by Rebecca York
“It probably wasn’t one of his better moments.”
She leaped up immediately, her hands on her hips. “Are you saying the mission failure was his fault?”
“Of course not. Technically, it was Liam Shea’s fault. He was the man who cut the power too quickly. He was tried for insubordination and given a ten-year sentence.”
She made a quick calculation. “That means he got out of jail a year ago.”
“Yes. I wanted to keep track of him. But he dropped out of sight. I think he was setting up a revenge scenario, with his three sons helping him.”
She struggled to wrap her head around the idea. “Why do you think that?”
Shane flexed his feet in his borrowed shoes. “Tonight has a lot of parallels with the mission to Barik.”
“Like what exactly?”
“The blackout. The hostages. The cyanide gas. And the people. You heard the president say that the kidnappers seemed more interested in Grant Davis than in him?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Davis was on the mission.”
“The vice president was with you?”
“He was just an army officer then. One of the team. So was I. Also Ty Jones and my brother, Chase. Your father was our civilian interpreter. He was supposed to be here tonight, too. Only he couldn’t come to the reception, so you’re standing in for him. When was that decision made?”
“A few days ago.”
“So when you showed up instead, they had to improvise.”
“You’re saying tonight is all about…punishing the other members of the team.”
“Yeah.”
She caught her breath, considering the implications. It was too monstrous. Too much to take in. If he was right, then Liam Shea had been making plans for a long time. Or was Peters spinning this story for his own purposes?
“Why should I believe you?” she demanded.
“Do you have a better explanation?”
“No. But you could be using that story to keep me close to you.”
He made a rough sound. “Why would I do that?”
“Why did you take the sapphire?”
“I told you my thinking on that.”
She made an unladylike sound. “You gave me a crazy story about stealing it to prove our security system was inadequate.”
“That’s right. It was. You saw the proof.”
She tipped her head to one side, studying him. “Is that how you get all your jobs—by subterfuge?”
“Of course not,” he answered, his voice hard and quick in the darkened room.
He had hurt her. Under ordinary circumstances, she would simply have turned her back on him and walked away, and she would have made him believe he had never touched her emotions. But they were stuck in this little room, and she heard herself saying, “I guess you get a charge out of toying with people’s feelings.”
“No, I don’t.”
His denial only sparked her anger. “Oh come on. You were seeing how far you could play me, weren’t you?”
Ariana watched Shane’s expression turn stony, and all at once she knew she had pushed him too far.
She’d succeeded in putting herself into a dangerous situation without half trying.
Chapter Ten
Ariana’s pulse pounded as the man she’d hated took a step forward, looming over her in the darkness.
“Are you saying that what happened between us wasn’t real? Are you saying that I was playing some kind of game when I kissed you? That I wasn’t emotionally involved?” he asked in a deceptively even voice.
Her mouth had turned so dry that she could hardly speak. She licked her lips, wondering what she was going to say and wondering if she had secretly been provoking him because she couldn’t stand the gulf between them.
He was speaking again, the sound barely coming to her above the buzzing in her own ears.
“I think I’ve taken enough of your verbal abuse. Let’s see if that’s what you really think.”
Before she could answer, he crossed the remainder of the space between them and took her in his arms.
She might have tried to push him away, but she was too stunned. He tipped her chin up and brought his mouth down on hers.
Their last kiss had been frantic. She might have called this one savage—if she’d been able to define it.
But she was hardly able to think. As Shane’s mouth moved over hers, he swept her up in a whirlwind of feelings and sensations that had been simmering below the surface all the time they’d been together.
Anger hadn’t wiped them away. Perhaps anger had intensified her response. Or perhaps she had been desperate to find out what had really happened between them.
Whatever it was ran strong and deep. She was instantly aroused. Instantly so needy that her knees went weak.
When he silently asked her to open for him, she was helpless to refuse. Her lips parted, and his tongue swept into her mouth, melding with her, the contact unbearably erotic.
He lifted his mouth a fraction of an inch. “You think this is playing?”
Honesty forced her to say “No.”
“Thank God.”
The emotion in his words made her sway on her feet. She had to cling to him to stay erect, and when she felt him sway, too, she sensed that he was as overcome as she was by the intimate contact and by the honesty of her answer.
He moved back, bringing her with him, bracing himself against the wall as he pulled her more firmly against his hard body.
He lowered his head again, and as he kissed her, his hands moved across her shoulders and into her hair, destroying what was left of her carefully arranged coiffure, sending her long hair cascading down her back.
She heard a moaning sound and knew that it had risen in her own throat.
He spoke her name, spoke directly into her mouth. And that was unbearably erotic.
She answered, helpless to do anything besides respond to this man she should never have met.
He shouldn’t be holding her, kissing her. He shouldn’t be reaching under her shirt, splaying his hands against the hot skin of her back.
But he was doing it, and she was letting him. More than letting him, she was reveling in the caress.
