by Nora Roberts
“No regrets,” she told him, letting the words echo through her mind for herself. Tossing her head, she pressed her heels to the gelding’s sides and took off in a gallop.
Bennett’s first reaction was surprise. He hadn’t expected her to ride so well or so forcefully. He took a moment to watch her race down the rise before he grinned and let Dracula have his head. Though she’d taken a good lead, Hannah heard them gaining ground behind her. Delighted, she bent lower over the gelding’s neck as she urged him on.
“We can’t beat them head-to-head,” she called to her mount. “But we might outwit them.”
The challenge was enough. Spurred by it, Hannah swung off the track and into the trees. The path here was narrow and rough, but what she sacrificed in speed, she gained in maneuverability. Bennett was hard on her heels, but she kept to the center giving him no room to pass. She burst through the trees and onto a field less than two lengths ahead. Instinct had her veering to the left and pounding up another rise so that Bennett had to check his momentum at the unexpected maneuver. Still, he continued to gain so that when the stables came into view they were nearly neck and neck. Laughing, she veered left again and headed for a hedge.
He felt an instant’s panic as he imagined her flying off her mount onto the ground. Then they were sailing over, side by side. Heels down, knees snug, they thundered toward the stables.
Pipit stood with his hands on his hips. He’d watched them since they’d barreled over the rise with the gelding in the lead. Since they’d taken the jump, the stallion had pulled ahead with smooth, easy strides. To be expected, Pipit thought as he rubbed his hands on the thighs of his pants. There wasn’t another horse in Cordina—or in Europe as far as he was concerned—that could match the stallion.
But he thought as he watched the woman keep the distance close that Prince Bennett had at last met his match.
Bennett reined in and slid from the horse’s back with excitement still drumming in his head. She was only seconds behind him. Her laughter was low and a bit breathless as she started to swing down. Bennett was there to take her by the waist and turn her to him before her feet hit the ground.
“How did you learn to ride like that?”
She lifted her hands to his chest, as much to keep the distance as her balance. “It’s the one thing I excel at other than literature. I’d forgotten how much I’ve missed it these last few months.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was pure desire now, basic, vital. The ride they could have together would be as wild, as reckless as the ride they’d just completed. Somehow he knew it, could almost taste it. For reasons he couldn’t name, he felt that he was holding two women. One calm, one passionate. He wasn’t sure which one drew him more.
“Ride with me tomorrow.”
Once had been a risk and a delight. Twice, Hannah knew, would be a foolish mistake. “I don’t think that’s possible. With Eve’s play about to open, there’s so much to be done at the theater.”
He wouldn’t push. He’d promised himself that he would give her the time to become accustomed to having him with her. From the moment on the rise when he’d realized just what that meant to him, he’d been more determined than ever to court her properly.
A first for the Royal Rake, he thought as he stepped back to kiss her hand.
“The stables are at your disposal whenever you find the time to use them.”
“I appreciate that.” She reached up a hand to her hair to be certain her pins were in place. “I enjoyed this, Bennett, very much.”
“So did I.”
“Well, Eve will be waiting for me.”
“Go ahead. Pipit and I will see to them.”
“Thank you.” She was stalling. The moment she realized it, Hannah drew herself in. “Goodbye, Bennett.”
“Hannah.” He nodded, then watched her walk back toward the palace. A smile tugged at his mouth as he patted his horse’s neck. “I’m getting to her, mon ami,” he murmured. “It’s just going to take a bit of time.”
* * *
Time moved so quickly. Locked in her room, Hannah held the letter from Sussex. Inside, she would find Deboque’s answer to the demand she’d made only days before in the museum. Her hands were steady as she sat at her desk. With the ivory-handled letter opener provided her, she slit through the envelope. Inside was a casual, even uninspired letter from an acquaintance in England. It took Hannah less than fifteen minutes to decode it.
Request granted. December third, 23:30. Café du Dauphin. Alone. Contact will ask for the time, in English, then comment, in French, on the weather. Be certain your information warrants the exception to procedure.
Tonight. The next step would be taken tonight. Hannah folded the letter back into the envelope, but left it in plain view on her desk. Beside it was a single white rose Bennett had sent to her that morning. Hannah hesitated, then gave herself the pleasure of touching the petals.
If only life were as sweet and as simple.
Moments later, she was knocking on Prince Armand’s office door.
It was opened by his secretary who bowed stiffly to her before announcing her to the prince. Armand stood behind his desk as he gave permission to admit her.
“Your Highness.” Hannah made a deep curtsy. “I apologize for disturbing you.”
“Not at all, Hannah.”
“But you’re busy.” She stood just inside of the door, hands folded. “I only wished to ask your advice on something. If it’s convenient, I’ll come back later.”
“It’s convenient now. Please come in and sit. Michel, if you would see to those few matters now, I’ll have a private word with Lady Hannah.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Michel bowed his way out of the room. When the door was closed, Hannah dropped her hands to her sides. Her stride firm, she walked to the desk. “We’ve gotten a break. You’ll have to call Reeve immediately.”
