Romancing the Crown: Nina & Dominic: A Royal Murder

A Royal Murder

LYN STONE

Sarah’s Knight

MARY McBRIDE

LYN STONE

Dear Reader,

The opportunity to interact with the other authors in this ROMANCING THE CROWN series has been a joy. Montebello, Tamir and all the inhabitants of these locations have become quite real to me after visiting them and their creators so regularly in the books and online.

My sincere thanks to Leslie Wainger and Lynda Curnyn for offering me the chance to participate in this unique project, and for the wonderful guidance and editing that made all the books tie in so well.

A Royal Murder introduces Ryan McDonough, former Savannah detective and present private investigator hired by the Montebellan royal family, to the sister of the murder victim, Nina Caruso, a graphic designer from California determined to see justice done. Not exactly a match made in heaven when it comes to solving a murder, but they do strike a match of another kind. The resulting blaze flames out of control even as they dodge the danger of a killer tying up loose ends.

Enjoy the heat!

Lyn Stone

This book is dedicated to my grandmothers,

Dolly Pauline Cato, who treasured home

and family togetherness, and Jessie Herron

Perkins, who loved travel, adventure and

making up stories.

Chapter 1

Ryan McDonough gave the woman the once-over, noting the thinly concealed frustration in her sin-dark eyes and her subtly defensive stance. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Caruso,” he said automatically, words repeated countless times to families of countless victims. “I understand your offer to help, but what you want is not possible.”

He was sorry to see anyone grieve. God knows he knew what it was like. Grief in this instance must already have passed beyond tears to the second phase. Anger. She was gritting her teeth.

The Caruso woman inclined her head and said, “Thank you for your condolences, but I must insist.” Very proper. But still not acceptable.

Ryan turned to Vincente Pavelli, the royal messenger, or crown gofer, or whatever the hell the man’s title was. “Tell His Majesty I said thank you, but no dice. Phrase it however you want to, just get the message across.”

“But Mr. McDonough…” Pavelli’s swarthy face fell and he started to hyperventilate. Sweat popped out in little beads on the forehead that extended to the back of his head as he slid a shaking finger beneath his collar to loosen it.

“Hey, it’s not like he shoots the bearer of bad tidings, man. Lighten up.” Ryan came around his desk to usher them out. He clapped the man on his skinny, expensively padded shoulder. “Tell him I make it a policy never to include civilians while conducting an investigation. Hard and fast rule. Capisce?”

The gofer took several jerky steps toward the door, still looking as if he wanted to argue about it.

“Wait just a minute,” Ryan said, his voice a warning growl. “You forgot something.” He turned and gestured at the woman, who seemed determined to hold her ground.

She ignored him. “Go ahead and wait in the car, Mr. Pavelli. I need to speak with Mr. McDonough alone.”

Pavelli left hurriedly, closing the door, leaving them alone.

Ryan kept a cool head. It usually gave him the advantage. Neither the Montebellans nor the Italians passed on many even-tempered genes to their progeny. Nina Caruso was descended from both. Being raised in America obviously hadn’t altered her temperament much. While all that fire just beneath her surface intrigued him, he didn’t need to deal with it right now.

“We have nothing to discuss, ma’am,” he told her calmly. “The king will have my preliminary report on your brother’s death first thing in the morning and any further information as soon as I discover it. His Majesty’s advisors will keep you up to date.”

She sighed, walked around his desk and sat down in his chair, bold as you please. His chair. Propping her elbows on the arms of it, she steepled her fingers under her chin. She had great hands. Long, supple fingers tipped with fairly short nails, painted wine red to match her lips. He tried not to look at the lips, but they kept drawing his attention even when she wasn’t speaking.

Ryan shook off his fascination, disgruntled with himself for noticing her looks and with her for provoking him to notice.

“I didn’t come halfway around the world to sit somewhere and wait,” she declared, her voice clipped and precise, totally devoid of an accent. “My brother’s been killed and I’m sticking to you like Super Glue until we find out who did it. Get used to it.”

Ryan fought hard for patience. She might be rude, but he hated to be sharp with her. That wasn’t his way, especially when she was probably just upset about her half brother’s violent death.

Probably being the key word here. Now that he looked at her more objectively, she didn’t appear to be all that grief stricken. And she was dangerously close to pushing the wrong button on his control panel, barging in here demanding to know what he’d been doing on the case.