Read Her Royal Husband for Free Online

simply wasn’t. I’ve looked everywhere.”
    “How long have you been looking?” Jordan askedfirmly, though she would have liked dearly to wring her hands and cry just like the nanny.
    “Nearly an hour.”
    An hour. In an enormous castle, full of hazards, coats of armor waiting to be pulled down, swords waiting to impale. And what of all the strange people? The prince had been kidnapped from this very castle only two weeks ago!
    Jordan forced herself to take a deep and steadying breath. She whipped off her apron.
    Her aunt peered up from the pot she was stirring, which was emitting strange clouds of green steam. “I wish you’d think of the Dancing Chocolate Ecstasy. A mistake at this phase, and it’s ruined!”
    Jordan glared at her, and turned back to the quivering nanny. “Where were you exactly when you noticed her gone? Take me there.”
    For the first time, Jordan entered the main part of the castle. Despite her worry for Whitney, she could not help but notice the richness all around her. Thick muted carpets covered stone floors. Richly colored tapestries and stern oil paintings covered the stone walls. The furniture was all antique, glowing beautifully from hours of elbow grease. Intricate crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings. Oak had been used extensively on bannisters and window casings and doorways. All in all, the opulence was somewhat overwhelming.
    “We were right here, ma’am,” the girl finally said, stopping in a quiet hallway on the second floor. The carpet under their feet looked priceless. A muted tapestry, obviously silk and obviously ancient hung on one wall, a portrait of a fierce-looking man mounted on a horse hung on the opposite wall.
    Jordan could see nothing here that would fascinate her daughter.
    “I had just paused for a moment, to talk to Ralphie, one of the gardeners, and when I looked at where she had been, Whitney was gone!”
    Jordan decided not to pursue what Ralphie-the-gardener might have been doing on the second floor of the palace.
    There only seemed to be one place Whitney could have gone. “And this door goes where?” Jordan asked.
    “That’s Prince Owen’s suite, ma’am.”
    “Did you tell her that? My daughter? That a real live prince resided behind those doors?”
    Trisha looked painfully thoughtful. “Well, yes I might have mentioned it.”
    Jordan pushed down the handle, but the young nanny flung herself in front of her, wide-eyed with disbelief.
    “You can’t just enter his suite,” she whispered.
    “My daughter might be in there!”
    “Surely not.” The girl looked terrified.
    “What is the prince? Why are you so afraid? Is he some sort of old ogre?”
    A blush crept charmingly up the girl’s cheeks. “Oh, no, ma’am. Not in the least. I mean nothing further from an ogre. He’s not old for one thing. And he’s the most handsome man who ever lived. And so wonderfully kind. He’s very, oh, just the best. But you can’t just enter his quarters.”
    So much for Ralphie, Jordan thought, grimly amused by the girl’s obvious crush.
    “I could never presume to knock on his door,” the girl whispered. “If he finds out I’ve lost a child in my charge, I’ll never live with the shame of it. He’s going to be king some day!”
    “What nonsense,” Jordan said, and hammered on the door. Despite the nanny’s gasp of dismay, she pushed down the handle before there was an answer. Prince or not her child was lost and royal protocol came a long way down the list from that.
    “Excuse me—” she stopped dead in her tracks, and felt the blood drain from her face.
    Whitney was there after all, sitting happily at a huge table, manipulating chessmen that appeared to be made of crystal.
    But the discovery of her daughter brought none of the expected relief. Instead, Jordan felt close to panic.
    She tried to tell herself her mind was playing tricks on her.
    Of course it was.
    A man sat at a polished table with her daughter. Not the prince, obviously. He