His hands moved restlessly across her back, then stopped.
“You’re not wearing a bra!”
“It was part of my dress,” she answered, hearing the embarrassment in her voice.
“Don’t apologize. You feel wonderful. Your skin is so soft. Like warm silk.”
His hands moved to her ribs, and when she didn’t stop him, they traveled higher, to the sides of her breasts.
She made a strangled sound as he stroked her there, making her nipples contract to tight points of sensation.
“You like that.”
“Yes.”
Slowly, tenderly, giving her time to pull away, he moved his hands inward so that he could cup her breasts in his palms.
“Oh!”
No man had touched her so intimately. Ever. She had never imagined that it could feel so good.
She wanted more, but she didn’t know what to ask for.
He stared down into her face as he glided his fingertips across the crests, creating powerful sensations in her body.
Her breath caught. So did his. She could feel a hard shaft pressing against her middle. She knew what it was. And she knew where this could lead.
“You feel so good,” he whispered. “Which is why I have to stop.”
He pulled his hands away, letting them drop to his sides.
“Don’t,” she pleaded.
“We both know we can’t go any further.”
She knew it, somewhere in her fogged brain. She felt as if she’d drunk too much champagne at a state reception. Still, she was astonished that she had let him go this far. Astonished that she had practically begged for him to do anything he wanted. Anything she wanted.
Her blood was on fire, and she didn’t want to stop. Yet she knew that there were things tha
t Princess Ariana of Beau Pays couldn’t do. Must not do.
None of her training had prepared her for this situation. She shouldn’t be here alone with a man. A man she wanted to make love with her. When she had read about scenes like this in books, she had thought they were just from the writer’s imagination, certainly never thought they would apply to her.
“I’m sorry,” Shane said.
“Don’t be.”
“I was taking advantage of you.”
Only the truth would do. “Of course not.” She stared at him and licked her lips. “You would never have gotten that far if I didn’t want it.”
“Okay.”
The strained sound of his voice told her that he was serious about stopping. She couldn’t stand that. Not yet. Even when she understood that there was a limit to how far she could take this.
She cleared her throat. Before she could stop herself, she said, “I heard two of the maids talking once…” She ran out of words and almost lost her nerve, then started again. “One of them said she told her boyfriend that they could do anything they wanted as long as they kept their jeans on.”
His laugh was low and throaty. “Oh yeah? You mean you want to torture both of us?”
“Is it torture?” she asked in a small voice, knowing she was at a terrible disadvantage in this situation. Man-woman relationships were part of his background, but she didn’t know the rules of this game. She only knew that she couldn’t step away from him. Not now. She had to find a way to stay close to him.
She heard his answer, low and warm. “I think I can take it.” He leaned back against the wall again, this time splaying his legs to equalize their heights before pulling her center against the fly of his jeans.
She closed her eyes as she felt his arousal straining behind the fabric. His hands went to her back, then slid lower, caressing her through the worn fabric of the jeans.
All her life, she’d been warned not to get herself into compromising situations. All her training told her that this was a dangerous game. She had been warned about men who would try to take advantage of her. But she didn’t fear that with Shane. He had regained her trust, and she knew that he would drop his hands away from her body the moment she asked.
But she wasn’t asking for him to stop. Not at all, even when the intimacy of his touch shocked her.
She made small, strangled sounds as he caressed her, his fingers stroking forbidden places, tracing the crack of her bottom, all the time moving her against his body.
Heat surged inside her. One of his hands slipped under her shirt again, finding her breast, playing with the nipple as his other hand swayed her lower body against his, creating wonderful friction.
She understood the physical sensations she was feeling, marveling at what he was doing to increase her pleasure.
The part of her that had always been a good girl screamed at her that she should pull away from him before it was too late. But she didn’t want to pull away. She wanted the hot sensations to carry her up and up.
Unable to stop herself, she moved frantically against him, frustrated by the layers of fabric and yet sensing that they wouldn’t keep her from reaching the peak of pleasure.
He bent his head, his breath hot on her ear as he whispered low, arousing words to her.
“You are so sexy. So sweet. I love seeing you like this. Feeling you moving against me. Knowing I’m making you unbearably hot.”
She couldn’t stop herself now. Her need was too strong, too urgent. She came undone in a blaze of sensation, pressing her mouth against his shoulder to muffle the cry that sprang to her lips as she rocked against him.
He gripped her shoulder, steadying her.
Her eyes blinked open, and she stared up at him, stunned that she had let herself go so far, and stunned that he had encouraged her.
In all the warnings she’d been given, nobody had ever mentioned anything like this.
COLIN SHEA STEPPED from the darkness of the square into the darker shadows under the church porch. The front door was ajar. Cautiously he approached the opening. This could be an ambush, and he wasn’t going to let himself get trapped.
He poked his weapon inside, then swiftly rounded the corner. The vestibule was empty, but he saw evidence that someone had been through and made a mess. Apparently they had been in too much of a hurry to clean up.
