Arranged Marriage, Bedroom Secrets

by Yvonne Lindsay

  She had failed in her attempt to secure her happiness. Worse, she’d failed in her attempt to see to the security of her family, her people, her country. Even now, she didn’t want to give up. Couldn’t bring herself to accept that Thierry would never forgive her. Maybe it was too soon, perhaps she should have given him more time before making her approach. But time was a luxury they didn’t have, not with the news Rocco had shared with her.

  And even as she climbed back on board the helicopter and attempted to rationalize her thoughts, she knew that her mission would have failed, no matter what she’d said or how long she’d waited. Thierry was a guarded man. One who had shielded his love and emotions behind his duty and determination to live honorably. She had dishonored him, and herself, with her actions, and that was something he could not forgive.

  Now she had to face her brother, the leader of her people, and tell him she had failed both him and them.

  * * *

  Flying in the dark was preferable to flying by daylight, Mila reasoned. At least this way you couldn’t see how high you were or, conversely, how close to the ground that you were covering at unnatural speed. Even so, it seemed to her that they were descending far sooner than she’d expected. She looked across to the general who was again seated beside her.

  “It feels like we are coming into land. Surely we’re not in Erminia yet. Is there something wrong?”

  “Perhaps it is a mechanical issue with the chopper,” the general replied, looking unconcerned.

  Mila looked out the window. Yes, they were very definitely being brought down to land, but where were they? In the dark it was impossible to make out any landmarks of distinction. The second they were down the pilot exited the chopper, and the general was quick to follow. Mila remained in her seat, wondering what on earth was going on. Through her window she watched as the two men began to talk.

  Then, to her horror, she saw the pilot pull out a handgun and point it at the general.

  A loud report followed and Mila screamed as the general fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. The pilot came to her door and yanked it open. “Come with me now,” he demanded, waving the pistol toward her.

  Horrified, she did as he told her. “What are you doing? Why—?”

  “Silence!” the man shouted and grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, shoving her ahead of him. “Walk!”

  Mila staggered but was pulled upright by the pilot.

  “Don’t try anything stupid, Your Royal Highness.” He sneered as he used her title, as if it was an insult. “I will not hesitate to give you the same treatment I gave the general.”

  A large, black, all-terrain vehicle roared up out of the darkness and a group of men piled out before it was fully stationary. They all carried guns. She’d been frightened before, but now she was absolutely terrified. What on earth was going to happen to her?

  Sixteen

  “What do you mean the princess never returned to Erminia? We saw her helicopter take off with our own eyes.”

  Pasquale’s features reflected his concern. “I know, sire, but it seems her transport was diverted before she reached the palace, and the princess was abducted. No one knows where she is.”

  “And the pilot and her escort? Where are they?”

  “Her escort was the king’s own general. He was shot but managed to escape, apparently. The report I received from inside the Erminian palace said he regained consciousness to find the princess gone and the helicopter abandoned. He flew it back to the palace himself.”

  Thierry shoved a hand through his hair and began to pace. This was his fault. He’d sent her away. If he’d only been more willing to listen, to give her that second chance she’d begged for—the chance they both deserved—then this would never have happened.

  “What is Rocco doing?” he demanded.

  “The king has dispatched troops to search for the princess. The general was vague about his whereabouts when he came to and it appears that the tracking on the helicopter had been disabled when it left here. He was battling to remain conscious during the flight, apparently, and has little recollection of the journey.”

  “And yet he made it to the palace?”

  “It would appear so, sire.”

  Thierry sat back down at his desk and stared at the papers upon it as if they could shed some light on where the missing princess could be found. Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “The general’s injury, what was it?”

  “A bullet wound, sire,” Pasquale informed him. “He was shot at close range. He lost a considerable amount of blood and required transfusions and surgery to remove the bullet.”

  So the general couldn’t have been party to the kidnapping, Thierry rationalized. No doubt Mila’s brother would ensure the man was thoroughly questioned about the incident, but in the meantime Thierry wished there was something he could do. He’d been so full of fury since returning from the lodge he’d barely been able to see straight, let alone think or react rationally.

  When Mila had requested an audience with him he’d agreed, but he hadn’t been prepared to listen. He was so consumed with his anger all he’d wanted to do was make it clear to her that they stood no chance together. And yet, now, all he wanted to do was ensure her safety. The very idea that she was in danger sent an icy shaft of fear through him. But he couldn’t show fear—he daren’t. His focus now had to be on finding her, whatever it took.

  Yes, that was what he needed to do. Find her, hold her and tell her he’d been a colossal fool to let her go. If he ever had the opportunity again he’d pull her in his arms and tell her he forgave her and he’d never let her go again. Certainly, he had been beyond angry when she’d revealed her identity. No man liked being taken for a fool. But he couldn’t help but be moved by the way she had fought for their love. And when he considered the idea of his life without Mila in it, it stretched ahead of him like a barren desert.

