The Impoverished Princess

by Robyn Donald

  ‘No,’ he said in flexibly.

  Only one word, but it was delivered in a voice that delivered absolute conviction.

  Trying to convince herself now as much as him, she said, ‘Doran and his friends aren’t stupid—why would they think they have any chance of taking over Montevel? They don’t have any money—exiled aristocrats don’t do terribly well once they have to earn their living, it seems. And none of them have any tactical or military knowledge, or contacts in Montevel or…or anything.’ She firmed her voice and said more strongly, ‘If that call was from Gerd, he’s overreacting. He must be.’

  Lethally, Alex said, ‘He’s not. Your brother and his merry little band of romantic idiots plan to use Carathia’s Adriatic coast as a safe haven and jumping-off point. As for money and military knowledge—they have a backer who is providing both.’

  Fear forcing adrenalin through her, Serina scrambled out of bed. She glanced down, realised she was naked and yanked the sheet from the bed, winding it around herself. Alex’s gaze didn’t waver and she realised that, whatever was going on, he believed Gerd’s version—if it was Gerd who’d contacted him. She dragged in a breath and tried to persuade her whirling brain to reason logically.

  It was too far-fetched—it had to be.

  She risked another glance at Alex’s stony face and into the turmoil of her fears about her brother there in filtrated a sad little thought that he’d probably invited her out here—perhaps even seduced her—hoping she’d…

  Stop it, she told herself. Doran was too important to let her own barely-born, unacknowledged hopes and longings get in the way of his welfare.

  Alex was a formidable magnate, used to the ruthless cut and thrust of the business world, and Gerd was another powerful, intelligent man, a ruler who’d fought and won a civil war in the mountains of Carathia.

  Neither they—nor their security organisations—were likely to suffer delusions. They must really believe that Doran planned to use Carathia as a base for some forlorn hope concerning Montevel. And, if that was so, then her brother had deliberately and systematically lied to her. Worse—much worse—than that; he was in terrible danger.

  The cold pool beneath her ribs expanded right through her. Numbly, she said, ‘Alex, are you sure?’

  Relentless eyes rebuffed her pleading gaze. ‘Completely sure.’

  She didn’t need the assurance; her own words had already told her that she accepted what he’d said.

  She could feel the colour drain from her face. ‘I have to go,’ she said starkly. ‘See if I can talk sense into them.’

  ‘You can’t.’ Alex’s statement sounded unmistakably like a man in charge.

  Shivering, she pulled the sheet tighter around her and walked out of the bedroom, coming to a stop by the wall of glass that looked out onto the cove. Although she concentrated fiercely on the view, she could see nothing but blurred colours and shapes.

  ‘So how much do you know about this supposed game?’ Alex asked her from behind, his question hammering at her. ‘Has he discussed any of the manoeuvres, the twists and turns, the basic plot lines?’

  ‘No.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Apart from the vampires,’ she added, her voice cracking on the final word. Doran’s little joke, obviously. She blinked hard and asked, ‘Who is backing them—and why?’

  ‘The less you know, the better.’

  Angry, Serina turned to meet his eyes—implacable, so arctic she felt as though they pierced through to her innermost being. There would be no negotiation. She’d been kept in ignorance by him too.

  ‘I don’t know anything.’ She added bitterly, ‘And, as his sister, I don’t have enough influence with Doran to persuade him to stop.’

  ‘I didn’t imagine you would,’ he agreed. ‘I wasn’t going to suggest it.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  He said briefly, ‘I don’t have any official standing at all, so Gerd will deal with it.’

  Her lips trembled. ‘And he’s on his honeymoon. Poor Rosie.’

  The knot of panic in her stomach stopped any further words. If anyone could extricate Doran from this, she’d trust Gerd to do it.

  But after a moment she said, ‘I—I’m just finding it impossible to accept that they thought there was any chance they’d be able to start a revolution. It’s—just so crazy.’

