She glanced at him again and summoned her courage. “I was referring to the lives that will be lost in the impending war, if the rebels gain enough support.”
“We are dealing with the rebels as we find them.”
“By killing them?”
“Of course,” he said simply. “What they are doing is treasonous.”
She couldn’t argue with that, but he was missing the point. “It’s the innocent Lubinians the rebels are agitating to their cause that I’m concerned about. In fact, no one else needs to die when the pretext for the rebellion is based on lies. The king does have an heir. Me. My presence will put an end to the sedition.”
“You suggest a lie to counter a lie?”
She sighed. “No, I am who I say I am, Frederick’s daughter. I wish it were otherwise. I didn’t even find out about it until last month. Believe me, I’ve never aspired to be a princess. I grew up in London thinking I’d marry an English lord someday—well, until I discovered I liked teaching so much, and the nobles at home frown on their wives doing anything so common as—” She stopped, realizing she was rambling nervously. “That’s an old dilemma. My point is, I might have been born here, but I don’t consider Lubinia my home, so I don’t want to stay here any longer than it takes to avert a war.”
“If you were the princess, the choice wouldn’t be yours to make.”
She jumped to her feet. “I can convince my father—”
“Sit down!”
She didn’t. She glanced at the door instead. That made him laugh.
“You’re not going anywhere until I decide what to do with you. Perhaps you should have realized that and waited to confess until after I bedded you. A man is much more amiable to a woman he—”
She gasped. “Stop it! Don’t say things you’ll have to apologize for later, when you realize I’m telling you the truth.”
He grinned at the warning. “Apologize for natural urges? Princess or not, I don’t think so. But if you are finished amusing me, would you please tell me what makes you think you are a member of the royal family? Shall we begin with your name?”
He didn’t believe her, but of course he wouldn’t when she hadn’t really told him anything yet to support her claim. She took her seat again and explained, “I had a bracelet to prove what I’m saying, but it was stolen when—”
His snort cut her off. “Conveniently stolen, eh?”
She lifted her chin. “I know who took it, one of my father’s own men.”
He frowned. “When?”
“The same day we arrived in the country. We came—”
He cut in sharply, “Who’s we? Who were you traveling with?”
Alana suddenly felt wary. She wasn’t calm enough to discuss Poppie yet. “That’s none of your concern.”
“You are mistaken. Whoever put you up to this and brought you here is plotting against the king, and it is my job to protect him.”
Her chin rose. “There is no new plot here, just a very old one—eighteen years old.”
He gave her a long, hard look before he said, “Very well, I’ll get back to this point. For now, go ahead and continue your story about the bracelet.”
She nodded. “To enter the country, we came through a little-used mountain pass and were stopped by a group of very rough soldiers who accused us of being rebels. My trunks were searched for weapons. All of my jewelry as well as the bracelet were gone afterwards. Find out who their loutish leader was and he can tell you exactly who that thief was.”
His frown darkened. He directed it at her so long, she couldn’t mistake his anger. Why? Because she’d called one of his men a lout?
“Describe the bracelet you think is so important,” he snapped out.
She did so quickly and added, “I was wearing it when I was taken from here all those years ago.”
She actually thought he was beginning to believe her until he scoffed, “A trinket you could have had made for your purposes? A trinket that resembles the real one and any number of people could have known about? Did you really bother to copy the original, or did you intend to claim it was stolen all along?”
Crestfallen that he could draw those conclusions, she said, “You won’t even try to find it? When my father could recognize it?”
“You need to be a lot more convincing for me to accuse a royal guard of theft, when it would be your word against his. No.”
He’d just dismissed the tangible evidence that she’d been depending on. She was losing all desire to be cooperative—with him. If he didn’t frighten her, she’d tell him so. Good God, she couldn’t have picked a worse official in the whole palace to confide in than the head of security.
She grasped at another bit of tangible evidence, asking, “Do I look like my mother?”
“Which mother would that be?”
Frustration entered her tone. “Frederick’s first wife, Queen Avelina, of course.”
“No.”
He gave new meaning to that word. She’d never heard it uttered with such absolute finality.
“No, I don’t? Or, no, you’re just dismissing the possibility?”
“The monarchs are blond. The other imposters were blond. You aren’t. And it is irrelevant. People can be found who resemble each other but are not related. Now—”
“Wait! Did you just say other imposters? There were more than one?”
“Indeed, quite a few. Now back to your name.”
Good Lord, they were never going to believe her story if she was just one in a long line of claimants. “You expect my name to be anything other than Alana Stindal?”
“Don’t answer questions with questions,” he warned her.
“I apologize, but I was trained to dissect any given situation and even second-guess an opponent.”
“That’s probably the first true thing you’ve said, that you were trained—”
“To be a queen,” she finished for him. “My guardian knew he would have to bring me back here someday to claim my heritage. So he did what he could to ensure I would be prepared for it, even if he never told me why my education was so unusual.”
“Who is this guardian of yours and why would he train you to view the king’s protector as an opponent?”