* * *
“I’m not easy about this,” Armand said some time later when his son-in-law sat across from him. “How can we be sure Deboque will be fooled by the information Hannah will feed him?”
“Because it’s so nearly the truth.” Reeve downed his second cup of coffee. “Unless Hannah can give him something important, something he has no other way of getting, she’ll never get close to him.”
“But will he believe her?”
“It’s my job to make sure he does,” Hannah said quietly. “Your Highness, I know you’ve had objections to this operation all along, but up to this point it’s worked exactly as we’ve wanted.”
“To this point,” Armand agreed, and rose. He gestured them both back into their seats so that he could pace in peace. “Now I’m in the position of asking a woman, a woman who both my family and myself have become very fond of, to go alone to meet a man who kills as much for pleasure as for profit.”
“She won’t be alone.”
At Reeve’s announcement, Hannah sat straight up. “I have to be. If Deboque or one of his men have the slightest clue that I’m not, the whole operation goes up in smoke. I won’t have it.” Now, she rose as well. “I’ve given this two years of my life.”
“And I intend to see that you live a bit longer,” Reeve said mildly. “We suspect that Deboque has his headquarters in a small villa about five miles from here. We’ll have men watching it.”
“And they’ll have Deboque’s men watching them.”
“Leave that part to me, Hannah, and do your job. You have the blueprints and the specs on the security systems?”
“Yes, of course.” Annoyed, she sat again. “And I know I’m to give them to no one but Deboque.”
“You also know that at the first sign that things are going wrong, you’re to pull out.”
She nodded, though she had no intention of doing so. “Yes.”
“There’ll be two men stationed at the café.”
“Why don’t you just send up a flare?” Hannah tossed back.
He understood her frustration, but merel
y poured a third cup of coffee. “It’s a choice between that or wiring you.”
“The last agent who attempted to get a wire into Deboque’s organization was sent back to the ISS in three boxes.”
Reeve moved his shoulders. “Your choice.”
Again, Hannah rose. “I’m not used to being second-guessed, Reeve.” When he said nothing, she set her teeth. “I realize that you’re my superior on this assignment, so I don’t believe I have much of a choice.”
“As long as we understand each other.” He rose then, and took her hand. “Hannah, I’m aware of your reputation. Why don’t we just say I don’t want to take any chances on losing one of the best?” Releasing her, he turned back to the prince. “I have a few things to put into motion. I’ll keep in touch.”
Armand waited until the door was closed again. “Another moment, please,” he said to Hannah. “If you’d sit?”
She wanted to be alone, to plan each detail out carefully. There was only a matter of hours left. Breeding was as strong as training, so she sat. “Would you like me to go over things with you again, sir?”
“No.” His lips curved, just slightly. “I believe I grasp the situation well enough. I have a personal question, Hannah, and I ask you beforehand not to be offended.” He sat across from her, militarily straight. “Am I mistaken, or has my son become fond of you?”
She linked her hands together immediately as her whole body went on alert. “If you mean Prince Bennett, sir, he’s been very kind.”
“Hannah, for my sake, please dispense with the evasions and the manners. Too often duty has interfered with the time I can spend with my family, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know my children and know them well. I believe Bennett is in love with you.”
She went pale instantly. “No.” She had to swallow, but the word came out a second time just as strongly. “No, he’s not. Perhaps he’s a bit intrigued, but only because I’m not the kind of woman he’s used to spending time with.”
“Hannah.” Armand held up a hand before she could continue her rambling denial. “I don’t ask in order to upset you. When I began to suspect this, it made me uncomfortable only because Bennett is unaware of your true purpose here.”
“I understand.”
“I’m not sure you do. Bennett is more like his mother than my other children. So . . . kindhearted. His temper has more of a lash, but his feelings are more easily reached. I only ask you this because if the answer to my next question is no, I must request that you tread softly. Do you love him, Hannah?”
Everything she felt was in her eyes. She knew it, and lowered her gaze quickly. “Whatever I feel for Bennett, for your family, won’t interfere with my job.”
“I know enough to recognize a person who will do what has to be done.” He felt a stirring for her, a grave kind of pity that twined with empathy. “But you didn’t answer me. Do you love my son?”
“I can’t.” This time her voice wasn’t strong and there were tears chasing behind it. “I’ve lied to him since the first, and I’ll go on doing so. You can’t love and lie. Please excuse me, Your Highness.”
Armand let her go. For a moment, he sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. For the next few hours, he could do nothing more than pray for her.
* * *
The café wasn’t one of the pretty little tourist spots in Cordina. It was a local waterfront bar that catered to the crews from the fishing and cargo boats. Inside it was cramped with tables, many empty, and smoke and the smell of liquor. Not as rough as they came, Hannah thought as she slipped inside, but neither was it a place where a woman alone would wander unless she was looking for trouble.
Still, she didn’t cause much of a stir as she came in. In her plain gray sweater and slacks, she nearly blended into the walls. The handful of women who were already there were more interesting fare. If she could get this over with quickly, she might not have to discourage any of the locals.
Hannah chose a bar stool and ordered a bourbon, neat. By the time it was served, she had sized up the room. If Reeve had indeed planted two agents here, they were certainly good ones. It was a rare thing when Hannah couldn’t spot one of her own.
