‘I would stand trial in Santaliana?’
‘You’ll appear before a judge at an official court hearing, but I doubt the case will proceed to trial. And, yes, it’ll be in Santaliana, or perhaps in a completely neutral court. You’ll be Santalianan royalty, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be above the law and we’ll have to make certain it doesn’t look as though I’m trying to influence the outcome.’ His right hand went up to rub at the base of his skull. ‘You’ll need to face an independent, public hearing, but I can guarantee you it’ll be impartial and I’m certain the judge will rule that you acted in self-defence.’
A public court appearance for murder. Dear heaven! ‘I’d have to publicly recount all the sordid details of that night,’ she whispered to herself.
‘I swear I’ll stand by you. Right now, however, the court hearing is the least of your worries, India.’ His tone was firm but gentle. ‘The immediate concern is getting you out of here safely.’
There was a knock on the door, before it opened and the ambassador walked in. ‘The priest has arrived, but there’s also been an increase in the number of military vehicles surrounding the embassy. I urge you to wed immediately.’
A dull ache pervaded her temples.
Gabriel offered her his hand. ‘India?’
Her hand felt so small, so inconsequential in his. But in placing her hand in his, she felt his strength and his protection and she believed in him completely. Nobody had ever put themselves out on a limb for her like this. Nobody had ever cared enough to put her needs above their own. A ball of emotion lodged itself high in her chest, pressing heavily and making it difficult to breathe normally.
‘Thank you, Gabriel, for all you’re doing.’
He slid Jeremy’s engagement ring off her finger and put it in his pocket. ‘I’ll ensure this is returned safely to Artarmon. I’ll also make certain he knows that my ring has replaced it.’
Chapter 11
‘I pronounce you man and wife.’
The priest’s words throughout the entire ceremony had been so rushed that it took India a few seconds to digest the six words that tied her to Gabriel in matrimony.
‘Sign here.’ Gabriel pointed to a spot on the paper that lay on the desk in front of her.
A wedding certificate.
Her signature was all that was required.
Wordlessly, she picked up the pen Gabriel had just used, and signed her name on the line under his confident, slashing pen strokes.
‘And here.’ He slotted another piece of paper on top of the wedding certificate. ‘This one is my authority giving you status as a diplomat of Santaliana.’
‘Quickly, mes amis, there’s no time to lose,’ Ambassador Rousseau urged. ‘Mawandi’s troops have us completely surrounded and our intelligence tells us that his senior general has just left the military compound to make his way here. You and the rest of your party must go down to the basement immediately. Germaine will lead the way.’
‘We’re hiding in the basement?’ India asked fearfully. How long would they be safe there? ‘I thought we were leaving the embassy.’
‘We are leaving,’ Gabe told her. Turning to the ambassador he said, ‘Thank you for your help. We won’t forget this.’
‘De rien, mon ami.’ He moved his shoulders in a typical Gallic shrug and said, ‘You were hardly here before your security guards overpowered my men, stole a vehicle and made your escape. What could we do?’
As he took India’s hand in the warm security of his own and they followed Germaine out through the door, Gabe explained, ‘Knowing Mawandi is unstable, the French government planned for an emergency escape. The mining company has made a tunnel under the street from this embassy right through the middle of the town to their mining headquarters. We’ll take the tunnel to the central office of the mining corporation, and once we’re there we’ll be picked up by the mining company helicopter and flown half an hour away to the airstrip operated by them. There’s a Gulfstream being refuelled for us as we speak.’
‘All we have to do is make it to the aircraft?’
‘Yes. Once we’re airborne we should be fine. There’s no air force, and as far as we know, Mawandi has no missiles.’
Gabriel nodded in greeting to the pilots, flight attendant and security staff who’d landed in Bagazin with them. The group was amassed in front of a bookcase.
India watched on in amazement as Germaine reached forward to the spine of one book and pulled back. It was just like something from a Hollywood film as the bookcase opened up and revealed a secret doorway.
‘Follow me,’ Germaine urged as he proceeded to open the door and walk down a long flight of stairs.
When the last of the security staff entered the tunnel, Germaine flicked a switch. The door closed as the bookcase slid back into place. For a split second they were all plunged into darkness, and there were a few gasps before an alternate lighting system was activated.
Germaine gestured for them to follow him. ‘It will take about twenty minutes,’ he whispered.
The twenty minutes felt like two hours even though they moved as quickly as possible through what turned out to be a complicated tunnel system. At one point, it seemed to be taking so long, she wondered whether Germaine had taken a wrong turn, but their guide’s steps were confident.
Every second that ticked by, India was closer to freedom but she worried something would happen to stop the party reaching their destination.
What would happen to everyone in the group if they were caught?
She shuddered and her steps faltered. She should go back. She should hand herself over to Mawandi and face her fate. If she did, surely the rest of the group would be spared?
Gabriel put his arm around her shoulders and held her close to his side as he urged her to walk on.
