The Prince's Bride

by Victoria Alexander

  Her heart lodged in her throat with the certain knowledge that her instincts about Borloff were right. She had no idea what he was up to but it was obviously no good. She turned toward him with a calm she didn’t feel and an imperious tone any princess would envy. “What are you doing? Unlock that door at once.”

  “I am ensuring privacy, precisely as His Highness commanded.” Borloff stood before the door, blocking any possibility of escape.

  “I don’t believe this is what Alexei had in mind.”

  “Nonetheless, the door will remain secured. We will not be here for long.” A cold, speculative look glittered in Borloff’s eye. “I should have taken care of you myself when I had the chance. Now, however, you will prove useful.”

  I should have taken care of you. The comment caught in her mind.

  “Will I?” she said with a calm she didn’t feel.

  “I find it prudent to leave Avalonia at once, and with you by my side I should have safe conduct to the border.” He dropped the key into his waistcoat pocket. “I had hoped your husband would not arrive until after sunset. It would be much easier to slip away from the palace under cover of darkness, but even the best plans can go awry.”

  “Yes, well, these things happen.” She tried to ignore the fear rising within her. Surely she misunderstood what he was saying.

  “Valentina has already fled the country, leaving me to face the consequences of our little venture alone.” He heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “I should have expected it of her, I suppose. Yet I did so hope she would have a modicum of loyalty within her. It is never wise to place your trust in a woman who is both ambitious and clever. One never knows precisely what game is being played. As for you ...” He stepped toward her. “What game are you playing, Princess?”

  Princess didn’t sound so very nice the way he said it. “Game? I have no idea what you mean.”

  “You know perfectly well what I mean,” he snapped.

  What was he talking about? She stepped back, stifled her rising panic, and smiled. “No, in truth, I don’t.”

  Borloff laughed. “Come now, His Highness has mentioned to me how much more clever you are than your initial appearance would indicate. You cannot play the pretty, empty-headed ninny with me.”

  “No?” It was probably best not to confess she wasn’t playing. She laughed lightly. “I must have lost my head for a moment. I should have known I couldn’t fool you.”

  “Yet you have.” He shook his head slowly. “I have not been able to determine your purpose in not revealing all to the prince.”

  She’s seen us. Take care of it.

  Realization slammed into Jocelyn with the force of a physical blow and it took all the control she had not to react. She should have known it sooner. Should have recognized Borloff’s voice the moment they met.

  This was the unknown man plotting against Alexei. The one in the music room on that fateful first night. The one who’d wanted her dead!

  “I confess waiting for your denunciation has been most irritating, and it is my own curiosity on that score that has brought me to the precarious spot I now find myself in.”

  “I do apologize.” She shrugged in a casual manner, as if her heart weren’t thudding in terror. “I simply did not think it was advantageous to reveal what I knew.”

  “Advantageous?” Suspicion sounded in his voice. “For whom?”

  “Myself, of course, and ...” Frantically she groped for an answer. “My husband.” Surely Rand had arrived at the palace by now? “I thought perhaps my information about Alexei’s most trusted adviser could be used to further my husband’s position here.”

  He stared for a moment, then laughed. The wicked sound echoed in the room and chilled her blood. “Excellent, Princess. Not that I believe you.”

  “You should,” she said in her haughtiest tone. The longer she could engage Borloff in conversation, the better the chances were of someone discovering she was missing. “I find I quite enjoy being a princess. My husband is, in truth, a prince, and would make an excellent ruler.”

  Borloff raised a brow. “I thought he had no interest in the throne.”

  “He doesn’t at the moment but...” She lifted her shoulders dismissively. “It’s impossible to predict how his attitude might change once he’s here and sees for himself the possibilities. And with your help ...”

  “With my help?” He studied her thoughtfully, then chuckled. “I think not. I have already been duped by one clever, ambitious woman, and I shall not fall into that trap again.” He started toward her and she backed away. Terror clogged her throat and she wanted to run, but there was no place to go.

