When Passion Rules

by Johanna Lindsey

  He raised a brow at her accusing tone. “Anything else you want to get off that pretty chest of yours before we eat?”

  He made it sound as if she had no cause to be outraged. “Yes. I know who you are. You’re that uncouth lout from the mountain pass!”

  “So? Why are you bristling over that? Ah, because you were the one I tapped on the arse, eh?” He started laughing. “The snow was so thick, I wasn’t sure.”

  She blushed furiously, which made him laugh all the more. Had she thought he would apologize for his behavior that day? More fool her. He obviously had no shame whatsoever over such coarseness. But at least he didn’t have to waste time looking for the leader of those men when he was that leader, which meant he already knew who had stolen her jewelry.

  “You were gone long enough to confront that thief who stole my bracelet. Did you?”

  “He says you lie.”

  “He’s lying!”

  “That’s a stalemate—for the moment. But we stopped at his village on the way back to the city that day, so he could have stashed your baubles at his family’s cottage there. Men will be leaving in the morning to investigate.”

  That was something at least. Actually, that was much more than she’d counted on, after his skeptical reaction to her accusation.

  She was on the brink of thinking he could still be an ally when he added, “Anything else you want to get off that pretty chest? My clothes perhaps?”

  Back came the blush. But the way he was watching her, she got the feeling he was testing her somehow. Was he deliberately trying to offend her? Was he trying to provoke her into saying something she shouldn’t? How naive she’d been to think she could maintain control over her emotions in a situation like this. But she could do better.

  Her tone was only a little stiff when she said, “I would like to know why you have closed your mind to the fact that I’m Alana Stindal.”

  “I haven’t formed an opinion yet.”

  “Yes, you have. I’m going to be absolutely truthful with you. Give me the same courtesy. You would not have put me in a prison cell if you hadn’t dismissed my claim without reservation. Why? Just because others have come before me? Was one believed to be me? Is that who was buried here when I was seven?”

  He ignored her questions and said, “Sit down, Alana. Eat your soup while it is still hot.”

  “Good Lord, you sound like you’re talking to a child,” she said incredulously.

  “How old are you?”

  “You know very well I turned eighteen this year. I am old enough to marry, old enough to bear children, old enough to assume my rightful place—here.”

  He smiled, reminding her, “I thought you said you didn’t want to stay here?”

  Tired of his questions and his attempts to twist her words, she sighed and marched to the table and took the seat she preferred, the one opposite him. She reached across for the bowl that had been set at the place next to his and put it in front of herself.

  “If I can manage to have a brief visit with my father, which is all I want, I will convince him this is not the life for me. Poppie thinks I must stay here. I don’t.”

  “A good subject to get back to, your Poppie. And in addition to wanting to learn more about him, such as his real name, I’d like to know if the little boy and the coachman are involved in your scheme.”

  Her chin rose a notch. “I don’t think so, not until you answer me.”

  He could have insisted. She was amazed he didn’t after the earlier browbeating he’d given her. But instead, in an almost condescending tone, he said, “Eat, then perhaps I will.”

  If she weren’t so hungry, she wouldn’t have picked up the spoon. But before she touched her soup, she reached over and switched her bowl with his. He laughed. She didn’t care. At least he wasn’t trying to starve information out of her.

  Before long, Boris brought in the main course, two large, flaky meat pies. She couldn’t identify the meat, which tasted slightly gamy and was seasoned with spices.

  “Goat?” she guessed.

  “You’ve had it before?”

  “No, but I was told that goatherding is one of the major businesses here. It’s not your only source of meat, is it?”

  “Centuries ago it was, but, no, not any longer. And what do I call you? That is, what name were you raised with?”

  “I suppose Poppie couldn’t bring himself to change my first name. It’s always been Alana.”

  She took a few more bites of the delicious pie, hoping it would get the blush off her cheeks. He’d just slipped in that question and she’d answered without even thinking about it! She was going to have to be more careful.

  No wine had been served with the meal, for either of them. Was that customary for him, or by his order just for tonight? Was he afraid to cloud his thoughts with even a single glass? If she weren’t still upset over what he’d done, she might smirk over that thought.

  She finally asked, “Are you testing my patience?”

  “Not at all. Just trying not to spoil your appetite.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that and put her fork down. “Like you just did?”

  He laughed. “You do make a worthy adversary, but we have not reached that point yet. I will try to keep an open mind and not judge you out of hand. But your tension is obvious and not helping this discussion. Might I make a suggestion?”

  Oh, God, the sensuality was back in his eyes, in the sudden soft turn of his lips. She didn’t dare ask what the captain had in mind to relieve her tension.

  “What?” she heard herself asking anyway.

  “If we adjourn to my room and spend some time in my bed, it would—”

  She gasped. “That doesn’t bear answering!”

  He shrugged, but then he actually grinned at her. “You’re sure, Alana?”

  What was he doing? Using seduction now to get her to admit what he thought was the truth? If he was, he certainly wasn’t being subtle about it! But could it work? She’d lost her will to him earlier. She’d been dazzled into a thoughtless state. She was out of her depth when it came to the feelings this man could arouse in her. She didn’t know and didn’t want to find out if powerful feelings like that could be used against her.

