by Valerie Parv
Another shot rang out from the rear of the house, and Ben set himself to move. “I’m going in.”
“Not without me.” She struggled to her feet, biting her lip as pain radiated through her from her damaged ankle.
This time she couldn’t conceal it from him. He ground out an oath and thrust her back into the shelter of the hedge. “You’re not going anywhere. You can barely stand.”
His attitude fired her anger. “A damaged ankle won’t stop me from doing my part.”
“But I will. You’ll stay here voluntarily, or I’ll handcuff you to this tree for your own good. Your choice.”
She knew he carried handcuffs as part of the arsenal he’d gathered for the mission, and didn’t doubt that he meant what he said. She subsided, fuming. “I’ll stay here.”
He claimed her mouth in a lightning kiss that tore through her like flame, before he zigzagged across the front courtyard. She saw him shoulder-roll to the door, then spring to his feet and break the door down with a well-aimed kick. He flung himself inside.
Shouts and shots assaulted her ears, then silence.
Was Ben all right? Every fiber of her being refused to accept that that kiss could be his last earthly experience. She knew he had only kissed her as an alternative to handcuffing her, to ensure she followed his orders, but it didn’t change the effect on her.
Unable to stay still a moment longer, she made herself count to twenty then limped around the perimeter of the courtyard until she could peer inside. Her heart slammed against her chest as she saw black-clad male legs sprawled in a doorway.
“Great oceans, not Ben. Please, not Ben.” On legs that felt mired in molasses she forced herself to take a painful step inside, clinging to the wall to take the weight off her protesting ankle.
Before she had taken more than two steps, she was caught in strong arms and carried out into the courtyard. She fought and clawed. She had to see, to know. If Ben was dead, she knew her world would never be the same again.
The arms held her, refusing to yield. “It’s all right, everything’s all right.”
The world spun around her. “Ben, you’re not dead.”
“Obviously not.”
She struggled to free herself, to see. “Then who…”
His hold tightened. “You’re not to go in there. It’s Shane.”
The next day, lying on a chaise in the vast apartment the queen had allocated for her use, Meagan felt more alone than ever. In truth she was alone. Her brother, her last surviving relative, apart from Molly, was dead, killed by Luke Stanbury when he had seen Shane take aim at Princess Isabel. Unlike his brother, Jake, who Ben had said was no longer under suspicion, Luke hadn’t been included in the original team. Ben had told Meagan that Luke had invited himself along after his father told him what was planned. For Isabel’s sake, it was as well he had, Meagan thought.
When they returned to the castle, Edward had hailed his son as a hero for saving the princess’s life. It was the first time Meagan had seen Edward, and she was alarmed at how frail he looked, the strain of his sudden elevation to the throne telling on him.
She noted that Edward was the only one lauding his son’s bravery. Meagan had heard Isabel and Adam pondering aloud whether Luke’s act was as heroic as it seemed, or if he had invited himself along in order to silence a fellow conspirator. From Ben, Meagan knew that rumors were flying around the castle over the king’s disappearance. It was hard to credit that the informant within the castle could be any of the royal family she had met so far. They seemed united in their determination to see King Michael safely restored to the throne.
She knew beyond a doubt that Ben was incapable of treachery. He had endangered himself by impersonating Prince Nicholas, and had put his life on the line again to try to capture Shane and his partner. Dave had also died in the skirmish. Ben had told her that one of the security men had killed him when the giant turned a gun on the team.
She remembered how Ben had helped her back to her suite last night after the doctor had checked her X rays and instructed her to rest her ankle.
Ben had lingered, sensing that she needed the company, although she hadn’t known how to answer when he asked, “Are you all right?”
She had answered truthfully. “I don’t know.”
“It’s too bad we didn’t get a chance to question Shane,” Ben had said, “but Luke assured us there was nothing else he could do.” He rammed a fist into his palm. “We’ve reached a dead-end.”