Placing one foot in front of the other, it struck her anew that President Mawandi had no mercy. India thought of the way he’d executed the person who’d come forward with information about Charles Mawandi’s death. The poor camp worker had known the Hamiltons were safely out of Africa. He’d thought he’d be setting his family—his whole village—up for life by betraying the Hamilton family and naming India as the murderer. Instead, he’d lost his life.
No. There’d be no point in handing herself in. It wouldn’t stop everyone in the party being executed—even Gabriel.
Germaine came to a sudden stop at what appeared to be a dead end, and put his hand up to gesture for everyone to do the same.
India stretched up on tiptoes to place her mouth next to Gabriel’s ear. ‘We’ve taken a wrong turn?’
He shook his head. ‘There’s only one path,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘The other turns lead to dead ends. It’s been designed to slow down the enemy if they ever infiltrate the tunnels in pursuit of the embassy staff as they flee.’
It was so well-thought out, India’s confidence grew.
While Gabe had been whispering, Germaine had moved to the side of what she’d thought was a dead end. ‘Okay,’ he said just loud enough for everyone in the party to hear. He bent down and removed a pile of rocks to reveal a hatch. Opening the hatch, he indicated below. ‘We climb down this ladder, walk another five metres then climb up another ladder. Then we’ll be at the office.’
India’s heart was beating so loudly, she was sure everyone around her must hear it.
If the circumstances weren’t so dire, this would be quite an adventure.
‘Okay?’ Gabe asked.
She nodded.
Unexpectedly, he bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. ‘We’ll be fine,’ he told her quietly.
Was it possible for her heart to actually jump in her chest? It certainly felt like that’s what it’d done.
There was no more time to contemplate her reactions. Germaine disappeared down the ladder, followed by Gabriel’s head of security and Gabriel. Then it was India’s turn.
Almost there, she assured herself, as she focused on Gabriel’s head below her.
It was just as Germaine had described, and once they’d climbed the second ladder, he pulled a lever and they entered what could best be described as a panic room.
Germaine spoke in rapid French into the intercom, and thirty seconds later the door opened and the group was being hustled out of the room, through a long corridor and up another flight of stairs, to the top of the building where a helicopter waited.
Germaine split the group into two. ‘Get on board, Your Majesty,’ Germaine ordered above the noise of the engine. ‘As soon as this chopper takes off, the second one,’ he pointed up to the night sky towards the lights of an approaching helicopter, ‘will pick up the rest of your party and follow.’
Before she could even thank Germaine, Gabriel had his hand on India’s head, pushing it down and encouraging her to stoop as he propelled her forward, beneath the rotating blades and onto the helicopter.
India didn’t dare look out into the darkness of the night as they lifted up seconds later. Instead, she buried her head into Gabriel’s chest and took refuge against the solid sanctuary of his body. His arms firmed around her and even though she knew they still had to make it to the airfield and the waiting jet, she felt a sense of security she’d never known. There was an innate rightness in Gabriel being her protector. He exuded a force field of safety, and she could easily believe that all she needed to do was stay in close proximity to him and she’d never come to any harm.
Chapter 12
Hours later, another surge of protectiveness washed through Gabriel as he lifted India out of the plush seat of the Gulfstream jet and cradled her against his body. The aircraft had been chartered by the CEO of the French mining operation in Bagazin, but flown by Gabriel’s pilots.
Only another couple of hours and they’d be touching down in Santaliana.
It was no wonder his new queen didn’t even stir as he sat down on a larger lounge with her. It’d been an incredibly fraught day culminating in their hasty marriage ceremony, and their escape from the embassy and out of Mawandi’s reach.
India hadn’t relaxed until the pilot had announced over the PA system that they’d cleared Bagazin’s airspace. At that time, the hardened security team had cheered from their seats at the rear of the aircraft and Gabe had known an enormous sense of relief.
India hadn’t even smiled. She’d been exceptionally quiet, and when he’d prompted her to speak, she’d told him how guilty she felt knowing that the lives of the entire party had been endangered because of her.
‘We’re all safe now,’ he’d told her simply, before they both lapsed back into silence.
Now he realised they were both trying to absorb the fact that they were married. Everything had happened so quickly, it’d been surreal. India had voiced her vows tremulously while her entire slender frame had shaken hard—so hard it’s a wonder some seismic recorder hadn’t registered the tremors as an impending earthquake.
There’d been no congratulations offered, no photographers and no well-wishers. The entire atmosphere throughout the service of necessity had been tense. Gabriel had half-expected Mawandi’s troops to move on the embassy and force their way through the gates and into the building. His security staff had been instructed to take whatever action was required to keep India safe.
Thankfully there hadn’t been any shots ringing out—no shouts raising alarms that the armoured tanks were about to crash through the perimeter fences—nothing to disturb the marriage ceremony, which had lasted all of five minutes.
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. The danger was over and thankfully nobody had been killed or injured. The pilots had received word via a radio call from the mining company that the embassy staff members were also unharmed.
Eyes blinking open, he looked down at India.
