by Valerie Parv
Her brother loomed over her, his expression menacing. “Don’t say another word. When we get rid of these crowned parasites, and our own people are running things, everything will be different, you’ll see. Then I can give you and Molly everything you ever wanted. The Moore name will count for something.”
It was the first hint she’d had that his group intended to harm their royal captives. She thought of the people prowling around outside, and shivered. “You mean to kill them, don’t you?” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Who will run the country then?”
“It’s none of your concern.”
“But why keep the prince here?” she asked. “Surely it would be better to hold him in a…a more secure location?”
Shane shook his head. “If you think I’m going to blurt out where they’ve got the king stowed, you’re wrong. I’m not that green. Keeping father and son in separate places makes good strategic sense. Your royal friend isn’t going anywhere as long as Dave and the team are within earshot. So you may as well accept that you have a houseguest for a while.”
He took himself back to the window to finish his sandwich and a bottle of beer he snagged from the table as he went. She looked after him, her heart sinking. It was true that Molly was hidden away with a friend from Meagan’s apprenticeship days, Anna Carmody. Meagan had let Anna think she needed some time to finish an urgent dressmaking assignment. But how long would the child remain safe? A group that would kidnap a king and his heir would hardly balk at hurting a three-year-old.
She tidied up the kitchen, gave Shane the food to deliver to the others and picked up another bottle of beer. Her expression defied her brother to comment as she carried the food to the small room where Nicholas lay.
When she walked in he had his eyes closed, giving her a moment to study him. His six-foot frame looked disturbingly large on Molly’s diminutive bed. His military-style ceremonial uniform jacket had been thrown over the baby-sized chair so the gold-fringed epaulets brushed the floor, and his white silk shirt and breeches were dust-streaked where the men had dragged him into the car. They still managed to outline his superb physique like a second skin.
The palace would have a gymnasium where he worked out with a personal trainer, she thought, trying to summon the same kind of jealousy she knew Shane harbored. It didn’t work. Instead, she had a powerful vision of the prince stripped to the waist hefting some kind of weights, his muscles glistening under the strain. She swallowed hard. She had no business thinking of him in any way at all, far less in a way that made her pulse beat ridiculously fast. The sooner he was out of her house, the sooner she could have Molly home again, safe from any threat, she told herself to dispel the images. Nicholas was merely a means to an end.
He was also married, she reminded herself. From the newspapers, she knew that King Michael’s disappearance had happened on the day Nicholas’s baby daughter, LeAnn, was to be christened. The entire royal family had gathered for the occasion, but the king’s car had crashed on the way to the cathedral. His driver had been drugged and had died in the wreckage. The king’s body was never found, and there was speculation that he had been kidnapped, although no ransom demand had been made.
Meagan knew the truth, although she wished she didn’t. Shane had boasted that the crash had been set up by his people with help from the group’s contact within the royal household. She felt sick even thinking about it. But what could she do? She had risked as much as she dared by telephoning the palace anonymously to let them know the king was still alive. Doing anything more could have dire consequences for her daughter. How could she take the risk?
“I see you’ve brought my bread and water,” Nicholas drawled from the bed. While she was lost in thought he had opened his eyes and caught her studying him. Had he also seen a betrayal of her attraction to him on her face? She hoped not, because she didn’t intend to indulge it for one second more. He was married with a child, for goodness sake. He was also the prince regent, acting for the king. What more did she need to convince herself that he was off-limits to her? Surely she wasn’t so starved for male company that she could feel drawn to someone so unsuitable?
She set the food down on the dresser. “It may not be the sort of food you’re accustomed to at the castle, Your Highness, but it’s hardly bread and water.”
“It looks fine,” he acknowledged with a nod. In the few words they had exchanged, he spoke to her as an equal, she noticed. From the way he acted, he was as gracious as if this was his home and he had invited her to dine with him.
He looked at the bonds restraining his hands. “It’s going to be difficult eating or drinking in this position.”
“I’m not supposed to untie you,” she said, glancing back at the closed door.
“Then you’ll have to feed me,” he said, sounding as if he found the prospect appealing.
Meagan didn’t, but couldn’t see that she had much choice. He shimmied over against the wall, but that still left only a sliver of bed for her to perch on, so there was no avoiding contact with him when she sat down. He was as lean and hard as she had expected. What she hadn’t expected was the awareness that arced through her, as alarming as it was inappropriate, but she couldn’t deny the strength of it.
“Your hands are trembling,” he said as she pulled off a corner of sandwich and placed it between his lips. His teeth grazed her fingers, notching her sense of awareness up several degrees in intensity.
“Stop talking and eat,” she said, as annoyed with herself as with him for making her feel things she had no business feeling.
He ate. “This is good,” he said after several bites. “I might wash it down with some of that beer now.”
“This isn’t room service,” she snapped, driven almost to fever pitch by the enforced closeness. She could swear he was needlessly skimming his mouth over her fingers, heightening the contact, as if well aware of the effect he was having on her.
