by Day Leclaire
“Yes.” He was incredibly worried.
“Then why did you let her do it?”
He hadn’t wanted to but she’d insisted, threatening to reveal his plans if he didn’t allow her to participate in the abduction. “It was necessary,” Merrick limited himself to saying.
“She mentioned there were reasons for what she did,” Alyssa said slowly. She settled onto her back. “Were they the same reasons you have? To make sure the elections are fair?”
He hesitated. He’d assumed that’d been what Miri had meant at the time, but since then he’d had several long hours to reconsider her words. Something in her tone had disturbed him, though he’d been unable to pinpoint what. With anyone else, he’d have managed it, had been trained to do precisely that. But his feelings for Miri interfered with his training, clouding his logic with emotion.
He narrowed his gaze on Alyssa. She’d proven herself a shrewd judge of character when it came to von Folke. Perhaps she’d picked up on whatever he’d missed. “Something’s bothering you about what Miri said. What?”
Alyssa shrugged and her robe parted to reveal the soft skin of her throat and shoulders. “Her comment sounded…personal.”
Personal. The longer he thought about it, the more certain he became that Alyssa was correct. He could see it now—the quiet despair in Miri’s green eyes, the stalwart determination in her stance, the way she’d flinched when von Folke’s name had been mentioned in connection with Alyssa’s. Hell. Why hadn’t he seen it before? He should have. Another concern to contemplate during the endless hours of the night.
“Go to sleep,” he told Alyssa. He needed to think without distraction—and she’d already proven herself a huge one. “Tomorrow is going to be difficult enough as it is.”
“Why?”
He sighed. “You ask a lot of questions, Princess.”
“Yes, I do. And here’s one more…” She rolled over to face him and her subtle perfume invaded his senses once again, threatening his sanity. “Are you certain you want to go through with this?”
It wasn’t the first time the question had been posed, and Merrick didn’t hesitate in his response. “The future of Verdonia depends on it.”
She moistened her lips, choosing her words with care. “Eventually you’ll be caught. You realize that, don’t you? What will happen to you when you are? Will you be sent to prison?”
“Maybe. Or banished. It depends on who catches me.”
“But if you send me back—”
So. She’d found a new angle of attack, one he cut off without compunction. “Enough, Alyssa. Prison or banishment, I’ll deal with the consequences when they occur.”
“What about Prince Brandt? What will he do to you? You said there were lines he wouldn’t cross. Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
“He won’t be pleased that I’ve taken away his best chance at the throne.” That had to be the understatement of the century. “Not that it matters. Whatever occurs as a result of my actions is an acceptable penalty.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m quite serious.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me?”
“Of course not.” But he caught the flicker of concern that gave lie to her claim. The temptation to touch her became too much and he stroked his hand along the curve of her cheek and down the length of her neck. She shivered beneath the caress.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
He spoke without volition, drawn to tell her the truth regardless of the consequences. “I’m honor bound to protect Verdonia from you.”
“Am I such a threat?”
“A threat to my country.” His mouth twisted into a ghost of a smile. “But a far worse threat to my honor.”
As though to prove it, he lowered his head and captured her lips. They were every bit as soft and lush as he remembered, honey sweet and welcoming. A half-hearted protest slid from her mouth to his and he absorbed it, wanting to absorb all of her in every way possible.
How could she have been willing to give herself to von Folke? Didn’t she realize it was criminal? More criminal than his abduction of her, and he told her as much with sharp, swift kisses. Then he sank back between her lips, reacquainting himself with every warm inch within.
He knew her mouth now. Laid claim to it. Drank from it. Possessed it, just as he planned to possess her. She went boneless in his arms, a surrendering that was every bit as wrong as it was overwhelmingly right.
The instant he released her mouth she whispered his name and it shivered between them into the velvety silence of the night. “You promised,” she said.
“What did I promise?”
“That you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what?”
Her head moved restlessly on the pillow. “I can’t remember.”
“Neither can I.” Nor did he want to.
He found her mouth again and there was no more talking. Lips clung, then parted before unerringly finding each other again. Hands brushed, tangled, then released. Sweet murmurs filled the room, broken words that shouldn’t have any meaning, but somehow spoke volumes.
Desire fired his blood, filling his heart and mind, crowding out rational thought. He needed more. Wanted the woman in his arms as he’d never wanted anything before. Clothes impeded him, taunting him, as they came between him and the warm, soft skin he so desperately craved. Skin that teased him with an irresistible perfume that had burrowed deep into his subconscious.
He found the belt that kept Alyssa from him. The knot fought his efforts to release it. And then it gave up the struggle, just as the woman had. He parted the coarse terrycloth and found the silken flesh within, soft and fragrant and burning hot.
“I swear, I’ll make this good for you.”
But the second he’d said the words, he knew he’d lost her. She stiffened within his arms and the desperate heat that had burned in her eyes only moments before faded, replaced with horrified distress. The princess had awoken from her enchantment and discovered she wasn’t with Prince Charming. Far from it.
Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. “I want you to stop.”
Desire rode Merrick hard and it took every ounce of effort to pull back from the edge. “Easy, Princess. I’ve stopped.”
