by Mary Buckham
Late at night, when Lucius would come to her after long, frustrating meetings with Tarkioff, when his need for her was urgent and desperate, she'd want to pull him into her arms and tell him it'd be all right. But those times would slip past, lost in the intensity of his loving, swept aside by passion so strong she felt like kindling before its fire.
But it was hard to ignore the worry she'd catch in his eyes, the way he'd look at her as if trying to figure out a particularly difficult puzzle. So she did what she could to help. She kept things light between them. At any moment he could be snatched from her, their impossible paradise in the middle of tension destroyed, her own life snuffed out, but it didn't touch that inner part of her that felt sure, somehow, that things were going to be all right.
Maybe not peachy-keen kind of all right. How could they be when she would be heading back to midsummer in Sioux Falls in a matter of days and he—who knew where his next mission would send him, or with whom?
But she refused to think of such things. Instead she found delight in touching him, in sneaking her hand into his right before their limo would pull up to another function, of catching the surprised, then wary look he'd shoot her. He made her laugh. He made her ache. He made her want a tomorrow, while aware that every moment together was also bringing the time they'd be apart that much closer. No one had warned her that love could feel so poignant and so painful.
Lucius glanced at the memo clenched in his fist, then at his watch. They were running out of time. Now he understood who was behind what was going on, but not why. Tarkioff's wedding was less than three days away and they were no closer to finding out the why behind the threats on Jane's life—Elena's life—than they were before. And without the why they were never going to fix the problem.
Funny that he didn't give a tinker's damn right then what it meant to relations between his country and Vendari. Or what it meant to his career or the careers of his team.
None of it mattered. Not when it was Jane caught in the vortex. Something was going to break open, and soon, Lucius's gut told him as much and his experience reinforced the warnings. But he was in the dark as to the why, what, how and when. In other words, if he'd been blindfolded in a dark cave, he couldn't have felt any more out of touch.
And then there was Jane. Sweet, wonderful, trying-her-hardest-to-keep-a-smile-on-her-face Jane, and she was breaking his heart. He, who should have been protecting her, was being protected by her. Every time she took him into her arms, accepted him into her body, soothed when he felt the most frustrated, she showed him in a hundred ways the depth of her emotions, the strength of her commitment to him He didn't deserve it, any of it, yet she kept giving, kept her smiles bright for him and right on the mark.
He was tempted to stick her on the next plane back to the States and take the fallout. He would, too, if he was sure that would be safest for her. But his concern was that once she was out of his sight, out of his direct sphere of influence, she'd be vulnerable in ways he didn't want to imagine.
She'd been kidnapped once already because of her likeness to Elena Rostov, why not again? And there lay the crux of the problem. If she stayed in Vendari, continued her charade until the day of the wedding, she was in danger, and if she left, she was also in danger.
Since he couldn't fight on two fronts at once, while every instinct screamed at him to get her away—as far away from him and Vendari as he could—he knew she'd be safest where he could see her, touch her, protect her.
He was betting her life, and the best part of his, that he was making the right choice.
He glanced back at his watch when he heard the door behind him open. Relief surged through him the moment he recognized Jane's hand on the door, just one more sign of the strain he'd been feeling the last week.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked, stepping into the room in the cautious way she'd moved the last couple of days. As if by walking warily, not stirring the space about her much, she might become invisible. He wondered if it was a trait from her childhood, a childhood he doubted had given her much sense of security and assurance. He'd at least had that much. Too much responsibility at too young an age, but he had known that his mother had needed and wanted him.
"Come in." He waved her into the library, thankful it was empty for a few moments. "The king and his brother might intrude at any minute."
"If the Head of Security is with the king is it important?"
"A formality."
She had enough to deal with without his concerns on top of them.
She offered him a tentative smile, as if gauging his mood before trusting her own reaction. "I was hoping to find you alone."
He opened his arms and she stepped into them. It was that easy. In spite of everything he'd done to her—brought her to this isolated country, embroiled her in a potential revolution that didn't amount to a lot in the scope of world affairs, taken advantage of her vulnerability to become her lover—in spite of it all, she came into his arms without hesitation. It staggered him.
"I'm alone." He brushed a kiss across her hair, wanting more, knowing at any second they could be interrupted. "I thought you were going to spend the day in your room."
"I've memorized every square inch of those walls." He heard the frustration in her voice and bit back a smile. His kitten was a lioness at heart, though he doubted she thought of herself that way.
"There's a dinner this evening."
"The dinners are hardest of all." He felt her frown as she rubbed her cheek against his chest, setting off an explosion of need throughout his system. "I feel like you're so far away from me, even though you're in the same room."
"It'll be over with soon."
He felt her tense immediately and wanted to bite his tongue. They'd both sidestepped the issue neatly. Never acknowledging that one day she'd be on her way, he on his, but they'd both known it was inevitable.
"I don't mean to complain." She pulled out of his arms and stepped back, a tremulous smile that tore at his being touching her lips. "I just thought, maybe for a short while, sometime today we could get away. Find an excuse to take a drive or have a picnic somewhere."