His wide shoulders lifted. “Then untie me and I’ll drink the beer myself. I’m a big boy.”
Of that she had no doubt. “Nice try, Your Highness,” she said, lifting the foaming bottle to his mouth.
He drank eagerly, as if thirst was a bigger problem than hunger. When she pulled the bottle away, foam rimmed his upper lip. Without thinking, she used a clean handkerchief to wipe it away. The gesture was so intimate that her breath hitched. He felt it too, she saw from the way his eyes darkened and he dragged in air.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked in a husky tone. “Even if they are threatening your child, there are people you can turn to for help.”
“You don’t know these people the way I do.”
“Is Molly’s father still part of the conspiracy?” It would explain her reluctance to turn them in, Ben thought.
“He’s…” In time she stopped herself from revealing too much. Shane was right, Nicholas was clever, but she couldn’t let herself be manipulated by him. Her daughter’s life could depend on it. “I’ve already told you too much.”
“You haven’t told me one thing that’s useful,” he said on a note of frustration. “If you really don’t want to be involved, you could help me get a message back to the castle.”
Part of her longed to do as he asked. Was it because she was really a lackey of royalty as Shane suggested, or because there was something warm and compassionate in Nicholas’s eyes that she responded to instinctively? Either way, she couldn’t risk Molly’s safety, not even for him. “I can’t,” she denied. “The last time I tried to do something, I paid for it dearly.”
She saw his gaze reflect sudden comprehension. “You were the one who called the palace anonymously, with the news that the king is still alive, weren’t you?”
She shook her head. “Whoever it was, it wasn’t me.”
He didn’t believe her, she saw from his skeptical look. “But he is still alive?”
“Yes, but he’s ill, so they needed you, although I’m not sure why. I don’t know where he’s being held. No
t here,” she added quickly. “They didn’t want the two of you in the same place.”
“Too easy to stage a rescue,” he concluded. “It’s what I’d do if the tables were turned.”
She couldn’t imagine him holding anyone against their will, and wondered how she could be so sure. She only knew she was. “If you’ve had enough to eat and drink, I have to go,” she said, suddenly anxious to put as much distance between them as she could.
He shifted in apparent discomfort, an expression of pain invading his face. “Could you at least untie me for a few minutes? My shoulders are killing me.”
“In a while. My brother will be going out to a meeting,” she said.
“Then I’ll have to try to be patient,” he said. “Just don’t stay away too long. I might get hungry again.”
His tone suggested that he didn’t mean for food, and she felt her face heat. Telling herself that he was only trying to gain her confidence didn’t help. “Next time, one of the men can come and feed you.”
“Pity. I was starting to enjoy that perfume you wear.”
“I bought it to celebrate getting the commission to design the dresses for an entire wedding party, not to please you,” she stated, sounding put out.
His eyes lit with interest. “You’re a designer?”
“A dressmaker. Nothing as fancy as a designer.”
“You made the furnishings in this room?”
She felt her color deepen, although she hated him to think she cared whether or not he noticed. “Yes, although they’re probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”
“I live a lot more modestly than you think,” he said. “But I’d wager that you’re as good with a needle as any court decorator I’ve ever seen.”
“I sincerely doubt it, but thank you for the compliment, Your Highness.”
“It’s not a compliment, it’s a statement of fact,” he growled. “A compliment is when I tell you that your hair reminds me of spun sunshine, and that your eyes are the color of lapis lazuli.”
If he had expected to please her, he was mistaken. “That’s no way for a married man to talk,” she snapped. “You’re making me wonder if the magazines portray you accurately.”
“How do they portray me?” he asked, curious in spite of himself.
“You must have read some of the stories.”
He shook his head. “I read as little about myself as I can.”
“Then it isn’t up to me to feed your ego,” she snapped. “As the heir and now the prince regent, I’m sure you get more compliments than are good for one person.”
Ben looked annoyed. “Obviously you intend to be the exception.”
“I’m sorry if it’s not what you’re accustomed to. I wasn’t brought up with courtly manners. I’d be more at home with that cousin of yours, the one who’s supposed to resemble you.”
“Ben Lockhart,” the prince supplied.
“That’s right. From what I’ve read, he has the best of both worlds, a royal background, and the freedom to live his life his way.”
“So you think Ben would be more attractive than me?”
“At least he isn’t married.” Snatching up the plate and empty beer bottle, she almost ran from the room, wondering why she felt an overpowering need to escape. Nicholas was the prisoner here, not she. Yet with his charming manner and honeyed words, she felt as if he had somehow captured a part of her soul.
Shane’s associates weren’t the only threat to her, she realized with a frisson of alarm. In his way, the acting king was an even greater danger to her peace of mind. As long as Nicholas remained under her roof, she would have to be on her guard against him.