Becker was doing it again, asking specifically about Poppie, probably hoping she’d blurt something out in her nervousness. Realizing that just made her more guarded.
She said simply, “I consider you my opponent because you’re acting like one. You’re standing between me and the parent I didn’t even know I had until just recently. I came here to save people’s lives. Tell my father that. Whether you or he believes me or not, he can still use me to prevent a war. Once the rebels slink back into the holes they came from, I’ll quietly leave the country and my father can put more effort into producing another heir—and why hasn’t he done so in all these years?”
She shouldn’t have asked that. Her father’s lack of heirs was the main focus of the rebels’ propaganda. The last thing she wanted was for this man to think that she might be associated with them by bringing up their issues. But she blanched, watching his expression alter with that very thought.
She shot to her feet in an absolute panic. She’d almost reached the door when his hand caught her skirt, but he didn’t have a good grip and she wasn’t stopping. But he didn’t let go, his hand just slid down the blue velvet material, right over the pistol in her pocket. She heard him swear, but her hand closed over the door handle and yanked, only to have his foot hit the wooden door in front of her, slamming it closed again. She turned immediately, a fist clenched to hit his throat, one of the moves Poppie had taught her, which she was desperate enough to try despite this man’s size. No luck, none at all.
He caught her fist, started to shove it behind her back, which would have brought her hard against his chest and trapped her there. But she foiled that attempt by turning to that same side to give herself leeway to yank her hand back. Unfortunately, catching him by surprise like that didn’t work i
n her favor. She wasn’t sure who lost balance, but they both ended up falling to the carpeted floor. At the last second, he rolled to take the brunt of the fall, but then rolled again, pinning her under him. She wasn’t getting up from that!
The first thing he did was remove the pistol he’d felt in her pocket and toss it aside. Defensively, before he thought the worst, she exclaimed, “I won’t apologize for the weapons. Someone in this country tried to kill me! I need them to defend—”
“More than one weapon?” was all he gathered from that explanation. But then he suddenly chuckled. “I think I’m going to have to thoroughly search you, wench. Yes, I can even say it’s my duty to do so.”
She could see it in his dark blue eyes that he was about to enjoy his job far too much. He was grinning, too, as he glanced down at her breasts. She gasped. He wouldn’t dare!
“Stop! You’re going to regret—”
“No, regret is the very last thing I will ever feel about this.”
He actually did it. He placed his hand firmly over one of her breasts and left it there far too long as he gently squeezed it to make sure she had no weapon tucked in that area. Then he did the same with her other breast! She understood he was obligated to confiscate her weapons, but not like this!
She struggled to push him off her. She’d known that wasn’t going to happen. She closed her eyes, too embarrassed to feel anything but fury that his brute strength kept her from stopping him.
“It’s good you are cooperating, eh?”
She heard the laughter in his tone and her eyes snapped open to glare at him. “Is that what I’m doing? I could have sworn I said ‘stop.’ ”
He ignored that bit of dryness to say, “I wonder where else you would hide weapons.”
She tried to tell him, “In my—”
“Shh.” He put a finger to her lips. “You could give up all your hiding places, but, you understand, I would still have to see for myself.”
He might as well have just called her a liar. That was what he was implying, that he couldn’t trust her to be truthful about it. And he might even be right—when it came to her weapons. But what he was doing was so outrageous, this couldn’t be normal procedure in situations like this.
“You could have found a woman to search me,” she pointed out indignantly.
“And shirk my duty?”
His expression suddenly turned distinctly sensual. She was actually arrested, fascinated for the briefest moment. But then he moved to the side, just far enough to yank her skirt and petticoats up so high, one of her legs was completely exposed. She shrieked in outrage.
“Ah, the boot, of course,” he said, staring at another one of her weapons.
He bent her leg so he could reach her boot without moving too much. She tried to knee him. All that did was bring her boot closer to his hand so he could take the dagger and toss it aside. Then he ran his hand up her leg, around it, and under it, when he could see she had no other weapons strapped there.
“I’m going to scream, and you’re going to lose your job,” she warned him.
“If you scream, I might have to kiss you to silence you. Not that anyone would dare enter my quarters to investigate, so all it will get you is a kiss. Are you asking me to kiss you?”
“No!”
“You’re sure?”
“You’re despicable!” she hissed.
“You didn’t think so earlier when you melted on me.”
Her blush was instant, and something sweet stirred inside her with the memory of that kiss, but it quickly soured when he flipped her over and ran his hands down her back and her sides, over her derriere, then slowly down her other leg. At least that one wasn’t exposed. He chuckled when he came to her other boot.
“Another one?” He tossed the second dagger aside. “Any more?” She clamped her mouth shut, making him add, “That probably means yes.”
Her hands were free. She pulled back her sleeve and removed the poniard strapped to her wrist and threw it toward the other weapons. “Are you satisfied now, you contemptible brute?” she said scathingly. “You could have just asked for them! I wouldn’t have tried to retain them to protect myself if I had your protection instead. But this isn’t my idea of protection.”
