned on us, but the possibility is there. My cousin’s influence has grown since he installed the cellular tower on the bluff.”

  They turned to see the ugly silver beacon marring their landscape and bringing technology to their shores. In the beginning, the king and his family embraced the movement, hoping that supporting Mahana’s businesses would satiate his driving need for power. They bought cell phones for the entire family, two computers, and a large, modern television. The tools had become invaluable for the royal family while most of the islanders did not trust the electronic gadgets.

  Instead of satiating Mahana, their support emboldened him. The man was like a child tasting his first pineapple—he clawed for more. Father’s cousin’s soul was laced with darkness. He wore it well, concealing his evil nature behind the name of progress.

  “Mahana is behind them,” she affirmed, bold enough to say what had only been hinted at before.

  Father pointed to his chest. “I did not say his name.”

  “No, you would not want to summon his apparition.” Nyssa smiled.

  “I wish I could send more than Kingston to protect you.”

  Kingston was more than enough—more than she traveled with on the island. Here, on her home sand, the people watched out for her; she was every father’s daughter, every mother’s charge. Only when she was alone need she fear, which is why she did not hesitate to travel with a near stranger. Kingston circled the family like a honey bee circled the trees. The trees kne
w he was there, but the bee did not stop for conversation. “Father, no. I will be safer in America than here and you need to protect yourself and Mother. We cannot afford to hire more men.” The private security firm they had recently hired charged enough to drain the coffers. “Thank you for loving me enough to protect me.”

  “I only pray I will be able to continue for years to come.”

  “You will. America will help and you will find the one who steals our peace and lock him in the dungeon.”

  Father stared out over the courtyard. The stone wall meandered to the pink sand, where it was greeted by the aqua water to the azure blue sky. “Return with honor, but mostly, return to us.”

  Nyssa threw her arms around her father’s middle. Such a large man must have a large heart, and at times she believed it was held in the palm of his only daughter’s hand. “I will not let you down.”

  He patted her back before she set off to her room to see what her mother packed. Her excitement over leaving the island was dampened by the danger that may lurk within the plaster walls of her very home.

  Chapter Two

  Almost a full week passed before arrangements were made for Nyssa to sail to a neighboring island with an airstrip and then fly to the US. Making the arrangements for the flight was much easier thanks to the cell tower and the Internet. Nyssa found great satisfaction in the knowledge that Mahana contributed to what would be his downfall—assuming she was successful.