Royally Yours by Emma Chase

Author:Emma Chase [Chase, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Royally Series
Publisher: Emma Chase
Published: 2018-10-14T18:00:00+00:00

THIS WAS A MISTAKE.

I knew it on the first day, but I had to keep pushing, trying. I thought I could come out here to this gold mine and slip back into my old life for a time. I thought it would be easy, like flipping a light switch.

I thought wrong.

This doesn’t fit anymore, none of it. I’m not the same man I was when I arrived back in Wessco . . . or when I carried a lovely, stubborn girl through the rain.

My priorities have changed. I have changed. Everything has.

I can’t turn it off and I don’t want to. Lenora haunts me. I lie awake at night in my tent thinking of the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair, the ever-changing shade of her liquid-silver eyes.

During the day, I wonder what she’s doing. If she’s all right. If those tools in Parliament are treating her well. I promised I would never let her fall . . . and then I left her there all alone.

She’s the most alone person in the whole world.

The guilt eats at me, slices through me, right down to my bones.

But it’s more than that. More than guilt or obligation. There’s something else, something I don’t know what to call yet—a constant push, an urgent pull from the center of my chest where my heart beats. A desperate straining desire to return home.

To return to her.

All these years I’ve been out here looking, searching for where I belonged and what I was supposed to do. For my purpose. And I’ve finally found it; I’m finally sure.

Lenora is my purpose. She is my reason.

And I have to get home to tell her.

In my tent, the three guards on my security detail watch as I stuff my belongings in my bag. They don’t talk much and I think they probably hate my guts. For dragging them halfway around the world, into the jungle, sweating and miserable. Can’t say I blame them.

Outside the tent, Ian Kincaid calls my name. I grab my hat, step through the flap and look around. He’s at the docks, waving his arm at me. And it takes a moment to decipher what’s in his hand.

When I do, my stomach plummets straight to hell.

Because it’s a telegram.

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