  He’d let his fury buoy him along these past days. Let it feed his outrage and disappointment in what she’d done. But how bad had it been, really? He’d opened his heart to her, shared his deepest fears and secrets with her—believing her to be a courtesan, rather than the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with. How stupid could he have been? Those were the things he should have shared only with his wife, rather than a stranger.

  What if Ms. Romolo really had come to the lodge—would he have come to regret sharing intimacies with her that should only be given to his princess? Instead, through Mila’s machinations, he’d been sharing his thoughts and feelings with the right woman all along. He’d fallen in love with that woman. Shared the most intimate act of love with that woman.

  And he’d reacted to her confession with an icy rage that far outweighed what she’d done. He’d been a fool. He didn’t deserve her love. What she’d done, she’d done for them. For love. And he’d thrown that love away. He had to get her back.

  “I must find her, Pasquale. Bring the tactical leader of our special forces team to me immediately.”

  A look of paternal approval wreathed Pasquale’s face. “Certainly, sire. In fact, I believe the captain is already on his way here to your office.”

  Thierry looked at Pasquale in surprise. “Already?”

  “I thought it best, sire, given how you feel about the princess.”

  “How is it that you know me better than I appear to know myself?”

  The question went without answer when a sharp rap at the office door announced the arrival of the man Thierry needed most right now. As his aide let the captain in and made to leave, Thierry called out.

  “Pasquale?”

  “Yes, sire?”

  “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

  “Tell me thank you when you have her back, sire. Then we can all be grateful.”

/>   * * *

  She’d been here five days already and the incarceration was driving her crazy. The room into which she’d been shown was austere and had the bare minimum of furnishings—just a bed and a straight-back wooden chair. The bed had nothing more than a mattress and a scratchy woolen blanket. She decided she should be grateful for small mercies. At least the rickety bed frame kept her off the cold stone floor.

  From the familiar carved stone heraldic arms above the slit in the wall which served as a window, she realized that she was being held in an old abandoned fortress somewhere, probably inside the Erminian border. The border was peppered with these crumbling buildings that harked back to older, more dangerous and volatile times. Most of the structures were in a state of complete and utter disrepair. But judging by the hinges and locks on her door this one had been at least partially refurbished.

  The irony of being kidnapped not long after she had done the very same to Ottavia Romolo was not lost on her, but at least she’d ensured the woman could enjoy some comfort, even luxury. This cell—it could be called nothing more than that—didn’t even boast running water. It had galled her to be forced to use a chamber pot for a toilet and to have to hand it to a taciturn mercenary on guard outside her room when she was done. Once, she’d been tempted to simply throw it at the man and run for it when he opened the door, but where would she run? And who to? She had no idea where she was and her guards were no doubt well trained in how to use the guns they carried. She was certain they wouldn’t hesitate to use them if it was necessary. No, she had to trust that Rocco would send his men to find her. And soon.

  She’d had the briefest of audiences with one of her captors when she’d first been put in this room. He’d explained her purpose for being here, which had shocked her. He was a member of the movement that was determined to increase tensions between Erminia and Sylvain. Apparently the threat of potential war was big business and there were several players involved in this action—including the nameless and faceless pretender to Rocco’s throne who had added his own demands. Mila was to be held until Rocco abdicated the throne voluntarily in favor of the illegitimate older brother. If Rocco refused, her captors would have no further use for her, which made it clear that her life was very much in danger.

  She didn’t want her brother to abdicate. Despite their differences she knew he was a good leader and a great man. It gave her no end of worry to know that she was now the cause of further unnecessary stress and trouble to her brother when he already had enough to deal with. And she didn’t want to die, either.

  Mila tried to distract herself by walking the perimeter of her room again, but she could already recite the number of blocks on each wall without even looking now and, besides, she felt as though she needed to conserve her depleting energy. It seemed that while a small portion of water was provided to her each day, her captors didn’t think food was as important. The last time she’d eaten had been three days ago. Just thinking about the miserable serving of cold stew she’d been given made her stomach cramp on itself, but she tried to ignore the discomfort as she paused in front of the narrow opening to the world outside.

  It was night and the cold dank air blowing through carried on it the promise of a coming storm. She hoped the thickness of the fortress walls would prevent any rain from entering her cell. It was bad enough to be tired and cold and hungry, but add wet to the equation and she had no doubt things would become infinitely worse.

  Her thoughts turned to Thierry, to their last meeting together. She didn’t want to die before seeing him again. She shook her head. She didn’t want to die, period. Mila returned to the narrow bed and curled up beneath the thin blanket.

  If she just closed her eyes she could turn her thoughts back to the idyllic week she’d shared with Thierry. To the long rides they’d taken most mornings, to the first time they’d properly kissed, to the night they’d made love before everything had imploded and she’d been sent home in disgrace.

