by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
No one except her attendants touched a member of the royal family, much less as roughly as Gage had. Nadia knew she should be shocked, but instead, she felt a disturbing thread of excitement wend its way through her.
He was so close that she felt the curl of his breath against her cheeks. The sun glinting off his features chiseled them to almost sculptural sharpness. The fine lines radiating from eyes and mouth suggested a life far removed from diplomatic ease and comfort. Not an indoor man. A man of action, she concluded, the impression at odds with the little she knew about him. Perhaps he had been a soldier before becoming a diplomat.
The compulsion to touch his face to see if he was as hard as he looked was almost irresistible. His green gaze flashed a challenge at her, as if he sensed what she barely restrained herself from doing.
Only years of royal practice kept her hands at her sides and the reaction from reaching her face. Afraid that her gaze might betray her, she lowered her lashes. "Take your hands off me," she said in a commanding tone that any Tamiri would have obeyed without question.
As troubled by her response as by his touch, she wasn't surprised when he made no move to release her.
"When you admit I'm right about you," he insisted.
She opened her eyes, almost closing them again as his masculine aura slammed into her anew. "You're a man. It goes without saying," she said, striving to sound matter-of-fact. She suspected she failed miserably.
He continued to study her with unsettling intensity. "Not in my country."
"You are not in England now," she pointed out, struggling to keep her breathing even. She was torn between wishing that Tahani would return and interrupt them, and desperately hoping she wouldn't.
"I'm not..." he began. She saw him visibly check himself before saying, "I'm not talking about any particular country, but about basic human rights. You're a grown woman." His voice softened, and now it sounded like a caress. "You're a beautiful intelligent woman, and you have a right to your opinions."
What had he been about to say before he so obviously stopped himself? That he wasn't from England originally? She had worked that out for herself. He was right about the artist in her having well-developed powers of observation. They functioned even when she didn't want them to. Now they told her that his cultured English accent overlaid another, more musical accent, the language of his birth, perhaps. She found herself speculating on where that might be.
He thought her beautiful and intelligent, a traitorous inner voice said. The men of her own country appreciated beauty, but rarely endorsed her gender with intelligence. She had to fight the glow of pleasure that enveloped her at Gage's words. "You're not from Tamir," she said tiredly. "When you've been here a little longer, you'll see that our way is different, but not necessarily wrong."
He seemed to have forgotten that his hands still rested on her shoulders. The bite of his fingers had eased to a comfortable weight, his palms sliding down to her upper arms in the suggestion of an embrace. She knew she should move away or insist that he move away. She did neither, finding the touch far more enjoyable than was wise.
"Stopping people from reaching their full potential is always wrong," he persisted. His voice sounded husky, as if the closeness was affecting him, too, finally.
She felt her eyes start to swim as she stated the obvious. "My potential lies with my husband and the children we shall have. The only one stopping me from achieving that potential is me."
"Why?"
The question caught her off guard. With Tahani she had often discussed the paths their lives might have taken had things been different. But never with a man, not even Butrus. He had never been interested enough to ask, she thought with a touch of bitterness.
"Perhaps I was waiting for change," she whispered, recognizing the truth in her heart. Gordon had represented change, and he was gone. Now she had finally accepted that waiting was getting her nowhere.
"Change doesn't come to you. You make it happen."
Gage would make change happen, she thought, hearing his voice ring with conviction. He seemed like a man who took life by the scruff of the neck and shook it until it did his bidding.
The belief struck her as being at odds with his role as a minor official in the British Embassy. "Considering who you are, you're hardly in a position to talk," she challenged.
His hold on her arms tightened and his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
She sensed his attention sharpening and wondered what she had said to provoke the change. "You speak like a man of action, yet you occupy yourself with trade and diplomacy," she explained.
He let his hands drop. She felt a rush of disappointment, as if she had wanted the touch to turn into something more. Such a thought was so morally wrong that she shuddered inwardly.
"You're right of course." But he sounded amused rather than angered by her accusation. She waited for him to justify his choice of career in light of his provocative talk, but instead, he gestured toward the ornamental lake. Tired of waiting for more largesse from her, the swans had glided gracefully away, heading for the reed beds on the far side of the lake. "This fantasy setting tends to make one idealistic."
She should be pleased that the conversation had shifted to safer ground, but she felt regretful that the verbal sparring was at an end. It had made a refreshing change from her usual experience. She told herself she didn't rue the loss of Gage's touch, almost making herself believe it. "The estate is remarkable, isn't it?" she observed.
His gaze took in the acres of manicured gardens, leading down to a private, white-sand beach, overlooked by a turreted mansion furnished with antiques and priceless works of art. "Your fiance must come from a wealthy family."
In Gage's expression she saw mirrored her own curiosity about how Butrus had amassed the fortune this place must cost him to maintain. His family, though wellborn, were not as wealthy as the estate implied. Loyalty to Butrus made her say, "Reasonably so. He has also done well in my father's service."
"Your father is obviously a generous man and will be even more generous, no doubt, once Butrus becomes his son-in-law."