He watched the way she wrapped her arms about her as if holding herself together, and decided, though it'd take a lot of rearranging and adjusting, it'd be worth it to take the shadows from her eyes.
"I have to do this meeting with Tarkioff and his brother for a few moments." Her expression looked crestfallen. "But I'm sure I can work something out. It might not be for long."
"Even an hour or two away would help."
"I'll make it happen."
A genuine smile touched her lips, darkened the intensity of her eyes. He felt as if he'd just handed her the world on a golden platter, a feeling that only increased when she reached her palm out to lay it upon his cheek.
"Even a few minutes alone with you in the middle of the day would be wonderful." He thought he saw moisture in her eyes until her gaze dropped, along with her palm. "I'll go get ready."
"Is one of my men with you?"
"Yes, sir." She gave him a snappy salute in response to his tone. "It's Elderman. The young one with the thick eyelashes."
"Good." Though he'd never had one of his crack team described quite that way before, he told himself not to groan. Later he'd have to razz the young man about it. It was too good to pass up. "I don't want you going anywhere without him or one of the others. Is that clear?"
With an indulgent grin she patted his cheek. "If I had a nickel for every time you've told me that I'd be rich."
"It's for—"
"I know, I know." Her rich, deep chuckle sent its own message to his libido, though he could ill afford to act on it. "It's for my own good. I've heard that a few times, too."
"And I'll keep saying it until it gets through."
"You're so cute when you're being all stiff and official."
He did groan this time. "Damn it, I'm not trying to be cute, I'm trying to keep you alive."
"I know you are, and you
will." She'd reversed roles on him again, being the one to reassure rather than the one who needed reassurance. "I trust you implicitly."
Maybe that was part of the problem, he thought. She trusted him too much. She thought he was better than he was, but he was only a man. A man who would do anything to keep her safe.
"Jane, I…" He wanted to tell her, at least once, what she meant to him. But before he could, he heard the rattle of the door handle.
He watched Jane turn toward the door, his attention focused solely on her until he saw her expression change, her eyes grow wide, her smile disappear. Only then did he follow the direction of her gaze. He expected to see Tarkioff or his brother. He expected anything except the person who walked through the door.
Jane wondered for a split second whether she was awake or dreaming. The sense of unreality was strong enough to have her doubting that what she saw, or who she saw, could be real. It was like looking into a mirror, only one that walked and talked and smiled, a cold, calculating smile that sent goose bumps crawling up her arm.
"How quaint." The voice was even and well-modulated, carrying the lightest of accents over the sheen of concession. "I didn't expect to find you both here, though this will make everything so much easier."
Jane turned to glance at Lucius, surprised at the rigidity of his stance. This was not the same man who only moments ago was holding her, teasing her. The man before her was all business. Cold, controlled business.
"What are you doing here?" Ice coated his words.
"Now, darling, that's not the welcome I was expecting. Especially from you."
Jane told herself the words meant nothing.
"I don't understand." It was her own voice, sounding more unsure and frightened than she wished, though it was nothing to what she felt like inside.
"Well, aren't you going to introduce us?" The other woman asked, her gaze still locked with Lucius's, her blood-red lips turned up in a mockery of a smile. "Though I'd say any introduction would be unnecessary."
"Jane, I'd like you to meet Elena Rostov." Jane could tell by the other woman's flinch that she didn't appreciate the order of the introduction, nor the contempt in Lucius's tone. "The real Elena."
The real Elena, indeed, Jane thought, wondering how anybody could have believed she, Jane, was the woman before her. Except for height, size, features and coloring, it was like comparing apples to oranges. This was obviously a woman of the world, smooth, effortlessly in control, sure of herself, her words purred, her movements were sultry, even her expression was more assured. Jane had never felt more like the country mouse, or the third wheel.
"Nice to meet you." She knew the woman didn't hear her words. Elena's attention was too focused on Lucius.
"You don't seem pleased to see me, darling."
"I'm not."
It was Jane who flinched this time.
"You must learn to be more diplomatic, Major." The woman moved into the room, her smile as tight as her tone. "That is your role, is it not? To facilitate relations between our two countries."
"Why are you here, Elena?" Jane could see that Lucius had not moved, yet his voice sliced through the room. "How did you get in here?"
The woman's laugh did nothing to ease the tension. "That was so simple. Your man assumed I was your impostor."
Jane felt like day-old dog meat.
"He asked how I'd left this room but I simply waved him off."
Lucius's expression did not bode well for the young man. "It still doesn't explain why you're here."
"No, it doesn't." The woman ran her hand along the back of an overstuffed chair, an exaggerated gesture befitting a B-grade movie. Her expression appeared amused. "But I believe you'll have to wait until the king and Eustace join us."
The words sounded innocent enough, but Jane could feel Lucius tense at her side. Whatever was going on, he didn't like it.
"You know you've placed both your life and Jane's in danger by being here."
"Oh, don't be so stuffy, darling." The real Elena fluttered her lashes. If she hadn't seen it herself, Jane would have thought the gesture impossible. But somehow on the other woman it worked. "You've always been too serious. All work and no play makes for a dull boy."