  Mila felt herself begin to drift off to sleep, her thoughts still firmly latched onto the man who held her heart in his hands whether he wanted it or not.

  She was yanked from her dreams by the swoosh of her door being opened, followed by the murmur of a male voice.

  “She’s here.”

  “Mila! Are you all right? Wake up, my Angel,” a familiar voice whispered fiercely in her ear.

  Hawk? It couldn’t be, she told herself as she shrank back under the covers. She had to be dreaming. Or maybe the days of little to eat and miserly rations of water had driven her over the edge into madness.

  “Mila! Wake up!”

  There it was again. That voice, this time accompanied by a strong hand on her shoulder giving her a solid shake. She opened her eyes. In the gloom it was almost impossible to see who it was. She could only make out the looming shape of a man, all in black, with his head and face covered by a dark balaclava. She drew in a breath to scream. Was this it? Was she going to be killed now?

  The man put one hand over her mouth, muffling the cry that threatened to fill the air, and tore the mask from his head. Thierry! It was Thierry, he was here. He couldn’t be real. She blinked her eyes as if doing so would clear her vision.

  “Are you hurt?” the apparition demanded softly.

  She shook her head and he took his hand from over her mouth before bending closer to take her lips in a kiss. If she’d doubted it was him before, the touch and taste of his lips on hers removed any lingering remnants of disbelief. His kiss was short and fierce, but exactly what she needed.

  “Can you walk?” he asked in an undertone.

  She nodded, wide awake now and fully aware of the need for silence.

  “That’s my girl.” He smiled approvingly. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here. Are you wearing shoes?”

  “They took them off me.”

  He cursed softly and left her for a moment to speak to one of the men hovering in the doorway. One of them unslung a pack from his shoulders and pulled out several thick wads of dressing and rolls of bandages.

  “These aren’t ideal, but they’ll protect your feet for a while,” the man said as he bent to position the dressing on the soles of her feet before swiftly winding the bandages around her feet and ankles.

  What happened next passed in a blur. All she was aware of was being flanked by a team of men carrying automatic weapons and wearing dark clothing, and the strength of Thierry’s arm around her waist as he silently hauled her along the passageway and finally, thankfully, outside.

  The whole operation, from the fortress to the surrounding forest, couldn’t have taken more than five minutes, and Mila was shaking with both fear and relief by the time they stopped running once they were deep in the forest. She couldn’t understand it. No one had tried to stop them at any stage. There’d been no gunfire, no explosions. It had been nothing like what she’d seen in the movies that Sally had so loved watching back in America. Everything had been accomplished under a veil of stealth that had lent an even more surreal atmosphere to everything.

  “Here,” Thierry said, sliding out of the jacket he wore and helping her to put it on. “You’re frozen.”

  “What now?” she asked through chattering teeth.

  “Now I’m taking you home.”

  The call of a nocturnal bird bounced off the trees around them.

  “That’s our signal. Our transport is waiting a kilometer away. Can you make it just that bit further?” Thierry asked.

  “Will you be with me?”

  “Always.”

  “Then I can do anything,” she said simply.

  He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but one of the other men gestured to him that they needed to keep moving.

  “We need to talk, but it will have to wait. First we get you to safety,” he said grimly before wrapping his arm around her again.

>   It seemed to take forever, but eventually they broke out of the woods and piled into a pair of large armored vehicles. She was beyond exhausted, incapable of speech as Thierry lifted her into a seat.

  “Radio ahead to the palace. Make sure a medical team is on standby and inform King Rocco we have her and we’re bringing her home,” Thierry informed the man standing nearest to him.

  “N-no,” Mila tried to protest.

  She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to be with Thierry. But, as Thierry climbed into the vehicle and pulled her onto his lap, the darkness fluttering around the periphery of her vision consumed her.

  Seventeen

  Thierry watched Mila as she slept in the castle infirmary. The grime of captivity still clung to her, but according to the doctor that had checked her over she was in good health considering what she’d been through. His eyes traced the tilt of her nose, the outline of her lips, the stubbornness of her jaw, and he felt his heart break a little as he realized he had almost sent her to her death. If he’d only been willing to forgive, none of this would have happened.

  There was one thing that he knew without any doubt. He loved Princess Mila Angelina of Erminia with every breath in his body. He didn’t want to face another minute, let alone another day, without knowing she’d be in his future.

  “She’s still sleeping?” Rocco’s voice interrupted him.

  “As you can see,” Thierry answered, not taking his eyes off her for a minute.

  “But she will be all right?”

  “Yes.”

  Rocco settled on a chair on the other side of Mila’s bed. “I can’t begin to thank you—”

  “Then don’t. I did what was necessary. What you would have done yourself if you had reached her first.” There had been several teams searching possible locations. It was just Rocco’s bad luck that he hadn’t been on the team that had been sent to the correct spot.