  He stalked past her and stopped before the wall panel to the right of the fireplace. Jocelyn quickly surveyed the room in hopes of finding something to use as a weapon against him, but the room was too minimally furnished to provide anything of use.

  Borloff studied the molding carved with vines and flowers but directed his comments to her. “Word has reached me that your husband has uncovered my involvement in Valentina’s schemes, and I suspect he will not hesitate to inform Prince Alexei the moment he arrives. Therefore it is in my best interest to follow in the princess’s footsteps.” He turned a carved blossom and the panel swung open into a dimly lit corridor. “This leads to a tunnel beneath the palace and ends in a secret exit in the forest. Only the royal family and a few trusted advisers know of its existence.” He turned toward her. “I placed a torch in here before I realized I would never be able to escape without a guarantee of safe passage. You.”

  “How convenient for you.” She stared at him, and abruptly anger overwhelmed her fear. “What kind of a man are you? Alexei is your prince and, I suspect, your friend. He trusts you and yet you betray him. How could you?”

  “The usual reasons, Princess. Money. Power. Desire for the wrong woman.” His expression hardened. “They are powerful inducements, yet not nearly as strong as my desire at the moment for my life and my freedom. Now.” He nodded toward the passageway. “After you.”

  “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stay right here and scream my head off until someone finds me.”

  “Oh dear, I must have failed to mention a rather pertinent detail.” He smacked his palm against his forehead. “What was I thinking? You will accompany me, and you will do so at once”—he pulled a nasty-looking pistol from his waistcoat—“because if you don’t I shall be forced to kill you.”

  “That would be pointless.” She raised her chin in defiance. “If you kill me, what happens to your safe passage?”

  “Precisely why I would prefer not to. However”— his eyes narrowed—“you have been a great irritant to me, and the pleasure I would derive from your death would provide a certain measure of satisfaction.”

  She had no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot. There was no choice. “My husband will come after me.”

  “I don’t think so. I have taken steps to ensure he and Prince Alexei know why I am taking you with me and what will happen to you should I become aware of pursuit.”

  Her stomach clenched. Borloff had planned his escape well.

  “Nonetheless,” she said staunchly, “he will follow.”

  “Perhaps.” His voice was thoughtful. “Although your disappearance might be ultimately convenient.”

  “Convenient?”

  “Indeed. If even half of that drivel you told me is true, and I really didn’t believe a word of it, have you stopped to consider what might happen should your husband decide to take his rightful place as a prince of Avalonia?”

  “What do you mean?” An entirely new kind of fear touched her.

  “Princes have an obligation when it comes to marriage. They marry for political alliances, for the security of their country. You are quite lovely, and I daresay any man would be happy to have you in his bed, but you are not a suitable wife for a prince. Should he choose to accept his heritage, you would be rather... inconvenient.”

/>   “He loves me,” she said without thinking.

  “Love is relative.” He shook his head bitterly. “As I well know.” He gestured with the pistol. “Now then, if you please.”

  She walked slowly toward the passageway, trying to think of something, anything to keep her here. She racked her brains but her skills were limited to flirtatious banter and the fluttering of fans and other talents well-bred young ladies practiced. What did a well-bred young lady do when her life was threatened by a madman? Most probably couldn’t take so much as a single step. Most would be hysterical and no doubt swoon at the very sight of a pistol.

  And if nothing else, Jocelyn Shelton was well bred.

  She raised her hand to her throat, widening her eyes and staring at Borloff. “I...” Her step faltered. “I feel so... so...”

  “What?” His brows drew together in annoyance.

  “I don’t know...” She gasped and closed her eyes and prayed he’d believe her, then crumpled to the floor in her best imitation of a dead faint and tried not to wince when she hit the marble surface. If that thud didn’t convince him, nothing would.

  “Princess,” he snapped.

  She’d managed to fall on her side, with her arm half covering her face, shielding her eyes.