“Perhaps not.” She had limped to a writing desk under the window and retrieved a sheet of paper she’d started working on before the raid. She still didn’t know why she’d felt the need to do it, but now she was glad she had. “I’ve made you a list of as many of Shane’s friends and contacts as I can remember. One of them might provide a new lead.”
Ben accepted the paper, frowning. “Why didn’t you think of this sooner?”
She looked down. “I thought you’d get the information from Shane himself.”
“And you feared what he could do to Molly if he knew you’d informed on him,” Ben guessed. “You’re safe from him now.”
“But not from his friends.”
Ben’s hand had covered hers. “To get to you, they’ll have to go through me first. We’ll give this list to Isabel. She and Adam Sinclair will put it to good use.”
The touch of his hand sent tremors radiating through her. Telling herself she was only feeling the aftereffects of the raid didn’t entirely satisfy her.
By the time Meagan had been seen by the doctor, one of the royal attendants had bathed and fed Molly, which was just as well because Meagan had no idea how she would have managed it. For her child’s sake, she contained her feelings while she read Molly a bedtime story and listened to the child’s account of her day. Molly had been alarmed at the sight of the bandage on Meagan’s ankle, until Ben had spun the child a convincing tale about her mummy catching her foot in a rabbit hole in the garden. Now Molly couldn’t wait to see the rabbit.
Meagan felt a wan smile tug at her mouth. Her daughter hadn’t stopped talking about the wonders of the castle, from the pretty flower gardens to the swing she’d been allowed to play on, and the swans Uncle Ben had promised to let her feed.
So it was Uncle Ben already. “Did he say you could call him that?” she had asked Molly after Ben had said good-night to the little girl.
The child’s head had bobbed. “When we feed the baby swans, he’s says I can name one. I’m calling him Strawbie.”
“If it’s a girl swan, shouldn’t she be Raggedy-May?”
Molly had giggled. “Uncle Ben said that, too. He says lots of things like you do.” Sitting up in bed, she had adopted a disturbingly familiar posture as she recited, “Don’t touch that. Hold on to the railing on the stairs. Wash your hands.” She’d taken a deep breath.
“Is he a daddy?”
“Not at the moment,” Meagan had said carefully. If she married him, he would be Molly’s daddy. Meagan thrust the thought aside. She had agreed to marry Ben to ensure Molly’s safety. With Shane gone, the danger had lessened, and with it Meagan’s certainty that she was doing the right thing.
Molly had allowed herself to be tucked into bed. She had drifted off to sleep halfway through the story, leaving Meagan to deal with her troubled thoughts.
Now Molly was with Ben, feeding bread to the swans at the lake. Meagan would have liked to join them. Being left alone gave her too much time to think.
Shane had died last night, yet her first thought had been relief that it wasn’t Ben. What kind of person did that make her? Shane had chosen his course freely knowing where it might lead, she told herself. Now she had to choose her own.
By the time Ben brought Molly back, Meagan’s mind was made up. She and Molly would leave the castle as soon as Meagan could arrange it. Last night had shown her how deeply she had come to care for Ben. She couldn’t contemplate marrying him, knowing he didn’t feel the same.
“Swan babies
have stripes,” Molly announced, sounding impressed. “I wanted to hold one, but Uncle Ben said their mummy would get cross.”
Meagan avoided meeting Ben’s gaze. “I’m sure she would. Are you hungry?”
“The cook has lunch ready for her,” Ben said. He signaled for the attendant. She curtsied to Meagan although she’d been told that it wasn’t expected, and led Molly away by the hand.
“I’ve decided it’s time for Molly and me to leave,” Meagan said as matter-of-factly as she could.
“The doctor advised you to rest.”
“I can rest at home.”
“You can’t want to return to that house?”
She wasn’t looking forward to it, afraid she would imagine Shane’s body on the floor whenever she passed that spot. But Isabel had assured her that Adam’s people would erase all traces of the raid. “We can’t stay here indefinitely.”