Anger coursed through her, as much at herself for letting this insolent man touch her as at his outrageous comments. That he might be echoing her own deepest concerns, she didn't like to think. "That's hardly any of your concern, Mr. Weston."
A smile curved the corners of his generous mouth, taunting her. "So it's Mr. Weston again, is it? Am I to be punished for speaking the truth?"
"Your kind of truth."
"Surely there can be only one truth."
She dragged in a steadying breath. "Are you a man of honor, Mr. Weston?"
Something indefinable flickered across his features, making her suspect that she had touched on a truth he didn't wish her to know. She would give a lot to know what it was.
"Most men like to think of themselves as honorable," he said.
She recognized his evasion and wondered again what he was keeping from her, but decided she would gain nothing by taking the direct approach. Better to watch and wait, see what he revealed in time. Another feminine skill her mother had imparted. "If you are truly a man of honor, you will keep a respectful distance from me in future, instead of trying to make me think less of the man I am to marry," she said.
Gage crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Is that an order, Your Highness?"
She inclined her head with regal grace. "You may consider it so."
"Then I must refuse."
Her head came up and she made no attempt to conceal her shock this time. No one refused to obey a royal command. "I can have you thrown in jail or deported from Tamir for such insolence."
He gave a careless shrug. "It's hardly insolent to tell you what you already suspect."
She turned away, wishing she had more bread to attract the swans, anything to occupy her hands and whirling thoughts. But she had nothing, so she pretended interest in inspecting a rare orchid just coming into bloom beside the lake. Cupping her h
ands around the bloom, she said, "You presume a great deal."
He placed his hand under hers so that they shared the orchid. "Bad habit of mine, I'm afraid." He didn't sound in the least regretful. "How well do you know Butrus Dabir?"
As Gage's palm grazed the backs of her hands, she suppressed a shiver of reaction. Such a light touch, but it resonated through her like the most passionate embrace. Taking her hands away would be far too revealing, so she stayed where she was, the sound of the blood pounding in her ears making it hard to concentrate.
"I've known Butrus most of my life. He is my father's closest adviser and a respected emissary for Tamir abroad."
"But how well do you really know him?"
Absently Gage's fingers twined with hers, making the orchid shiver against Nadia's palm. The sensation was unbelievably erotic, and she almost closed her hand around the delicate flower in shocked response, stopping herself barely in time.
"I'm not sure what you're implying, Gage."
She hadn't meant to use his first name but it slipped out, and she saw the gleam of gratification in his eyes. "This estate and everything in it didn't come from nowhere. Have you considered that your fiance may be involved in something more than royal affairs?"
She had considered it, dismissing the possibility as farfetched. No one in her father's service would be involved in anything underhand, and certainly not criminal. She had accepted Butrus's refusal to involve her in his business matters as male chauvinism. She resented Gage for attempting to make her think there could be a more sinister reason.
She shook her head, forcibly driving away the suspicion. "I don't know what advantage you hope to gain by undermining my faith in Butrus, but it isn't going to work. I command you to refrain from making such heinous remarks about him. Is that understood?"
He took his time removing his hands, letting them slide under hers slowly, provocatively, until she felt dizzy with the need for more of his touch. She wanted to find out what it would be like to be held in his arms completely, kissed by him, drowning in the desire that tantalized her at so slight a contact.
What was she thinking? Hadn't she just lectured him on showing respect for Butrus? What was she doing, if not dishonoring the man she was to marry by her very thoughts?
"I understand completely, Your Highness," Gage said softly. "From now on, if I speak of Butrus at all to you, I shall only speak in the most glowing terms."
She tried to feel mollified but was too shaken by Gage's effect on her. "Thank you," she said, hearing her voice come out infuriatingly husky.
Unexpectedly he caught her hands and lifted them to his lips, kissing her fingertips. "You're welcome, Princess."
Pleasure coiled through her, hot, sharp and totally inappropriate. She pulled her hands away as if burned. "It would be best if you rejoined the other men." Best for whom, she wasn't sure and was glad he didn't ask.
He gave the mocking salaam she had begun to expect from him. "Your wish is my command, Princess. I shall see you at dinner."
Anxiety gripped her as she watched him walk away. She had forgotten that she was to dine with the other guests and their wives that evening. She recoiled from the prospect. How could she sit at Butrus's right hand and act as if nothing had happened between her and Gage this afternoon?
Nothing had happened. A few looks, a casual touch or two, hardly amounted to disloyalty to Butrus, did they? Only if she accepted that they had meant more to her than they should have done. They hadn't, had they?
She was probably reading more into the encounter with Gage than was warranted because of the novelty of being touched by a man, she told herself.
She had allowed Gordon to touch her, and look where that had led. Afterward she had promised never to leave herself open to such heartache again. Agreeing to marry Butrus was a way of keeping that promise.
She told herself she was happy for her world to remain a sheltered one where her attendants and female doctors were the only people permitted to touch her. Even Butrus had done little more than take her hand in greeting or when they parted. By custom, he would do no more until they were man and wife.
