She didn’t think he’d heard her, but he did finally glance back at her for her answer to his terms for striking a bargain so he wouldn’t allude to their lovemaking again.
“Fair enough,” she said.
“Good.” He brought his boots to the bed so he could sit to put them on. He then went right back on his word by adding, “As much as I would rather you stay naked in my bed, your trunks are in the other room. They can be brought in here now.”
“How did you—?”
“I sent some men to check the inns in the city yesterday while we were at the festival. I guessed they would find your trunks in one of them.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You were looking for my trunks so you could search them, weren’t you?”
“Of course! I expected to find two or three more arsenals.”
His humor gave her pause, and he was just short of laughing again. Teasing? Him?
He even added, “I know, too thoughtful and considerate of me, eh, to think you might like a change of clothes—especially when I liked you wearing mine.”
She actually managed not to blush, she wasn’t sure how. “You found no weapons,” she mumbled.
“No—I didn’t find your guardian, Poppie, either.”
She raised a brow. “Did you really think you would?”
“I had hoped.”
“I told you he doesn’t know who hired him to kill me—yet. Why can’t you leave him alone to do what he does best, protect me.”
“Because he has the answers that you don’t have.”
What did that mean? But Christoph was already heading around the bed toward the door, and she felt a degree of panic rising that he was going to leave her alone and defenseless once more.
“Wait. I need another weap—”
She didn’t even get to finish, he swung around so fast. But it wasn’t annoyance in his expression when he said, “I am your weapon. You won’t be left again beyond my sight or hearing.” Then he grinned as his eyes touched briefly on his bed. “My ‘duty’ has never been this pleasant before.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
IT WAS A GOOD thing she dashed out of the bed to find the robe Christoph had tossed aside last night. She barely got it belted before he returned with Boris, the two of them carrying one of her heavy trunks into the room. They left to get the other two. She didn’t move. Bringing her clothes into his bedroom couldn’t have made it more clear that she’d be sleeping there from now on—and why Christoph suddenly considered his duty so pleasant.
But there wouldn’t be a repeat of what had happened last night. He had claimed she had needed comforting, had even called it a natural urge after what had happened to her. She conceded he might be right. But the trauma was over and she had more fortitude than to succumb again to something that improper. Sharing a room would be—difficult—but it didn’t mean they’d be sharing a bed, too. He’d just have to bring in a cot or make use of the little sofa in the corner, or she would.
With the last trunk set down against the wall, Christoph waved Boris out of the room and began opening them himself. The locks were broken, reminding her that he’d already searched through her belongings.
“Get dressed,” he said. “You have a visitor.”
Her eyes flared. “My fa—?”
“No. A child. He came here early this morning asking for you. My men told him to come back later today. They weren’t going to disturb me on a matter they didn’t deem important.”
“I wish your guards wouldn’t make judgments that concern me. I should have been woken.”
“You were in my quarters. The judgment was correct and concerned me, not you. Anyone has to go through me to get to you.”
She blushed over that reminder. Did everyone know where she was spending her nights?
“But I wouldn’t have woken you even if they told me sooner,” he added. “You needed the extra sleep.”
“But Henry came back?”
He raised a brow. “The boy you traveled with? You said he was an orphan. This boy claims to have a mother who will beat him if he doesn’t come home with the gold he was promised for giving you a message. Which is it? Town urchin with an angry mother, or your orphan?”
“I haven’t a clue,” she admitted, then actually laughed. “Henry would be my guess. He must have thought that tale would get him in to see me sooner. But why don’t you leave so I can dress and then we’ll both know.”
He closed the door behind him. She dressed quickly in a high-necked, lavender day dress that looked deep purple in the dim lamplight that Christoph must have relit that morning. It had to be Henry wanting to see her, even with that improvised tale, but why so soon? She’d just spoken to Poppie yesterday, albeit far too briefly. Had he already discovered something else?
As soon as she stepped into the parlor, Henry flew into her arms. So much for his trying to pretend to be a Lubinian boy from the city who didn’t know her. She hugged him close, but she noted Christoph standing to the side watching them with interest.
“It scared the bleedin’ ’ell out o’ me when they wouldn’t take me to you,” Henry told her.
“Hush, you just came too early. As you can see, I’m fine. I have the protection of the head of security here. Nothing can happen to me under his guarding eye.”
She was speaking in English to make sure Henry understood perfectly and the captain didn’t understand at all.
Henry stepped back to eye Christoph. “’Im?”
“Yes, him. Now what brings you?”
“Is it safe to say?” Henry whispered at her.
“Yes, he doesn’t understand.”
He nodded and repeated what he’d been told. “There are two spies ’ere, the thief and another guard. Either one of ’em may try to harm you. ’E wants you to tell ’im.” Henry nodded again toward Christoph. “’E said you won’t be safe ’ere until they are both dealt with.”