The immediate physical danger might be over, but now there were new threats to be faced. Gabe had a new wife—a wife he’d married to protect, even knowing it was his fault his last wife had died.
Santaliana had a new queen—a queen who was about to stand before a court hearing for her role in the death of a dictator’s son.
He suppressed self-mocking laughter. All these years he’d tried to bring honour to the family name. He’d ranted and raved because Devereaux’s highly publicised wild behaviour had shamed the House of de la Croix. Now he’d married an alleged murderess and placed enormous political stress on Santaliana’s relationship with France.
He stifled an inward groan. The road ahead would be rocky, but he wasn’t without friends and allies. The moment they touched down in Santaliana, he’d meet with Devereaux and with Mackenzie. He’d already phoned ahead and apprised Dev of the situation.
Dev had been a solid support, assuring Gabe that both he and his wife would do anything and everything they could to help. A former image consultant, his sister-in-law would be certain to have suggestions as to how best to handle the negative publicity that would ensue.
And if the fallout was too great, Gabe fully intended to go ahead with his backup plan and abdicate. Six months ago, the very thought of leaving Devereaux in charge of Santaliana would’ve appalled him. Devereaux had built a reputation as one of the most notorious playboys in Europe—partying hard and being reported by newspapers as having a different woman in his bed every night of the week. The Prince of Santaliana had reached a point where Gabe had wondered if his brother was completely irredeemable.
Now Gabe was aware of Dev’s subterfuge and of the reason for it, he had no doubts that his brother would rule the kingdom extremely well. And there wasn’t a single soul in Santaliana who hadn’t embraced Mackenzie as their new princess and who wouldn’t welcome her if she became their new queen. The population also adored Mac’s ten-year-old daughter, Eliza.
Gabe couldn’t help smiling when he thought of young Eliza and the mayhem she caused in what had previously been a sterile environment in the castle. Since she’d moved in, there seemed to be one uproarious scrape or another that she was involved in on an almost daily basis. Devereaux certainly had his work cut out for him if he was to rein in his stepdaughter’s misadventures.
The castle had come alive with Eliza’s presence—more so than it’d ever been when Gabe, Eden and Dev had been children. Santaliana could use a few more children in the royal household.
Heaviness settled in Gabe’s heart.
The more he thought about it, the more sense it made for him to abdicate. Devereaux and Mackenzie should be the new king and queen. Together, they would create a family.
Gabe may have a new wife, but that was only because he’d had to marry India to save her. It remained to be seen whether he could keep her safe—and God help him, he’d sell his soul to ensure that he did. But he wasn’t planning on pressing his luck. He couldn’t possibly father a child knowing he might inadvertently create a situation that caused that child to die. The loss of his parents and his sister had been gut-wrenching enough and the guilt he carried over Angelique’s death was a heavy burden to bear, but the loss of a child would destroy him.
Unable to stop himself, Gabe used his hand to lift the heavy curtain of India’s hair. Desire struck hard. Sheer force of habit in putting his honour before his personal needs had only just made him manage to control it.
He wanted this woman and had from the first moment he’d seen her years ago.
They were married.
There would be no divorce.
He knew she desired him, but what chance did their marriage have when she’d married him under duress and when she’d planned her future with Artarmon?
Gabe had literally removed another man’s engagement ring from her finger. He’d replaced Artarmon’s diamond with the ring worn by the monarchs of the de la Croix house. The heavy gold signet ring, which bore the coat of arms of Santaliana royalty, was a sign to the world that India was his. It was a temporary sign, and would soon be replaced. He’d already phoned the royal jeweller and ordered that a ring be especially made and ready to present to India the next morning. Hav
ing his commands met swiftly was an advantage of his royal status.
But even though he’d instructed the jeweller very specifically about the engagement and wedding rings he wanted made, rings were just a symbol. The need to make her his in reality blazed through him.
Would their mutual passion be a sturdy enough foundation upon which they could build their marriage, or would India grow to resent him?
She’d had no more choice than Angelique in the matter of her marriage to him.
Angelique had been pressured into the marriage by her father for political reasons. India now bore the title of the queen of his kingdom because if she hadn’t agreed to marry him, she’d be in a cell in Bagazin now awaiting public execution.
Some choice.
The pressure built in his chest and made it difficult to breathe deeply. He replayed the scene from mere hours ago when he’d told her she was to be his bride. There’d been her utter shock when he’d made the announcement. Shock had turned to sheer horror when he’d been adamant there’d be no divorce, and—when he’d told her she wasn’t to see Artarmon again—she’d hung her head and been unable to look at him.
When she’d finally agreed—and she hadn’t exactly jumped at his offer even knowing what alternate fate awaited her—there’d been such tragedy written on her features. She’d said she was sorry about the marriage even while her innate good manners had made her express gratitude.
Gratitude.
The word scraped along his nerves.
He didn’t want India’s gratitude. What he wanted was her love.
Could he win it? Could he build on the sexual attraction and the enjoyment they’d had in each other’s company and carve out a lasting future of happiness together?
The Formidable King Page 15