Gage wasn't of their culture. To him, kissing Nadia's fingertips was probably no more than a gallant gesture, forgotten moments later. She wished she could forget it as swiftly.
She had lifted her hand to her mouth in imitation of his touch before she became aware of the movement and let her hand drop to her side. A rustling along the path brought her head up, expectancy coursing through her, try as she might to subdue it. Had Gage forgotten something and returned?
But it was only Tahani, bearing a tray. "I'm sorry to take so long, my princess. The foolish kitchen maid dropped the first pitcher of lemonade and I had to wait while she prepared another."
Lemonade was the furthest thing from Nadia's mind right now. She felt as if champagne was the only drink capable of matching the tumult inside her, and she had never craved such a drink in her life. What was it about Gage Weston that put such thoughts in her head?
"I don't mind," she said, wondering exactly to what she was referring. "I'm no longer thirsty, anyway. But I'll drink a little of the lemonade," she added, seeing Tahani look distressed.
The attendant placed the tray on a wrought-iron table in the shade of the pavilion and poured a drink for Nadia, who insisted Tahani have some, too. When they were seated out of the sun, Tahani said, "I saw Gage Weston coming from this direction, Princess. I hope he didn't intrude on your privacy."
If she only knew. "No, no. I was busy feeding the swans. They are lovely creatures, aren't they?"
As she'd hoped, the comment diverted Tahani from thoughts of Gage, and they began to discuss the many birds inhabiting the grounds of the estate. Despite Tahani being her closest confidante, Nadia was glad that the maid didn't know that talk about the swans and the hummingbirds only occupied part of the princess's mind.
Another part insisted on replaying a scene where she held an orchid in her hands, and Gage held both of them in his.
* * *
Why didn't he simply carry a placard advertising his suspicion of Butrus Dabir? Gage thought, angry with himself as he strode along the mosaic path back to the mansion. He had all but announced his concern to Princess Nadia just now. How much more unprofessional could he be?
He told himself he had wanted to find out how much she knew, but honesty made him accept that there was an element of jealousy, as well. She had thought herself unobserved, but Gage had seen her dancing attendance on Dabir since this gathering began, acceding to the man's every whim, never speaking up for herself. Couldn't Dabir see the strain around her lovely dark eyes every time she was treated like an empty-headed decoration?
Evidently not. Dabir had looked insufferably pleased with himself. Gage could swear the man heaped indignities upon Nadia for the sheer satisfaction of lording it over a member of royalty. Not that their relationship was any of Gage's affair, but he couldn't help pitying Nadia once she married Dabir, if the man was this dictatorial toward her now.
Gage's investigation into Dabir's past showed that he wasn't as high-born as was generally believed. He had been raised in a family of bluebloods, but Dabir himself was only the nephew of the man usually taken to be his father. His origins were far more modest, his real father having been killed in an accident in the oil fields while serving the Dabir interests. His mother had died in childbirth, so conscience probably drove the Dabirs to take Butrus in and raise him as their own, Gage concluded. Had the young Butrus resented being an object of charity? It would explain his driving ambition, which extended to marrying a princess.
Looking around at the lavish estate and thinking of his assigned quarters with their antique furnishings, ancient mosaic floors and valuable artworks, Gage had to admit that Butrus had succeeded spectacularly. A royal marriage would seal his emancipation from charity case to second-most powerful man in the country.
Knowing the man's unbridled ambition and the unsavory types he associated with, Gag
e had had to restrain himself from hauling Nadia away whenever he saw her with Dabir.
Gage froze in his tracks. When had he stopped thinking of her as a potential accomplice of Dabir's? He had no more proof of her innocence than he did of Dabir's guilt, although he still hoped to find evidence during the house party.
He had established that none of the guests he'd met up to now were linked to the Brothers of Darkness, although Gage was so convinced this party was a front for a meeting of that group that he could smell it.
The sessions he'd attended had been exactly what they seemed—tedious discussions aimed at drafting a modern preamble for the Tamir constitution. Dabir had even sought Gage's opinion once or twice. But Gage was sure this was only a cover for more sinister activities. Did the princess know what they were, or was she as much in the dark as Gage himself?
In his experience, suspects were guilty until proved innocent. He would have to beware that Nadia's hypnotic attractiveness didn't blind him to reality. Once was enough to be taken in by a woman's beauty and charm.
He stepped out of the way of a maid carrying a tray of drinks and sweetmeats along the path. She smiled shyly at him before continuing on her way, as did he.
Tahani—his mind supplied the name automatically. Taking refreshments to her mistress at the ornamental lake.
One of the glasses on the tray would soon be cupped in Princess Nadia's fine-boned hands, he thought. Jealousy flashed through him, white-hot and searing in its intensity. He wanted to be that glass. Hell, he wanted to hold her more than he had wanted anything in a long time.
He almost laughed out loud at the foolishness of his thought. A glass held in her hands, indeed. What if she was in league with Dabir? She would also share responsibility for Conrad's death. Would Gage want to hold her then?
Yes, he would, he thought, mortified. He would hate her and probably himself, as well, but he would want her no matter who she was or what he discovered she'd done. Why else seek her out so persistently?