His grandfather had waited patiently all these years for Dal to return, and Dal hated to disappoint his grandfather but Dal wasn’t returning for good.

He’d have to send word to his grandfather so the king wouldn’t be caught off guard, but this wasn’t a homecoming for Dal. It was merely a chance to buy him time while he decided how he’d handle his search for a new bride.

CHAPTER TWO

POPPY CHEWED THE inside of her lip as the sports car approached the airstrip outside Winchester.

She could see the sleek, white jet with the navy and burgundy pinstripes on the tarmac. It was fueled and staffed, waiting for the bride and groom to go to their Caribbean island for an extended honeymoon.

She’d only learned that Randall owned his own plane a few weeks ago, and that he kept the jet in a private hangar at an executive terminal in London. Poppy had been shocked by the discovery, wondering why she hadn’t known before. She’d handled a vast array of his business affairs for years. Shouldn’t she have known that he owned a plane, as well as kept a dedicated flight crew on payroll?

“We’re back to London, then?” she asked Randall as the electric gates opened, giving them admittance to the private airfield.

“Will there be press in London?” he retorted grimly.

“Yes,” she answered faintly.

“Then we absolutely won’t go there.”

His icy disdain made her shiver inwardly. This was a side of him she didn’t know. Randall had always been a paragon of control, rarely revealing emotion, and certainly never displaying temper. But he’d been through hell today, she reminded herself, ridiculously loyal, not because she had to be, but because she wanted to be. He was one of the finest men she knew, and it could be argued that she didn’t know many men, but that didn’t change the fact that he was brilliant and honorable, a man with tremendous integrity. And yes, she had placed him on a pedestal years ago, but that was because he deserved to be there, and just because he was short-tempered today didn’t mean she was ready to let him topple off that pedestal. “But won’t there be press everywhere?” she asked carefully.

“Not everywhere, no.”

“You have a place in mind, then?”

He shot her a look then, rather long and speculative. It made her feel uncomfortably bare, as if he could see through her. “Yes.”

Her skin prickled and she gave her arm a quick rub, smoothing away the sudden goose bumps. “Is it far?”

“It’s not exactly close.”

“You know I don’t have my laptop,” she added briskly, trying to cover her unease. “It’s in London. Perhaps we could stop in London first—”

“No.”

She winced.

She knew he saw her expression because his jaw hardened and his eyes blazed, making her feel as if he somehow knew her role in today’s disaster, but he couldn’t know. Sophie didn’t even know, and Sophie was the one hauled away on Renzo’s shoulder.

Randall braked next to the plane and turned the engine off. “You can cry if you want, but I don’t feel sorry for you, not one little bit.”

“I’m not crying,” she flashed.

“But knowing you, you will be soon. You’re the proverbial watering pot, Poppy.”

She turned her head away, determined to ignore his insults. She’d take the higher ground today since he couldn’t. It couldn’t be easy being humiliated in front of hundreds of people—

“I trusted you,” he gritted, his voice low and rough. “I trusted you and you’ve let me down.”

Her head snapped around and she looked into his eyes. His fury was palpable, his golden gaze burning into her.

Her heart hammered. Her mouth went dry. “I’m sorry.”

“Then tell me the truth so we can clear up the confusion of just what the hell happened earlier today.”

“Renzo took Sophie.”

“I got that part. Witnessed it firsthand. But what I want to know is why. Why did he come? Why did Sophie go? Why are they together now when she was supposed to be here with me? You know the story. I think it’s only fair that I know it, too.”

Poppy’s lips parted but she couldn’t make a sound.

His narrowed gaze traveled her face before he gave his head a shake.