  ‘They were fed a line,’ Alex said curtly. ‘By someone unscrupulous enough to use their youth and their innocence against them. Any sort of revolution is damned difficult to get off the ground and, although the current regime there isn’t exactly a benign one, it’s a lot better than the dictator who booted your grandparents out. And in finitely better than the civil war they endured to get rid of him. Most of the citizens seem happy enough with their present situation.’

  He waited and when she said nothing he added harshly, ‘If Doran and his cohorts go ahead with this hare-brained plot, people will die.’

  Serina clutched at the sheet, huddling into it to stop herself shivering. ‘I’ve been trying to reject the whole idea because I don’t want to believe it.’ She met his formidable blue gaze squarely, knowing she wasn’t going to get the reassurance she craved. ‘You’re sure—utterly and completely sure—that this is not just some student prank that will evaporate into thin air as soon as the practicalities become too much for them to cope with?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ he said levelly and not without sympathy. ‘As far as I can gather, they’re hyped on a mixture of romantic Ruritanian fantasy and a cast-iron conviction that the people of Montevel will welcome them with open arms.’

  ‘Why should they believe that?’ she asked despairingly, not expecting an answer.

  Cuttingly, Alex said, ‘Because they want to, and because they’ve been told that by someone they trust.’

  ‘Does this—someone—have anything to do with the organisation that tried to take over the carathite mines in Carathia a while ago?’

  Anxiously, she waited for his answer. A rare and valuable mineral found on the border of Carathia and Montevel, carathite was used in electronics. The crown of Carathia owned the mines and Gerd had been forced to battle his own civil war, one fomented by an unscrupulous firm with its eyes on the mines.

  ‘No. That firm no longer exists, and the men who started that uprising are either dead or in jail. Between us, Gerd and Kelt and I made sure they got their just deserts.’

  His ruthless tone lifted the hairs on the back of Serina’s neck. Before she could ask another question, he went on, ‘I’ll tell you this much—if they’re who we think they might be, the instigators aren’t in the least interested in Gerd or any possibility of carathite being found in Montevel.’ He paused, giving weight to his next words. ‘They’re possibly using your brother’s rebellion as a diversion.’

  Horrified, she stared at him. Although her lips formed the word Why?, no sound emerged.

  Alex read her correctly. ‘Right now, the reason doesn’t matter. I just wanted to make sure you knew how serious this is.’

  ‘You’re trying to frighten me,’ she said numbly.

  He didn’t soften. ‘I hope I’m succeeding.’

  ‘Oh, you are,’ she said bleakly. ‘What…do you know what Doran is planning to do?’

  ‘I suspect the plan is to sail to Montevel in a hired yacht and slip ashore once they’ve made landfall.’

  She swallowed. ‘I see.’ She shivered again, but said fiercely, ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘No.’

  She said curtly, ‘Alex, I can’t stay here without trying to do something.’

  ‘You can,’ he said with calm authority. ‘Because there is nothing you can do, and you’re safe here.’

  ‘I might be able to convince Doran—’

  ‘You said yourself you have no influence on him,’ he reminded her implacably. ‘How are you going to get back?’

  ‘I’ll fly, of course—’ She stopped abruptly because she didn’t have the money to get her halfway round the world.

>   One glance at his saturnine face told her she wasn’t going to persuade him to provide her with the jet he shared with his cousins.

  Never mind; her credit card would get her there, and somehow she’d pay it off.

  ‘Alex, he’s my brother. I have to do what I can.’

  Alex could see that the words were wrung from her. She knew how unlikely it was that she’d be able to do anything to stop this mad scheme of Doran’s, but she wanted to be as close to her brother as she could be.

  He didn’t blame her. What she didn’t know was that if Doran was killed, she could well be next on the list. She was the last member of the royal family there, and while alive she would be a constant focus for any dissatisfaction.

  But, even if he told her that, he suspected she’d go anyway.

  So he said bluntly, ‘It’s not a good idea.’