  “Get up or I will shoot you where you lie.” Borloff’s voice rang hard and cold in the room.

  She willed herself not to move a muscle. Her heart thudded in her ears. If he did shoot, she prayed death would be swift, and not too painful. With luck he’d simply leave without her.

  Instead she heard his footsteps approach.

  She opened her eyes the barest slit, just enough to see his black boots pause beside her. He nudged her with his foot.

  “I will shoot,” he warned and nudged her again, hard. She bit her lip to restrain any response.

  She braced herself for the inevitable and waited for an endless moment. At last Borloff heaved a sigh and swore under his breath.

  “Get up,” he ordered, punctuating his words with more of a kick than a nudge and she couldn’t hold back a groan. She had to do something. Anything. If she was going to die, she’d rather meet her end with the courage befitting, well, a true princess. Without a second thought, she grabbed his ankle and pulled with all her might.

  It seemed as if she were in a dream, as if time itself slowed and a heartbeat lasted forever. She looked up at Borloff’s startled face. He fell backward, his arms flailing, the pistol flying free to skid across the floor and into the passageway. He hit the floor with a solid thump followed by a crack when his head smacked onto the marble tile.

  She scrambled to her feet and stared down at him in horror. For a moment hoping she hadn’t killed him. For a moment hoping she had.

  Unrelenting panic gripped her. She had to get out of here. Now. There were only two ways of escape and she wasn’t going into that dark, forbidding tunnel. The key to the door was in Borloff’s waistcoat pocket.

  She drew a deep breath, bent over him, and quickly slid her hand into the pocket. She found the key and pulled it out.

  His hand gripped her wrist.

  Her heart stopped. Borloff’s eyes opened and trapped hers. “I think not, Princess.”

  “Let me go!” Terror flooded through her. She struggled against an iron grip. He reached for her with his free hand. And she did what any well-bred young lady would do.

  She sank her teeth into his hand.

  He screamed and she wrenched away, scrambling across the room and into the passageway. She stumbled through the opening and spied a lever beside the door. She grabbed it and pulled with everything she had. Across the room Borloff got to his feet and started after her. The door swung closed and his muffled cry of outrage sounded from the other side. A large bolt was affixed to the wall and she put her full weight behind it and shoved, sliding it into place.

  Jocelyn rested her forehead against the door and tried to catch her breath. She’d never, even in her darkest nightmares, been so scared. Pounding sounded from the other side and she jumped back. She could hear Borloff’s outrage, barely audible behind the thick wall. At least she was safe for the moment. And Borloff was trapped. She still had the key.

  She brushed her hair out of her eyes and realized she’d lost her glasses sometime during the struggle. Not that it mattered. There was no light beyond the circle of brightness cast by the wall torch.

  She spotted the pistol and carefully picked it up. It was probably loaded, and she knew nothing about guns. She gingerly gripped it and pointed it away from her. She’d hate to accidentally shoot herself. Pity, Rand had chosen to teach her archery instead of shooting. Now that was a skill that could come in handy.

  Had Rand arrived at the palace? Was he even now searching for her? Worrying about her? And would he find her in time? Before... She brushed away farfetched thoughts of what could happen to her. The danger was still all too real. It was entirely possible Borloff knew of another entry from the room she’d locked him in and could come after her. And who knew how long it would take Rand, or anyone else, to look in this part of the palace.

  Without warning the door shook. Fear again caught at her but the bolt held. She snatched the torch from its holder and hurried down the dark, cavelike walkway, resisting the urge to run and give in to the panic that still simmered beneath raw nerves. She had a torch, she had a pistol, and she would find her way out. She would not give up.

  And she brushed aside the nagging thought that she could be every bit as trapped as Borloff.

  ———

  Rand didn’t like any of this at all.