She paled, even though she’d already guessed as much after that attack last night. But her reaction was too obvious for Christoph not to remark on it.
“What disturbs you?” he asked.
She didn’t hesitate to answer. This information supported what she’d told him, and she now had Poppie’s permission to say how she knew. “What I told you last night, I got that information from Poppie. Yesterday, at the festival.”
“He was there?” Christoph said, obviously surprised.
“For a few moments, yes. He said the thief and one other guard actually work for the same people who hired him eighteen years ago. He was going to follow them to find out more, but he now thinks it’s more important that you be told. They know about the bracelet, which means they know I didn’t die eighteen years ago as they thought—and they’re going to want to correct that.”
He sighed. “Or this message was merely prearranged to support your tale.”
They’d both had the same thought, but in exact opposite directions. Good Lord, he was exasperating. He’d said he would be open-minded, and yet he didn’t even try to be? Why? What did he know that she didn’t that had him so convinced that everything she’d said was a lie?
Henry, glancing between them, asked her, “’E don’t believe yer ’ere to stop a war?”
“Not yet,” she replied. “But don’t tell Poppie that if you see him. I don’t want him worrying more than he already does about me.”
Henry nodded. “I ’ave to go.”
She drew him back for another hug before pushing him toward the door. But he’d no sooner stepped outside than Christoph moved to the door as well. She blanched, afraid he was going to have Henry detained to find out exactly what message he’d brought. She knew just how intimidating he could be when he was after answers. She leapt in front of him.
“Don’t. Please.”
He glanced down at her. His hand rose to caress her cheek, but didn’t quite make it there and dropped to set her aside instead. “It’s my job, Alana.”
“I hate you and your job!”
Tha
t didn’t stop him either. He opened the door and immediately motioned the nearest guards to him. “Follow the boy into the city. Keep your distance. I want any men he talks to apprehended.”
That was worse than she’d thought! She tried to push past Christoph to warn Henry before he got too far, but an arm snagged her waist, her feet left the ground, and the door was slammed shut.
“He’ll notice them following him and will lose them,” she said, trying to convince herself more than Christoph.
“I can have the gate closed before he reaches it. Would you rather I have him imprisoned instead?”
She burst into tears. Christoph swung her around to catch her legs with his other arm and carried her back into his parlor. He moved across the room, but not to put her down. He sat on his sofa, still holding her cradled in his arms. She continued to cry, beating on his shoulder until her fist got too sore to continue.
A long time passed. Her tears were spent. Her breath returned to normal. Her fist hurt. Her heart hurt. If he put that sweet boy in one of his cold cells, she’d . . . she’d . . .
Christoph began to talk in soothing tones. “I was just a child all those years ago when the infant disappeared from the nursery. But I know who the suspects were at the time. The Bruslans, King Ernest’s family, of course, though it was too soon after the civil war that took them from the throne for them to try to regain the crown. While they had the most to gain in the long run, making sure the Stindal line didn’t prosper would merely have been a start for them.”
She didn’t know why he was suddenly volunteering information she would have liked to have heard sooner. “But they weren’t dismissed as innocent?”
“No. They were and still are the king’s worst enemies. Don’t be fooled by Karsten’s charm. He’s ruthless in his desire to become king.”
“But he was just a child himself back then,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but most of his family thought he should have been named the next king after his grandfather died. There were the disgraced nobles, too. A lot of them lost their titles and lands after the civil war. They should have been banished from the country, but Frederick’s father, newly made king, was hopeful they could redeem themselves. Some have, but some to this day remain resentful and insistent that they had only done their duty to the old king, Ernest.”
“And they’d like to see the Bruslan line back in power, since a Bruslan king would restore their titles and lands,” she guessed.
“Yes, so they couldn’t be discounted. But then no stone was left unturned. Even the more notorious assassins of the day, those with prices already on their heads, were searched for more vigorously. A few were found and questioned, but none of them appeared to be involved in the abduction. But there was also a man who lived here in the city that disappeared that same night. This got a few of the king’s advisers to thinking that the princess’s abduction was not the goal of a nefarious political plot but the work of a bold thief taking advantage of the fact that many of the royal guards were away from the palace with the king.”
She had a feeling he might be talking about Poppie’s real identity. Leonard Kastner did disappear that night, after all. And if they had been looking for a “thief” as the culprit back then, in considering all possibilities it would have been logical to conclude it might have been him.
“Is this why no one knows who tried to have me killed? Far too many suspects?”
“Spies were sent into the Bruslan stronghold, but the few who weren’t caught and killed returned with no proof. While the Bruslans laughed over Frederick’s pain, if the abduction was their handiwork, they were too cautious to claim it. It wasn’t even discovered who had taken up the reins in that family, after King Ernest’s death. The Bruslans are too numerous. Ernest had two daughters, three brothers, two uncles, all of which have had children, who’ve had more children. Even his wife, Auberta, still lives.”