Obviously Elena did not know Lucius very well, Jane realized, if she thought him dull and serious. The knowledge reassured her. She could see Lucius being taken in by the woman's sultry beauty, but never by her layered seduction.
Before she could feel too sorry for Elena, though, the door opened again and the voice of Eustace Tarkioff boomed into the room.
"It makes perfect sense. You must trust me on this, Viktor."
Whatever the other man's answer might have been was cut off as both men spied the woman poised dramatically against the plush chair. It was a good pose, Jane had to give her credit for that, even as she watched gazes swing back and forth between Elena and herself.
She didn't blame them for being speechless, though she wished somebody would say something soon to break the strained silence in the room.
It was Elena who spoke at last. "Come in, gentlemen, and close the door behind you."
The Head of Security did as she said, though his mouth remained open, his gaze wary.
"You all look as if you're seeing a ghost, though you know full well I have been alive and well." Her laugh sounded a little strained to Jane's ears.
"Of course, my dear." It was Tarkioff who stepped forward and placed a kiss on the cheek she turned to him. "It was just that we were not expecting you like this."
His glance swung to Lucius and back to his brother.
Jane felt like an invisible reflection until Eustace looked her way, then spoke up. "This was not the plan."
"Plans can change, as you should well know, dear."
There were currents beneath currents here. Jane couldn't quite put her finger on what was happening. Or why. Whatever it was, Lucius must have noticed, too, as he stepped slightly forward and closer to her side, almost shutting her out of the conversation and the triangle of people standing across from them.
The king regarded his brother with a quizzical expression.
"Dear?" he asked at last, pinpointing for Jane one of the lines of tension radiating like a spoke from the woman before her.
Before Eustace Tarkioff could answer, Elena laughed again and spoke to the king this time.
"Don't be any bigger a fool than you already are, darling."
Ouch, Jane thought, watching the king's features tighten, but it was Lucius who jumped into the fray.
"I think it's time for your explanations, Elena. Yours and Eustace's."
Now nothing made sense. Why was he lumping the beautiful woman with the reserved, quiet Head of Security?
"I knew you'd catch on. Eventually." This time Elena's laugh sounded genuine, her gaze lingering overlong on Lucius. "It's too bad for your plans it didn't happen sooner."
"What plans? What didn't happen sooner?" Jane was as surprised as the rest of the room when it was her voice demanding answers.
"Stay out of this, Jane." Lucius's voice brooked no objections. A sharp slap across the face would have stung less.
"Be kind, darling, tell the poor girl what she wants to know."
Jane didn't care much for being "the poor girl," but she was glad somebody was suggesting she be let in on the secret. If not a secret, whatever it was the rest of the room seemed to know about. All right, maybe not the king, who also looked genuinely baffled.
"It's simple enough." Lucius spoke as if even an idiot could figure it out. "Let me ask, though, how long have you and Eustace been acting together?"
Elena and the king's brother acting together for what? Jane wanted to know, but Lucius had stepped forward again, all but shoving her out of the way.
"That's idiotic." It was the king's voice echoing through the room. "Tell him, Eustace. That is absolutely preposterous."
"I'm afraid he is right, Viktor." Eustace turned toward Lucius, his face no longer amiable and c
onciliatory, but hard and measured. "We have been acting in unison since the beginning. It was I, after all, who suggested the union between our dear Elena and the king."
"Of course." Lucius's voice sounded different, as if he was encouraging a slow student.
"So the first assassination attempt was a ploy?"
"No, darling, it was real enough." Elena answered, and Jane thought her shudder was real. "Though not planned, it did serve a purpose."
"And the explosions at the pool and on the night of the dinner here at the palace?" Lucius might have been asking for a bus schedule for all the emotion behind his words.
"Crude, but effective don't you think?" The younger Tarkioff's voice cut in. "Elena knew you would get suspicious if there were no more attempts on her life."
"And if I was too suspicious I'd have looked closer into the first attempt."
"There was always that possibility, Major."
Elena glanced at the Head of Security as if saying, "See, I told you he was a bright boy," but Jane thought she was the only one who caught the gloating glance.
The king, who, up until this time had remained mute, asserted himself. "Explain, Eustace. Why have you gone behind my back to perpetuate this threat upon my fiancée? It makes no sense."
"But it does." Eustace's voice held none of the diffidence it normally did when addressing his older brother. "Because Elena is not your fiancée."
"Of course she is—"
"Be quiet, you fool." Elena's voice cut through the room, sharply honed and lethal. "The whole engagement has been a sham. I would no more marry you than rut with a pig."
The woman's words reverberated around the room in the sudden silence. Even Lucius seemed taken aback as he reached one hand out to pull Jane closer to his side and slightly behind him. She wondered who was going to sling the next mud.
As if ignoring his fiancée's, or pretend fiancée's words, the king turned to his brother. "Eustace, I order you to explain yourself."
"Gladly, Your Highness." The man's words sounded straightforward but not his tone. Not one bit. "I have been working with the Rostov family for years."