“As my fiancée, you can stay as long as you choose. The queen will be disappointed, of course. She is expecting a wedding.”
What about Ben himself? Meagan wondered. His cold, distant tone almost broke her heart. She waited for him to say he wanted her to stay, but it didn’t happen.
“Even if you hadn’t been injured in the service of the king, it isn’t safe for you to return until the rest of the conspirators are caught. They could blame you for letting ‘Prince Nicholas’ escape, as well as for the loss of their comrades,” Ben reasoned.
She lowered her lashes over troubled eyes. “They’d be right. Some of the responsibility is mine.”
“Not as much as you’re trying to take. Can’t you let go and let me take care of you?”
She felt her eyes mist, wanting to give in so much she could taste it. She had taken care of herself and her child for so long that she felt bone-weary. Some of the effect came from Shane’s death and her injury, she knew, but the rest was cumulative, maybe going all the way back to when her secure world was torn asunder after her parents had drowned. She’d never really felt safe since then. Now old wounds she’d thought were long healed threatened to open up.
If she gave in to Ben now, she might never summon the strength to shoulder her burdens again. With no one else to turn to, how could she take the risk? “I can’t,” she said with a decisive shake of her head.
“Because you’re afraid it will be too hard to start again afterward?” he said.
Tears welled up but she blinked them away angrily. “Of course not.”
“You’re not the only one who has had to pick themselves up and go on after losing someone you cared about.”
“Mike Stafford told me about your fiancée.”
Ben’s bladed hand slashed the air. “Did he also tell you that her death was my fault?”
“Apparently you believe so. Mike doesn’t agree.”
“Mike didn’t make the decision that got her killed. Marina was a pilot in my squadron, daughter of an admiral who admitted he would have preferred a son. She wanted to prove she could do anything a man could do. When I dropped her from a dangerous mission because she wasn’t ready, she changed places with another pilot. An inquiry established that she’d misjudged her distance from the ground and lost control. She could have bailed out, but she waited till her navigator got out. In the end, she waited too long. She died three days before our wedding date.”
“You can’t blame yourself for her recklessness. We all have to face the consequences of our actions. Marina did. Shane did. I’m not immune.”
“You think I’m wrong to want to protect you from harm?”
“Protect, but not smother.”
“Yesterday you came within a hairbreadth of getting yourself killed.”
“But I survived. I need breathing space, Ben, everyone does.” She also needed his love, but nothing would come of saying so.
“At least stay until your ankle improves. After that, if you still want to leave, I won’t try to stop you.”
He hadn’t asked her to stay for his sake, she noticed. Maybe she was right, and he was regretting his proposal. “Very well, I’ll stay for now. But what about your injuries? You didn’t exactly get off unscathed.”
She had heard the doctor warn Ben that he had done more damage to his half-healed ribs. It must have happened when he broke into the house, she thought. He had shrugged off the doctor’s concern, but the whiteness around his eyes and the care with which he moved wasn’t lost on her. He was suffering too, but refused to give in to it.
That made two of them, she thought. By now she knew better than to offer him sympathy he didn’t welcome. “How are the others?” she asked instead.
“Isabel and Adam have their heads together planning strategy,” he informed her. “My cousin should have been born to a warrior tribe instead of a royal family.”
Meagan nodded. “She seems to thrive on action.”
He grimaced. “She’s never forgiven me for advising the king to bring her home from the navy when she wanted to extend her tour of duty.”
“You advised him? Ben, how could you?”
“She’s a princess, her place is here.”
“You refuse to live here and be hidebound by protocol.”
“It’s different for Isabel.”
Meagan felt her blood heat. “Because she’s a woman? Or because you don’t want to lose another woman the way you lost your fiancée?”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters because it’s affecting how you treat women now.” How he treated her now, Meagan acknowledged. That was really at the heart of her anger. “This may be a tenth-century castle, but the people living in it belong to this century and it’s time you accepted it.”