A little table near the door was sitting catty wumpus in the aisleway, with brochures spilled onto the tile floor. Colin didn’t think the janitor had left them lying there.
Too bad the floor was so clean otherwise. If there had been any dust, he might have seen a trail of footprints leading away from the entrance.
Okay, where was there to go in this place?
He looked around and saw that there were stairs at either end of the vestibule. He moved toward one set and stood at the top, listening intently.
He heard nothing, so he started cautiously down. At the bottom, he opened a door and stepped into an open area with a gift shop at one side.
It probably led to a dead end. Peters wouldn’t be stupid enough to go in there.
Across from the gift shop was a glass wall with tall glass doors. He cautiously pulled one open and stepped into another large room.
Beyond was a hallway. Was it his imagination, or could he hear heavy breathing down on the lower level, like someone was exercising hard?
Or doing something else that wasn’t appropriate for a house of worship.
He held back a laugh. Score one for Peters. It sounded like he was having fun. Well, it was the last fun he was going to have.
In the square, Peters hadn’t returned fire. Which meant he’d been unarmed outside. And it was highly unlikely that he’d acquired a weapon in the church.
Killing him and the princess was going to be like shooting fish under a bridge on the Charles River. With military precision, he slid a new clip into his own weapon, then started across the open space.
ARIANA’S BREATH WAS still racing. So was Shane’s, and when she pressed her hand against his chest, she felt his heart thumping like a jackhammer.
“I…shouldn’t…have…done that,” she murmured, glad that the darkness hid the flush that spread across her cheeks.
He stroked his hand tenderly against her cheek. “If I’d wanted to stop you, I could have,” he answered in a gritty voice. “But I wanted to have that to remember.”
The words might be true, but the sound of loss in his voice made her chest tighten. When she tipped her head down, she found herself staring at the rigid flesh behind the fly of his jeans.
He’d spoken of torture. It hadn’t been torture for her, but she knew she had left him hot and wanting. “What about you?” she said in a small voice.
“I’ll survive,” he clipped out.
Would she? She wasn’t talking about physical satisfaction but emotional needs. She’d always known her role in life, always known that she must put her country before herself. That had helped her keep her emotions in check when she needed to focus on each job in her list of royal duties.
Suddenly, with this man, she felt as if blinders had been lifted off her eyes, and she was viewing the world in a whole new way. A dangerous way.
Even when she’d still been angry with him, she’d responded shockingly to his skillful lovemaking.
Now that she was thinking more clearly, she knew that letting herself fall into that sensual trap was wrong.
The worst part was it had suddenly become impossible to imagine a future without Shane Peters. Even when she knew there could be no future for the two of them. None.
No matter what she was feeling now or what she might feel later, she had to go back to her real life—her life in Beau Pays. Which meant she had to back away from Shane. And she had to find a way to apologize for leading him on.
Before she could dredge up the words she needed to say, they both heard a noise somewhere outside the room.
IN THE DIM LIGHT, SHANE THRUST Ariana behind him.
“What’s that?” she whispered, her features tense.
His voice was low and even. “I don’t know for sure. But I think we have to assume the guy who was shooting at us thinks we’re down here.”
She made a small sound. “What should we do?”
“Give him a surprise,” Shane answered. Swiftly he bent to rummage in one of the boxes of clothing and other items that had been donated by church members.
As he dug through the contents, he silently cursed his behavior. Apparently, when he was around Ariana LeBron, he couldn’t think straight. Once again, he’d gotten so wrapped up in her that he’d forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.
He’d been playing sex games with the princess. And someone out in the hall could be sneaking up to finish them off.
He found what he was looking for and wrapped the items in a couple of T-shirts. Then he transferred the sapphire to his jeans pocket.
Knowing that speed was important now, he scooped up the poles he’d taken from the rack. “Come on.”
“Where?”
He managed not to answer with a curse. He wished he had a map of the church basement. Then he might have a better idea where to hide. But he knew one thing. If they stayed in this glass-walled room, they’d be trapped.
Quickly he ushered her toward the front of the church, toward a hallway that ran perpendicular to the one they were in. Mentally flipping a coin, he picked the left-hand branch.
“This way,” he told Ariana, sending her ahead of him.
When they turned the corner, the stone wall shielded them from the previous corridor.
Shane hoped they could play hide-and-seek until he got his makeshift weapon ready. Opening another one of the meeting rooms, he pulled out two chairs, lining them up facing each other with their backs against the walls, then he laid the poles across the chair seats, creating a barrier that he hoped the gunman wouldn’t see in the dim light.
Apparently they’d made it out of the little room just in time. Footsteps came toward them, slowly, stealthily, then stopped at the corner of the hallway.
Working with grim haste, Shane began getting his makeshift weapons ready. First he opened the can of shoe polish he’d taken from the box of clothing and household items. Then he began smearing the petroleum-based product on one of the T-shirts he’d also taken.