  Not the armed contingent that greeted them at the border claiming to be an escort provided for their “safety.” Not the long, impressive palace gallery he stalked through now, flanked by Thomas on one side and Richard on the other. Not the heavy weight that had taken up permanent residence in the pit of his stomach nearly three weeks ago, a weight prompted by fear, worry, and a frustrating helplessness.

  If he’d decided nothing else on their long journey, he’d decided he would do whatever he had to do to get Jocelyn back. Whatever Alexei wanted of him, he would do. Whatever Jocelyn wanted, she could have. Nothing was too much to ask.

  She was in his thoughts every hour, every moment. He was certain she was safe, confident Alexei wouldn’t harm her, and confident as well that she hadn’t left him of her own free will.

  He trusted her. He loved her. And if, in those last moments before sleep claimed him at some flea-ridden inn or, more often than not, on the hard ground, a tiny doubt nagged at him that perhaps he was wrong, he ignored it.

  Footmen in powdered wigs and formal livery flanked the ornate doors at the end of the corridor, opening them as they approached with timing so perfect, Rand and the others didn’t break stride. He stalked into what appeared to be a grand receiving chamber. A large gathering of ladies and gentlemen, members of Alexei’s court, no doubt, parted before them, leaving a clear path to the end of room. A quick glance confirmed Jocelyn was not among the group.

  Alexei stood beside an ornate, gilded table speaking with a handful of men. He paused at Rand’s approach and turned toward him with a steady, assessing gaze.

  “Welcome, cousin,” Alexei said mildly.

  “Where is she?” Rand’s voice was curt.

  Alexei’s manner was cool, regal. “I do hope your journey was not unpleasant?”

  “It was delightful. Thank you for providing me with the opportunity to travel.” Rand’s eyes narrowed. “Now where is my wife?”

  “She should be here momentarily.” Alexei’s gaze locked with Rand’s. “We have a great deal to talk about, cousin.”

  “Indeed we do. But first—”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” Alexei waved away his comment. “And frankly I do not wish to begin our discussion without her. She has become an integral part of all this.”

  “Has she?” Rand narrowed his eyes and pushed aside thoughts of exactly what Alexei meant.

  “Do not glare at me like
that, cousin.” Alexei huffed a short sigh. “She has come to no harm. Neither has she betrayed you in any way. And while she did not accompany me of her own accord”—an unexpected sense of relief rushed through Rand—“she well understands my reasons for luring you here.”

  “Does she?” Rand said slowly.

  “She does indeed.” Alexei shook his head. “I will confess I am not in the habit of confiding in women, nor, overall, do I especially trust them. Particularly clever women. However, I have found in your wife both a courageous spirit and a perceptive wisdom.”

  “Jocelyn?” Thomas said under his breath to Richard.

  Richard shrugged.

  “You are a lucky man, cousin.” Alexei’s gaze was unyielding. “And I envy you. And should you decide, for whatever reason, your marriage is not to your liking, there will always be a place for your wife here as my cousin and my friend should she so choose.”

  Rand clenched his fists by his side, his tone as firm as the prince’s. “My wife’s place is with me. Always.”

  “Excellent.” Alexei smiled with satisfaction. “Now where is the blasted woman?” He glanced around the room. “She’s been counting the minutes until your arrival. I must say, we did expect you before now. Odd that she isn’t here yet.”

  “Your Highness.” A short, attractive lady approached and curtsied. “The princess met Count Borloff in the hall and went with him, I believe toward the older section of the palace. I was but a few steps behind her and I heard him say he’d been sent by you to escort her to a place where she could greet her husband”—the lady cast a shy smile at Rand—“in private.”

  Alexei frowned and shook his head. “I did nothing of the sort.”

  “Did you say Borloff?” Rand turned to the woman. She nodded. His stomach twisted and he looked at Alexei. “Borloff is your traitor. The man he was working with in London, Strizich, was caught and told us everything. That’s what delayed my arrival. I was informed of his capture the morning we planned to leave and felt it imperative to talk to him myself.”