He loomed over her, his eyes blazing. “Have you quite finished?”
Would she ever be entirely finished with him? she wondered. In a short time he had made a devastating impact on her peace of mind. She tried to blame it on the unusual situation. They had been thrown together in a crisis and it was bound to create an artificial closeness. It wasn’t real, she assured herself.
Her response had nothing to do with his impact on her as a woman. Was that why she resisted his concern? Because she didn’t want to feel so infuriatingly female around him? No way was she admitting that, even to herself. “It’s enough for now,” she said in a betrayingly husky voice.
He heard it, too. “I should hope so. I came to check on you, not to start an argument.”
“It seems to be all we are able to start.” And a good thing, too, she thought unconvincingly. She wasn’t about to surrender control of her life to anyone, least of all a man who thought a woman’s place was in his castle.
“It does, doesn’t it?” He dropped to the chaise, carefully avoiding contact with her bandaged ankle, and took her hands. “When we’re together, I find myself wanting to do one of two things. The first is argue with you.”
With her hands caught in his, she could hardly breathe. “And the second?”
“This.” He slid his hands around her shoulders, gathering her against the hard wall of his chest. She gasped as his lips touched her hair, then her brow, then skimmed the side of her face. She felt the erratic rhythm of his heart against her own. When his mouth reached hers, the familiarity of his kiss sent shock waves through her. Warm, demanding, giving sensations she was coming to know too well, want too much. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from returning his kiss.
She wasn’t an innocent, but Ben made her feel like one. Every erotic touch felt new and vibrant, every skim of his mouth over hers like a promise of something she had yearned for without knowing it.
She wanted to give him everything of herself she had to give. It would be a mistake, but she couldn’t keep the desire out of her responses. She wore only a light robe over a silky nightgown, and his hands slid under it, over the soft skin of her shoulders, kneading, warming, exciting. When he reached the swell of her breast, she dragged in lungfuls of air and still felt oxygen-starved. She dropped her head back, panting with the need for more air.
She struggled for control, but he took it away with every stroke of his sensitive fingertips over her heated skin. Pleasure warred with pain, desire with common sense. Pleasure and desire grew, until she was helpless in his arms. She shivered as he brought her to the brink of ecstasy, only to retreat again, prolonging the dizzying pleasure until she could hardly bear it.
Surrender. The word flamed in her mind, so insistently that the only possible answer was, “yes.” It hovered on her lips, clamoring to be said, to be heard. She wanted Ben’s possession more than she had ever wanted anything, so why fight it so strongly?
He sensed her resistance and lifted his head from her breast, his glazed eyes clearing slightly. “Am I hurting you?”
He was about to, she sensed. And she was as close to allowing it as she had ever been. “No,” she said, since it was the only word she could force past lips swollen with desire.
He looked confused then angry. “Just…no? You can’t deny that you want me as much as I want you.”
She lowered her lashes over misting eyes. He must see his effect on her. Especially now, when she was about to throw away a gift she knew might never come again. The thought almost broke her, but she lifted her head. “I thought I did, but I was wrong. I can’t marry you, Ben.”
“Because?”
“Must I give a reason?”
With furious moves, he tugged her nightgown and robe back into place and hurled himself away from her. “Yes, you do. If you’d turned me down when I first asked you, it would have made sense. I would have concluded you weren’t interested. But that’s not true, is it?”
She couldn’t meet his angry gaze. “You know it isn’t.”
“So you want me, and I want you. We’re both free agents.” His gaze suddenly intensified, fixing her until she felt like a rabbit in a hunter’s spotlight. “Aren’t we?”
He began to pace, bracing his damaged ribs with an arm across his chest. “After all that’s happened, I can’t believe you’re still loyal to Molly’s father.” Knowing she’d added to his pain, Meagan felt brutal, but dared not retract. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he said in the manner of thinking aloud. “Is he one of the conspirators? Great oceans, is all this part of some devious plan?”