  She met his eyes with a level, determined look that warned him she refused to be intimidated. ‘Perhaps not, but I’m going just the same. I’ll ring the airline.’

  ‘Princess, you’re not going anywhere.’

  Mouth drying, she stared at him, her heart thumping with heavy emphasis. ‘You can’t stop me,’ she challenged starkly. ‘You might be lord of all you survey here, but you have no power over me.’

  ‘I can prevent you from leaving New Zealand,’ he said coolly, ‘and I plan to do just that.’

  ‘How? I hope you don’t think that your prowess in bed is enough to dazzle me into submission?’

  He showed his teeth in a smile that pulled every tiny hair on her body upright. ‘That has nothing to do with this.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to be a jailer,’ she flung at him furiously.

  ‘Serina, you’re not going anywhere near this mess. You’ll stay out of danger if I have to chain you to the bed to keep you here.’

  The ruthless note in his voice made her shiver. She stared mutely at him, wrenched by anger and terror for her brother. She wanted nothing more than to have Alex take her in his arms and tell her that everything would be all right, that Doran was safe and that the whole thing had been an elaborate hoax, a joke…

  In a slightly more gentle voice, Alex said, ‘I suggest you get dressed and see if Doran has left any message for you.’

  Serina started. ‘Oh—yes. I’ll do it right now. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll put some clothes on,’ she said evenly.

  He paused, his gaze speculative, then nodded. Stomach churning, Serina dashed into the bedroom and hauled her laptop from its case. While it fired up, she pulled on her wrap and pushed her tangled hair back from her face, urging the computer to hurry up, still gripped by a cold, sick panic.

  Doran had sent her two lines.

  Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine. I’ll see you soon.

  Hastily, she fired off a message in return. Don’t do anything, she wrote, fingers shaking so much she had to stop and clench her hands for a moment before she could tell him their plans had been discovered.

  She jumped, quivering with shock when a hand reached over her and deleted her words. Unable to bear the fear scything through her, she froze as Alex closed down her computer.

  ‘I can’t let you send it,’ he said tersely. ‘The only safety he has is that we have some idea of what’s going to happen. If they realise they’ve been rumbled, God knows what they might do.’

  She asked dully, ‘How do you know their plans?’

  ‘They set the whole scheme up like a video game,’ he told her. ‘My men have managed to hack into one computer.’

  Hope whispered through her. ‘Then how do you know it’s not just a game?’

  ‘One of my men infiltrated the group. Stop grasping at straws, Serina. It’s not a game. It’s deadly serious.’

  Stumbling, she got to her feet and Alex turned her into his arms and held her, enveloping her in the heat of his body.

  She said fiercely, ‘I could kill him, the idiot.’ Then caught her breath, horrified by the tumbling words.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Alex said quietly.

  But she shook her head. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He’s still in flight.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘He’s landing in Rome,’ he told her.

  Stiffly, aching as though she’d been beaten, she pulled away from the unexpected comfort of his arms. ‘I need a shower.’

  ‘I’ll make breakfast.’ And, when she opened her mouth to say she couldn’t swallow anything, he said bluntly, ‘Starving yourself is not going to help either Doran or you.’

  Serina gathered her clothes and walked into the bathroom. She was already under the water when she thought savagely that he clearly didn’t expect her to climb out of a window and flee.

  No doubt because he knew very well she had no way of working out how to travel cross-country back to the home stead. And, as she had no idea where he kept the keys to the Land Rover, she couldn’t steal that and drive out.

  But she had to get back…

  Her passport and credit card were in her bag.

  Leaving the shower on, she scrambled out, grabbing a towel to blot off some water as she headed towards the door.

  Scrabbling in her bag revealed that neither passport nor credit card were there any longer. Her terror gave way to outrage when she realised Alex had also taken her cell phone. Furious, she stormed through to the kitchen and confronted him.