Once before, she had allowed a man to sweet-talk his way into her life with promises of forever. Molly had been the result. Meagan knew she wouldn’t trade her daughter for all the riches in the kingdom, but she wasn’t about to fall under any man’s spell again, especially one who was married with a baby daughter. With him, forever would be even briefer than it had been with Molly’s father.
It didn’t stop Nicholas’s words from haunting her as she went about her chores. Or prevent her spirits from taking an upward leap when Shane jammed his cap onto his head and announced that he was going out. Dave was on call if she needed him, her brother told her. He didn’t add that the people patrolling the forest would stop her doing anything foolish like trying to help Nicholas escape, although she got the message. But for now, she and Nicholas were alone in the house.
Chapter Three
By now Ben had worked out the best way to free himself if he wanted to, although he had to give full credit to whoever had tied him up. It was a professional job, but no match for a navy lieutenant. In the service he’d won many a bet untying knots, although not usually when they were around his wrists. Even so, these should be a breeze, he thought, hoping he wasn’t being overly optimistic.
Satisfied, he left the ropes alone, although the growing numbness in his arms tempted him to do otherwise. He was likely to learn more by continuing to work at winning Meagan’s confidence then getting her to untie him. She had said she didn’t know where the king was being held, but she might know more than she realized.
Thinking of Meagan, he frowned. She had admitted she was being forced into helping the conspirators to protect her three-year-old child. By using her, would Ben put the child in jeopardy himself? He didn’t like the thought, any more than he liked taking advantage of the obvious attraction he had felt vibrating between him and Meagan at first sight.
It was pure chemistry, he told himself. He felt sorry for her situation, but he wasn’t going to let any woman capture his heart ever again, no matter how attractive she was. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her, but he also couldn’t deny that she came from a family that liked living on the edge. She had admitted that her brother was up to his neck in this conspiracy.
Meagan reminded him too much of Marina, Ben thought, expecting to feel the familiar gut-wrenching sorrow. To his amazement, all that came was a dull sadness, as if the anguish of his fiancée’s death was finally starting to dim. Maybe he should expect it by now. Or maybe a golden-haired Cinderella had distracted him sufficiently to drown out the painful memories.
He braced himself as the door opened, relaxing when he saw that it was Meagan. She carried a carafe of water. Again he was intrigued by her graceful movements, as if she were acting to music only she could hear.
“My brother’s gone to his meeting, Your Highness,” she said.
He watched her pour water into the glass on the dresser. “So we’re alone now?”
Some of the water spilled onto the dresser. Good. He wasn’t the only one feeling the air vibrate between them.
She took a child’s towel out of a drawer and mopped up the spill, then turned to him, clutching the towel like a security blanket. “There’s no one else in the house, but Shane has people patrolling the garden and the woods.”
“So there’s no reason not to untie me.”
“How do I know you won’t try to escape?”
“Isn’t the word of your crown prince good enough for you?”
She didn’t seem to notice that he hadn’t exactly given it. “I suppose so. But you must let me tie you up again before Shane returns. And stay away from the window. I dare not let the others find out I’ve released you.”
He fixed her with a dazzling smile. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your friends.”
“They’re not my friends.” She put the towel down and perched on the edge of the bed, leaning across him as she started to work on the ropes. He could have undone them in half the time, but it was undeniably more pleasant lying there with her delicate body pressed against him, basking in her delicious rose scent. “You’re not at all what I expected royalty to be like,” she observed.
His breathing had shallowed, and he felt his heart gather speed as he asked, “What did you expect?”
“Arrogance, perhaps. Less consideration for your sub
jects.”
He wouldn’t have a lot of consideration for this subject if she didn’t hurry up, he thought. If she truly didn’t know what her closeness was doing to him, she must be more innocent than she gave herself credit for. “The royal family’s position is one of service to the people of Edenbourg. It doesn’t leave much room for arrogance.”
She caught her full lower lip between ivory teeth. “That’s not what Shane says. According to his group the royal family are parasites, sucking the people dry.”
Finally freed, Ben pulled his hands down, grimacing as the blood flowed painfully into his arms and hands. He flexed them, wishing he could exercise them more gainfully, say by putting them around her. “What do you think?”
She lowered long lashes over her eyes, as if afraid of revealing too much. “I don’t agree with them.”
He found the admission more pleasing than he had any business doing, and made himself remember his objective. “Tell me more about these friends of your brother’s.”
She stood up, shaking her head. “It’s more than Molly’s life is worth.”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and took her hands, fascinated to see how small they were in his large ones. He felt the calluses on her fingers and suppressed a frown. She had said her life was hard, so her hands would be workworn. He was surprised at how little he liked the thought. “You said your child is safe for now. I can make sure she stays that way.”
Her huge eyes flooded and she blinked hard. “If you only could…”
“Trust me.”
“Your Highness, I’d like to, but…”
He guessed the rest. “Someone else taught you the folly of trusting too much. Who was he, Meagan?”
She shot him a startled look, reminding him of a fawn he’d photographed once in the royal forest. “How do you know it was a man?”
He released a sigh. “It invariably is.”