Alana wanted to know if he knew anything else about Leonard Kastner and steeled herself to hear Poppie’s real name before she asked, “And that man who disappeared the same night, I suppose he was never found either?”
“No, he wasn’t. With no evidence that the infant was ever killed, and so much time gone by, it actually began to look more and more like Kastner had abducted the princess and was just too afraid to demand his ransom. Does the name sound familiar?”
Good Lord, he was interrogating her yet pretending otherwise! Even though he’d made love to her, he was still doing his job, just with subtlety now, instead of intimidation!
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” she said stiffly, and struggled to get out of his arms. “I’ve already told you why I was taken and by whom. It certainly wasn’t for any ransom, so you’re dead wrong in thinking a thief was responsible.”
“You haven’t actually answered my question, have you? Is your guardian Leonard Kastner?”
“He told me his name. He told me what his occupation used to be. He told me he was hired to kill me by some nameless lackey who worked for someone else. He didn’t go into the details of how he got to me, just that it was too easy.”
“Told you his name? Are we finally getting at the truth?”
“You’ve had that. I would have told you his name sooner, but you made it clear you wanted to apprehend him. So I decided to wait, to give him a chance to do the job he came here to do, to find out who wants me dead.”
“That’s my job, Alana. Who is he?”
“Rastibon.”
“Interesting,” Christoph said after a moment’s pause. “And actually, convenient for you to say so. That name is quite notorious here. Was it given to you at the same time this tale was related to you—or yesterday when your guardian spoke to you at the festival?”
“What the deuce are you implying now?”
He shrugged. He hadn’t let go of her despite her efforts to free herself. He was watching her too closely. He was fishing for something else, but what?
“The investigation into Kastner’s disappearance never really ended,” Christoph continued in the soothing tone he’d used earlier. “When I was appointed to this post, I thought I could view the mystery from a new perspective and even be the one to finally solve it. I questioned all of Leonard Kastner’s old neighbors again, even tracked down those who had moved out of the city. But it was just a formality.”
She raised a brow. “So you never really suspected that townsman? Why have you even mentioned him?”
“Of course he was suspected, but he was never thought to be a murderer. A not so common thief, yes, but not a killer. But I did discover that no further deaths were ever attributed to the infamous Rastibon, suggesting that he also retired about that same time. They are one and the same, aren’t they, Alana?”
And now she knew what he was fishing for. He had come to this conclusion long ago, but he still didn’t think either name belonged to Poppie. Convenient? A name given to her yesterday? He was trying to see if she would use what he’d told her to support her claim, because he still didn’t believe her!
Tiredly she said, “There’s nothing more I can tell you about this.”
“Or you won’t.”
This conversation was getting too frustrating. She strained against the arms still holding her tight in his lap. “Let me up.”
“I like you in this position.”
“I don’t.”
“I think I can win the argument.”
Of who was stronger? Good grief, she noticed it now, the humor back in his eyes. He might as well be sitting there flexing his muscles!
“You know, brute force is for those lacking in wit,” she snapped.
He burst out laughing. “You will find it very difficult to get me displeased with you today, Alana mine. I did warn you, eh?”
“Oh, please,” she said in disgust. “Stop making sexual innuendos when they are quite out of place right now. Why did you tell me everything you just did?”
“I was curious to see your reaction to the Brusla
ns.”
“You think I’ve never heard the name before yesterday? My education was as well rounded as that of any young English lord. It included a brief history of all the royal houses in Europe, including this one. I even know what you forgot to mention, that my father is actually distantly related to them, but the two sides of that family became enemies long before he was born.”
His humor was gone. “Much more than I expected you to know, which prompts the question now, did the Bruslans steal the infant not to kill her, but to raise her as one of their own and foster in her a love for them? A plot that would give them back their power once they get rid of Frederick.”
She snorted. “You’re really grasping at straws on that one. I promise you, I wasn’t raised here, and certainly not by any Bruslan.”
“I agree you weren’t raised here. I don’t agree your Poppie isn’t—”
“Oh, good grief.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “So now you think he’s a Bruslan, too? Who else are you going to accuse him of being?”
He made a tsking sound, but then he actually grinned. “Do you really expect me to tell you everything about an investigation that is still ongoing? One that you are now a part of?”
“Oh, yes, let’s not forget that,” she groused. “I think our truce just ended.”
She clamped her mouth shut so he wouldn’t doubt she meant it. He actually let go of her because of it, or so she thought. She leapt to her feet. He stood up just as fast, and before she could put more distance between them, his hands cupped her cheeks.
“We didn’t have a truce,” he told her gently. “What we have is a relationship, which you’ll find more pleasant than a truce. I won’t hurt the boy, I give you my word on that. But I will find your Poppie. I don’t have a choice in that. But if what I am beginning to suspect is true, he won’t be hurt either.”
When Passion Rules Page 17