But his assurances had little effect. Panic held her in its grip and wouldn’t let go gently. “You claim you’re honor bound to protect all of Verdonia. Doesn’t that protection extend to me, as well?” she demanded. “Or does your code of honor allow you to rape helpless women?”
She couldn’t have chosen a more effective insult. He tamped down on his anger with only limited success. “It wouldn’t be rape, and you damn well know it.”
“Maybe not. But it wouldn’t be honorable, either. Not when I’m being held prisoner. And not when you can’t be certain I haven’t given in because I fear the consequences if I don’t.”
He swore, long and violently. He’d never had his honor called into question. Not ever. Even so, he knew she was right, which disgusted him all the more. If matters weren’t so desperate, he’d never have abducted her in the first place. He told her there were lines a man didn’t cross. But hadn’t he just stepped over one of them? Hell, he’d run full tilt over it, which bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Honor was everything to him, as was duty. He’d had a lifetime’s training in each and in one fell swoop, had destroyed both. But no matter how far he’d sunk, forcing himself on a woman was unimaginable.
Sweeping the edges of her robe closed, he secured the belt, making certain every inch of her was covered, from neck to ankle. “Turn over,” he ordered. “No more talking.”
And no more touching. He needed every remaining hour to recharge his batteries because he could predict exactly what sort of trouble the morning would bring.
Eventually his prediction was proven all too correct. At dawn the next day Merrick awoke—as he was certain he would—with guns pointed at his head.
Fo
ur
Alyssa stirred, switching from soft, sweet dreams to heart-pounding alertness in a single breath. She didn’t understand what caused the sudden burst of fear. She only knew that it slapped through her, causing her pulse to race and a bitter metallic burn to scald her tongue. She started to speak but Merrick’s arm tightened in clear warning and she fell silent.
“Don’t move, sweetheart.” Merrick whispered the instruction, his mouth nuzzled close to her ear. “I’ll protect you. Just do exactly what I say. And…trust me.”
Trust him? Of course she trusted him. The thought was immediate, instinctive and totally wrong. In the next instant, her brain kicked into gear and she remembered who he was, what he’d done. How his actions had put her mother’s life in jeopardy. And she remembered a lifetime of her mother’s warnings—never trust a man. They’ll always betray you. No, she didn’t trust him. Not in the least.
“Squeeze my hand if you’re ready.”
With no other choice, she did as he instructed and he shifted her within his arms, just the gentlest of movements, as if they were lovers easing into a more comfortable position. And then he seemed to explode. One instant she was held in the sweetest of embraces and the next she found herself cocooned in pillows with her face pressed against Merrick’s broad back.
He’d somehow grown during the night, turning into a human wall. It was the only explanation for how he’d become twice as tall and broad as he’d been just hours ago. The muscles across his back were roped into taut steely cables, contracting smoothly in preparation for…for what, she wasn’t quite certain, other than it would undoubtedly be violent. She dared one quick peek around her human Stonehenge and stopped breathing.
There were six of them. Each wore the sort of black special ops gear that her abductors had the previous day. And each held an assault rifle pointed directly at Merrick’s head. She shuddered. Not good. Not good at all. She could sense Merrick’s compulsion to act, which would have only one horrific outcome. She needed to put an end to their little standoff, and fast, before matters escalated out of control. Without giving herself time to consider, she rolled out from behind him and scrambled to the far side of the mattress.
One of the gunmen caught her by the shoulders and dragged her from the bed, his grip painfully tight. “Ouch! Let go of me. I’m surrendering, you idiot. See?” She held her palms up and out. “This means surrender.”
Merrick hadn’t moved from his crouched position on the bed. He simply cut his eyes toward the man who held her and said, “Take your hands off her.”
He issued the order in a soft voice, barely above a whisper. But something in the tone had the ability to liquefy bone. Everyone froze for a brief instant and the man she’d been grappling with released her. Amazing. Then the leader of the group barked out an order and she was once again wrapped up in a crushing hold. Worse, Merrick received the brunt of the leader’s displeasure, taking a fist to the jaw.
She cried out in protest, not that anyone listened to her. The assailants pulled Merrick from the bed. It required four of them to secure him and she took a vicious pleasure in that. If they didn’t have guns, she suspected that even six to one odds would bring into question the outcome of this little sortie. She’d have put every last penny she owned on Merrick. Unfortunately, guns were an issue and he must have realized as much because he stopped struggling.
He stood immobile a short distance from her, topping the four men surrounding him by a good three or four inches. She’d heard the term “noble savage” before but until that moment she’d never fully appreciated the meaning. Dressed in black boxers and endless muscle, he exuded elemental male at its finest and most noble. But the expression on his face read pure savage. He addressed the leader of the assailants in Verdonian, a man she suddenly recognized as Tolken, von Folke’s right-hand man. Her heart sank. Not assailants, she realized, but a rescue party.
“Yes, old friend, I know what’s at stake,” Tolken replied in English, apparently in response to Merrick’s question. “And it’s the only reason you’re still alive.”
