Page 1 of Awakened On Her Royal Wedding Night
CHAPTER ONE
“YOU’LLDIEOUTTHERE!” the Prince shouted from his speedboat. “I’m not coming after you!”
Good, Claudine Bergqvist thought, even though the sea was cold enough that her muscles were already cramping. The water was dark and pulled at the maxi-dress she wore. The jersey silk tangled against her legs as she tried to frog-kick. Waves dipped and rolled, making it hard to catch her breath without taking in a mouthful of water.
She was swimming a breaststroke so she could keep her vision fixated on the island ahead of her, but even though she was a strong swimmer, that black rise of land with only a few twinkling lights upon it was still terrifyingly far away. Barbed hooks of panic were trying to take hold in her while her imagination ran away with her. What else lurked in these waters besides her and that horrible man who had lured her onto his boat?
She heard the engine start up and stopped to tread water, swiveling to see if he was coming after her.
No. The running lights turned away from her. The aerodynamic speedboat shot away in a burst of its engine, spewing froth behind it.
She couldn’t see the yacht that had birthed it, or the super yacht where she had started her evening. This whole night had been a nesting doll of ever more perilous situations, not that she had seen it at the time.
“Come to a big party on a big boat. Why don’t some of you come to a smaller party on my smaller yacht? Actually, let’s take my runabout for a spin, just you and me.”
Now it was just him, the Prince, heading back to Stella Vista, the biggest island in the chain that made up the Kingdom of Nazarine. And her, Claudine. Alone in the sea.
Her heart thumped erratically. Her abdomen tightened with so much anxiety her lungs could barely draw a breath. The wake from the departing speedboat rippled toward her, picking her up and dropping her into the trough so she lost sight of the boat.
When she spun in the water, the small island she’d seen a moment ago was gone.
She turned and turned.
Do not panic.
There it was. She kept her gaze pinned to it while she fought the clinging material of her dress. She pulled her arms from its straps before she pushed the sheath off her waist and hips, freeing herself of the encumbrance.
I can do this.
She had done many things that were difficult, including becoming the Swedish contestant in the Miss Pangea pageant despite living in America for the last fifteen years.
She had also once won a bronze medal for her breaststroke. She’d been eleven and it had been a medley relay. Her portion had only been one hundred meters, but her team had made it to the podium.
Mom needs me alive, she reminded herself as she resumed her kick, stroke, breathe.
The thought of her mother only made her more anxious, though. Ann-Marie Bergqvist hadn’t wanted Claudine to do this pageant. Not any pageant. They were archaic and sexist, she’d insisted.
They were, Claudine agreed, but she’d stumbled into the first one on a lark with friends, then kept winning. At first, she had competed for a scholarship and some trendy clothes. Then luggage and a vacation in the Caribbean. She had been flattered by the modest fame and the interviews with TV personalities, but when her mother’s well-managed multiple sclerosis suddenly took a sharp turn into more serious symptoms, Claudine had sold the car she’d won along with the appliances.
The cash had bought her mother some time off work and a number of specialist appointments, but her disease was not one that could be cured, only managed. Each time Claudine leveled up and won a bigger pageant, she was able to afford better care for her mother.
The global Miss Pangea pageant was one of the most lucrative. It had brought her to Nazarine, near the ankle of Italy’s boot, and if she was chosen to appear in their notoriously sexy swimsuit calendar, she would receive a very generous compensation. If she made the cover, she would earn even more. In fact, she was the favorite to win the whole contest.
Ifshe made it to shore.
Was that why the Prince had targeted her? Because she was odds on to win?
She tried not to think of it. She was already tired. The exertion of swimming was not the problem. The force of the sea was taking a toll. This was no placid pool where she could skim along. She was being shoved from all angles, catching waves up the nose and swallowing salt water.
What if she didn’t survive? What if she didn’t make the photo shoot tomorrow? What if she didn’t win any prize money and her mother had to let her disease run its course?
What if she drowned and never saw her mother again?
Don’t think of it.
Kick, stroke, breathe. Kick, stroke, breathe.
“Intruder, Your Highness.” Prince Felipe’s guard brought him a tablet as Felipe was sitting down to a late dinner.