He stood up abruptly and yanked her up with him. She only caught a glimpse of the furious expression on his face before he tossed her over his shoulder like a sack. His anger frightened her more than his manhandling, and she couldn’t imagine what had brought it forth so quickly. Had she merely struck a nerve? Or was it because that last weapon was so well concealed, he probably wouldn’t have found it? But she didn’t want him to know he was intimidating her.
“You’ve already behaved like a barbarian. Must you prove it beyond a doubt now? Put me down!”
He didn’t. He toted her like that across the parlor and deeper into his quarters. They passed two other rooms in that newer building, then they were inside the old fortress walls and crossing through a long, rectangular storage room that also contained a few cots for sleeping. The meager light came from numerous high windows on the inner wall facing the ward. The outer wall had no openings at all.
The next room they entered was also long, but rows of barred doors were on either side. A place to keep prisoners obviously. It was quiet, so possibly no one was currently being detained. And more fool her to think they would pass through this area as well. . . .
Chapter Fifteen
ALANA WAS SET DOWN in the center of a large cell. The wide, barred door was left open, but the captain stood firmly in front of it. His expression was under control, stoic, but she didn’t doubt the anger was still there. Why else would he bring her to a prison cell?
“Playtime is over, wench.” He was referring to what had just happened out in the other room, amusing for him, certainly, but nothing but frustrating for her, since she’d been unable to stop him. He added, “You can remove your clothes or I will remove them for you.”
Oh, God, she wasn’t expecting to hear that! “Why?! I don’t have any more weapons on me, I swear!”
“You proved more crafty in your concealment than I gave you credit for. Now we will make sure there are no more surprises.” She started to back away from him. “Very well. I don’t mind assisting you.”
Desperately, she tried to dodge around him to the door, but that only put her within reach of his hands sooner. She fought him when he reached for the fastenings on her dress. They were in the front like on most of the clothes she’d brought on this trip, because she wasn’t traveling with a maid. He had to put an arm around her waist to hold her tight to him, so he was working one-handed, but that hand kept brushing against her breasts, deliberately she didn’t doubt. The fear she’d felt was gone, outrage taking precedence. She squirmed and pushed to get loose from his arm, slapped or pulled his hand away, but he just patiently brought it back to continue.
Before long she was panting from the exertion of trying to stop him, which wasn’t working, making her realize she was only prolonging the inevitable. She hadn’t looked at him yet. She was too busy pushing and pulling his hand away. But she didn’t want to see the determination that had to be on his face while she was still hoping for a reprieve, and that he’d stop before she was completely naked.
When her dress finally gaped open, she put her effort into holding it closed, which prompted him to say, “You know, we can do this on the bed instead.” She made a gasping sound. “No? Too bad.”
She looked up at him then. Her breath caught in her throat. No amusement was in his eyes, but something so intense burned there it brought a flush to her skin. He wanted her! That knowledge caused a shiver of excitement to run through her. She had to muster all her anger to fight it down, but all she ended up doing was standing there doing nothing!
Her sleeves slipped down her arms. Several tugs at her waist released her petticoats. Suddenly her dress and petticoats pooled at her feet.
“You’re too beautiful,” he said in wonder, his eyes moving s
lowly over what he’d revealed. But then abruptly he schooled his expression again when he added, “What a good job the men who put you up to this deception did in choosing you as an imposter. Deliberate? Did they hope you could seduce me from my duty?”
Her? He was the one practicing seduction! But he seemed angry again at the thoughts he’d just expressed. He lifted her off her feet so he could kick the last of her outer garments aside. Then he grabbed the only chair in the cell, set it in the middle of the room, and thrust her down in it.
Sitting there in her chemise, her drawers, her stockings, and her boots, she’d never before been so embarrassed in her life. That brought her own anger back. And the captain’s standing in front of her, still looking down at his handiwork, intensified it.
“What is your guardian’s name?”
She clamped her mouth shut, glaring at him. Did he really expect her to be cooperative now? She was too furious to be afraid again. The way he’d just treated her was utterly barbaric, confirming her negative opinion of this country.
But her silence made him lean down, putting his face near hers, to tell her in a deceptively soft voice, “Do not mistake what is happening here, wench. You are now a prisoner and you will answer my questions. I already regret leaving you these.” He plucked casually at the ties of her chemise. “That can be corrected.”
She drew in her breath. Oh, God, he would, too. The fear she’d been trying to ignore with her anger wouldn’t be ignored any longer.
He stood back to watch her closely, those blue eyes assessing, ready to pounce on the slightest change in her expression. Nothing at all was sensually lambent about them now. Torture was still considered a prime way to extract information from prisoners in many countries, and this country was less enlightened than most. Had that method been used on the imposters when they had shown up? No, surely her father wouldn’t allow that—if he was told.
She asked abruptly, “You are going to inform my father of my presence? Eventually?”
When Passion Rules Page 9