Merrick’s eyes filled with fierce conviction. “This is wrong, Tolk. You know that. Our people should be free to choose who they want for their king, not have it orchestrated for them. How many times did we discuss that very issue in university?”
“Silence!”
The order came from one of the men holding Merrick, who followed with a fist to the gut. Not that it had much impact, Alyssa realized, biting back a cry of protest. Lord, the man must have steel-belted abs. Tolken rapped out a reprimand and the man who’d hit Merrick stepped back, looking sullen.
“You’ll have to excuse his manners,” Tolken said. “He’s understandably upset. You took something that didn’t belong to you and there is a price to be paid for that. Consider those two blows a down payment.”
It was too much. Alyssa fought the man restraining her. Or did he think he was protecting her? Not that it mattered. She didn’t like being held by him any better than she liked the attack on Merrick. “He’s unarmed. You have no right to hit him.”
It was pointless to struggle, but she didn’t care. She wanted their attention on her. It never occurred to her to wonder why she’d be so intent on protecting her abductor. She only knew she didn’t want him harmed. She kicked at her captor, her heels pounding against vulnerable knees and ankles while she sharpened her fingernails on defenseless skin.
The recipient of her attack must have had enough of her antics. He gripped her wrists in one hand and lifted his other, planning to backhand her. “Stop, you fool!” Tolken commanded, furious. “Have you lost your mind? That’s Princess Alyssa, the duchess of Celestia.”
Merrick didn’t wait to see whether the order was obeyed. Though his arms were pinioned, his legs were free and he put them to good use, lashing out with his foot and knocking the man to the floor. It earned him another fist. Dropping to his knees, he shook his hair from his face and fixed his gaze on Tolken.
“If your man touches her, or even attempts to touch her again, he’s dead.”
Once again, the words were barely above a whisper, and once again they had an immediate effect on the rescue party. It was subtle, but more noticeable this time, perhaps because she was in a better position to observe. Every one of them stiffened, including Tolken, coming to attention the way subordinates do in the presence of a superior.
As soon as Merrick saw he had their full attention, he added, “And if I don’t succeed in killing him, von Folke will.”
Tolken hesitated only a moment. She could see the inner battle he fought played out in the souring of his expression. Part of him wanting to defy Merrick’s demand, to establish who was in control. The other part recognized the validity of those two simple threats. With a harsh curse, he barked out another order, this one in Verdonian, an order that had the man holding her scurrying from the room. They must not have considered her much of a threat because no one else attempted to secure her. It was a reasonable assessment. She wasn’t a threat…at least not in a physical sense.
Merrick maintained eye contact with Tolken, not sparing her so much as a glance. “She won’t go with you until she knows her mother’s safe.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “He’s right. I’m not leaving here until I talk to her.”
Tolken dismissed her with barely a glance. “You will leave when we tell you. As for your mother, Prince Brandt will allow you to speak to her when he sees fit.”
“Your Highness,” she retorted icily.
The man frowned. “What?”
“You will address me as Your Highness, or as ma’am. But don’t you ever again speak to me in that dismissive tone. Not if you value your current position.”
Shock slid across Tolken’s face, followed by a wash of mottled red. His hands collapsed into fists—fists itching to wrap around her neck if she didn’t miss her guess. No doubt Merrick could sympathize. As though aware of his regard, she spared him a brief glance and he gave the barest nod.
“I can’t do that, Your Highness,” Tolken said through gritted teeth.
Folding her arms across her chest, she dropped to the edge of the mattress. “Then I’m not going anywhere.” One of his men took a step toward her and she shot him a warning look, deciding to follow Merrick’s lead. “Don’t even think about it. I may not have the power to stop you right now, but as Prince Brandt’s wife, I plan to have a long and vindictive memory. If you dare put your hands on me again, I’ll make you pay. And I’ll make sure it’s both inventive and painful.”
To her surprise the man believed her. He stopped in his tracks glancing helplessly from her to Tolken. Behind him Merrick’s lips twitched, forcing her to struggle at maintaining her “ice princess” demeanor. Damn the man. Didn’t he understand how difficult she found all this? They had guns, for crying out loud. Prince Brandt held her mother hostage. And she’d been abducted—twice in two days. It wasn’t a game and it sure as hell wasn’t amusing, no matter how absurd the situation had become.
The stalemate lasted for endless seconds before Tolken caved. Plunging a hand into his pocket, he yanked out a cell phone and placed a call. Alyssa was fairly certain he spoke directly to Prince Brandt. They conversed for several minutes in Verdonian before he handed her the phone.
“Ally? Baby, is that you?”
Static sounded in her ear, but Alyssa could still make out her mother’s distinctive voice and it brought tears to her eyes. “Hi, Mom. Are you okay?”
“What’s going on?” Fear rippled through her question. “What’s happened? Why is everyone so angry? Where are you?”
“Everything’s fine, Mom.” She used her most soothing tone, one that came naturally whenever she spoke to her mother. After all, she’d had a lifetime worth of experience calming her, reassuring her, taking care of her the best she knew how. “I’ll be there soon. I promise.” Before she could say more, Tolken yanked the phone from her hand. “I wasn’t finished,” she protested.