She’d been drinking silently for ten minutes when one of the men stood from a table and wandered in her direction. Hannah continued to drink while every muscle tensed. When he spoke, it was in French and thickened by whiskey.
“It’s a sad thing for a woman to drink alone.”
Hannah relaxed only enough to be annoyed. She used her primmest British tones. “It’s a sadder thing for a woman not to remain alone when she chooses to.”
“When one is so plain, she shouldn’t be so picky,” he grumbled, but moved away again. Hannah nearly smiled, then another man came through the doors.
He was dressed in seaman’s clothes, with his cap pulled low. Beneath it his face was deeply tanned and gaunt. This time she tensed because she was certain.
Still, she idly lifted her drink as he moved to sit beside her at the bar.
“You have the time, mademoiselle?”
“Yes, it’s quarter to twelve.”
“Thank you.” He signaled for a drink. Another minute passed as he toyed with it. “Il fait chaud ce soir.”
“Oui, un peu.”
They didn’t speak again. Behind them a group began to sing a song, in French and off-key. The wine was flowing freely and the night was still young. He finished his drink and left the bar. Hannah waited only a moment, then got up to follow.
He waited for her at the edge of the dock. There was little lighting here so that he was more shadow than man. Hannah moved toward him, knowing it could be the beginning or the end for her.
“You have the information.” Again he spoke in English. It was bland and unaccented, just as his French had been. Deboque chose well, she thought and only nodded.
“We go by boat.” He indicated the small open runabout.
Hannah knew she had no choice. She could refuse, or she could go on. Though she knew she would have no backup on the sea, she never even considered the first. Deboque was the destination. That was the bottom line.
Without hesitation, she lowered herself into the boat and took a seat at the stern. In silence, her contact got in beside her, cast off, and started the engine. It sounded like thunder on the open water.
Hannah took a deep breath. She was on her way.
Chapter 7
Reeve would be furious. Hannah rested a hand on the seat for balance as the boat picked up speed. He could afford to be, she thought, but she had to keep her head.
So Deboque wasn’t on land in the villa as they’d expected. He was, unless the boat made a sudden and dramatic change in direction, at sea. No, there would be no backup now. Hannah drew another deep breath and watched the water wake behind them. She preferred working alone in any case.
Tonight, she would meet Deboque. She could feel it. Her pulse was slow and steady, her breathing even. The spray the boat kicked up teased her skin as she kept her expression placid. Nerves, what there were of them, couldn’t be allowed to show. Her midnight cruise across the Mediterranean was bringing her closer to the goal she’d worked toward for just over twenty-four months.
Excitement, not fear, was building inside of her. Even that had to be controlled. Anything that made the pulse beat too fast or tempted the mind to swing too far ahead was dangerous. She couldn’t make a mistake. Over the past two years she’d worked her way up in Deboque’s organization, relying for the most part on her own skill. With the backing of the ISS she’d seen several jobs through to completion. Arms sold, diamonds liberated, drugs delivered.
The end justifies the means.
Rungs on the ladder, she thought. If she could continue to climb, it wouldn’t be long before Deboque’s kingdom of misery would come tumbling down on his own shoulders.
The trickiest rung had been making the well-placed Bouffe look incompetent. Deboque’s senior lieutenant wasn’t a fool and it’d taken a lot of guile and some
risk to see that several of his assignments over the last few months had fallen through, without throwing suspicion back on herself. The biggest of these had been the arms deal with a terrorist group known for their lack of patience.
It had been sticky, but the timing had been perfect. Hannah had managed to make it seem as though Bouffe had nearly botched the deal before she had slipped in to make things right.
The terrorists had their arms—she had to leave the ISS to deal with that. And Deboque had his five million francs. It would be her pleasure to deal with that. And soon.
She saw the sleek white yacht anchored majestically in dark water. A thrill of anticipation moved through her. At the wheel, her contact signaled with an electric lantern. There was an answering flash from the ship. The engine was cut, throwing the night into silence as they drifted alongside the yacht.
Hannah reached out for the ladder and found the metal cool and hard. She knew she would be the same. Without a backward glance, she climbed up, and into the unknown.
“Lady Hannah.”
There was a tall, dark-skinned man waiting for her. He took her hand and bowed over it. She recognized him from her last briefing, though she would have placed his accent as Jamaican in any case. He was Ricardo Batemen, a twenty-six-year-old islander, an ivy-league graduate with a degree in medicine. He still used a scalpel, but he preferred to wield it on the healthy and unanesthetized.
He had become a favorite of Deboque’s.
“I’m Ricardo.” His young, smooth face spread into a smile. “Welcome to the Invincible.”
“Thank you, Ricardo.” She gave a casual look around and counted five more men and one woman on deck. The men were dressed in dark suits and carried machine guns. The woman had a sarong draped over a bikini and looked bored. “Might I have a drink?”
“Of course.” His eyes, she noted, were pale, an almost translucent green that never seemed to blink. His voice was like rich cream over hot coffee. “But first, you must excuse our precautions. Your bag, Lady Hannah.”