  ‘Give them back to me!’ she commanded. ‘Right now, or I’ll—I’ll…’

  With in tensely infuriating control, he said, ‘You’ll get everything back when you leave New Zealand.’

  Serina stared at him, her anger almost boiling over, and realised he hadn’t responded in any way to her semi-nakedness.

  With stark pain, she accepted that he’d got her here, lured her into his arms, into his bed, made love to her with heart-stopping passion, brought her to the bach—all to coax what information he could from her.

  She’d never felt so helpless, so utterly without resources. So completely at someone else’s mercy. So blazingly angry.

  So wrenchingly unhappy…

  It took every last ounce of fortitude she possessed to say grittily, ‘I despise you.’

  Without waiting for any answer, she turned and stumbled blindly back into the bathroom. Frustration and grief churning through her, she lifted her face to the shower head, trying to wash away her fear for her brother, her anger with Alex and a frozen, bitter anguish because he’d used her.

  A knock on the door made her start and turn off the water.

  Through the door, Alex asked, ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she called, a little warmed by his thoughtfulness. Surely…surely it hadn’t just been a cold-blooded seduction?

  She stepped out of the shower, slicking her wet hair back from her face and started to dry herself. Face facts, Serina, she thought starkly.

  Alex and Gerd must have decided to get her and Doran out of the way in the hope that this would stop the group from going ahead with their plans. Which meant that, however thoughtful he was, however great a lover, Alex’s seduction had been a deliberate ploy, a subterfuge to keep her out of the way while he and Gerd tried to find out what Doran’s group were plotting.

  Shattered by just how much that thought hurt, she hastily got into her clothes and combed her hair straight back from her face, lecturing herself all the time.

  Love was transient; she knew that. People had their hearts broken on a regular basis; they wept, they suffered, they told the tabloids all about it and then, six months later, they were happily in love with someone else.

  She’d get over it.

  Another tap on the bathroom door had her whirling around. No, she thought in panic, she wasn’t ready…

  Uncannily echoing her thoughts, Alex said, ‘Breakfast’s ready.’

  She hadn’t blow-dried her hair or applied any cosmetics. She stared at her reflection, then gave a quick shrug. It no longer mattered. If he couldn’t cope with the real Serina she didn’t care.<
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  But deep down—so deep she could almost bury it—lurked a painful understanding that Alex was the only man she would ever love like this, the only one able to hold her heart in his keeping.

  Even though he didn’t want it.

  Five minutes later, a bleak smile curved her mouth when she realised he had scrambled eggs for them both, grilled tomatoes and made toast.

  He examined her face. ‘You look pale,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘It’s not every day I’m told I’m a prisoner. I dare say I’ll get used to it.’

  He gave her a hard, sardonic smile. ‘You manage to look ravishing in spite of it,’ he told her, bringing a wash of colour to her skin as he surveyed her. ‘And coffee will probably give you some colour.’

  He set a plate in front of her and, in spite of her anger and her fear for Doran, her stomach growled. ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly and picked up her utensils.

  The food put new heart into her; although she couldn’t eat everything he’d piled on the plate, she made good inroads into it. Pride kept her shoulders straight, her eyes level, her voice cool and uninflected.

  And coffee helped. After pouring herself a large mug, she said, ‘What do you think Doran will do once he reaches Rome?’

  ‘I suspect he’ll be picked up by someone from the conspiracy and taken by boat to a safe place inside Carathia—a port town. From there, they’ll probably island-hop to somewhere on Montevel’s coast in a yacht.’

  She set her mug down with a small crash. ‘They’re mad! How on earth do they think they’re going to topple the rulers there—a group of university kids with more brains than sense?’

  ‘They’re expecting the populace to rise up with them once they’ve been given a leader.’

  ‘Doran,’ she said numbly.

  ‘Yes—and it just might work. To people who’ve had a pretty rough time for the past fifty years, the idea of the King returning and bringing good times with him could be potent enough to start an uprising.’

  ‘But the rulers control the military,’ she said, her voice dragging.