  She blushed just remembering the kisses she’d shared with him, so it was difficult, but necessary, to remind him, “What happened earlier between us was a mistake. Please don’t allude to it again.”

  “You liked being in my arms.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “Liar.” He chuckled. “What happened to your being absolutely honest, eh?”

  Her blush escalated, but having been called on the carpet as it were, she couldn’t keep this particular truth from him. “You are trespassing on a female prerogative now, which is not relevant to this discussion.”

  All he did was grin, but the passion in his eyes was hot enough to burn.

  Desperately she glanced down at the table. “Besides,” she managed to add, “I wasn’t tense when I came in here, I was angry. There’s a difference.”

  “Your fear goes away and anger takes its place? Do you somehow think you are no longer a prisoner because I am sharing my meal with you?”

  That fear he’d just mentioned might have returned if she didn’t hear his sigh. She kept her eyes averted, and he said nothing else for several long minutes.

  “So which question was I remiss in answering for you?” he finally said.

  She relaxed when she heard his calm, professional tone. He was behaving like the captain of the palace guard, not like a seductive rogue.

  She was able to match his calm now. “We both know you never would have locked me up unless you’d truly ruled out the possibility that I am Frederick’s daughter. After everything I’ve told you, how can you still be so firm in your disbelief?”

  She had to look up to gauge his reaction. He seemed to be hesitating to say anything at all, but then his eyes abruptly narrowed.

  “You don’t realize the seriousness
of what you did. We don’t look kindly upon anyone who enters the palace with weapons when we are very much aware that there are people who want to harm our king.”

  “You can’t really be accusing me of being an assassin!” she said incredulously.

  “I didn’t say that. Yet you haven’t explained to my satisfaction why you came here so heavily armed.”

  “I did explain. The pistols were my first defense, the daggers a last resort, but all of them were for my own protection and nothing else. But that doesn’t negate your suspicions, does it?”

  “I’ve told you I will keep an open mind.”

  She nodded, though she didn’t believe him one bit. He was too quick to accuse her of other reasons for being there and was flatly discounting the real reason.

  Exasperated, she nodded to the rapiers on the wall. “I know how to use those. Would you like a demonstration?”

  He burst out laughing. “You want to prove you’re an assassin?”

  “I believe it would prove I’m not, because that’s not a weapon an assassin would use, is it? Sword fighting is as much about self-defense as it is about offense.”

  He was still smiling when he said, “You appear to have an answer for everything, revealing how quick-witted you are. An excellent memory would go hand in hand with the intelligence you reveal with your every word.”

  She tsked. “So I am part of some elaborate plot and have memorized my lines well? Is that what you really think?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. His humor was gone, and the intensity in his blue eyes was unnerving her again. But she recognized this wasn’t passion, this was suspicion. She had to resist the urge to glance away from him.

  He finally said, “I apologize.”

  For his amusement? Or for his pouncing on anything that might support his false conclusions?

  She decided to be blunt. “I was central to a plot, but my role in it was to die. Poppie foiled that plot by removing me from it.”

  “What turned a murder into an abduction instead?”

  “I smiled at him. Very sentimental I know, but from that moment on, he became my protector. And I owe him my life. Had someone else been sent to kill me, I would be dead.” Because the captain was being somewhat cordial again, she also answered his earlier question. “You asked about my other traveling companions. We hired coaches as we crossed Europe, the drivers came with them. The boy, Henry, is an orphan whom Poppie and I are very fond of. There’s no scheme, as you put it. We thought it best not to even tell Henry who I really am.”

  “And your guardian’s real name?”

  “I gave you his name, it’s the name he used all of our years in England, even the name I thought was mine until he told me about my father.”

  “You call this being truthful? Farmer is not a Lubinian name.”

  “I call it protecting a man who is like a father to me—from you. You don’t need him when you have me.”

  He stared at her for a long moment before he said, “I do have you, don’t I?”

  He sat back in his chair. His expression didn’t reveal if he believed anything she’d said. She really wished he wasn’t so strong-willed and carefully guarded. That last remark made her feel distinctly uneasy.

  “Boris,” he called suddenly.

  The servant appeared so quickly, it was obvious he’d been waiting in the hallway—and listening to their every word. And the captain knew that or else he would have shouted the summons.

  Alana hadn’t wanted anyone else to hear her tale. She was furious that he had allowed someone else to eavesdrop.

  “Any dessert tonight?” Christoph asked the servant as Boris picked up the empty plates from the table.

  “Sweet or sour?” Boris paused to ask.

  “We still have lemons?”

  “Sweet, if there’s a choice,” Alana interjected.

  The captain nodded. She waited until Boris left the room to ask, “Do you trust him?”

  “Boris? His parents were born on my family’s estate, as was he. We grew up together. Despite the difference in our social standing, he is a friend.”

  “Then why did you hit him today?”

  “He’s not stupid. The mistake he made was out of good intentions, but an error that would devastate him with guilt. If I hadn’t hit him, he would have walked into my fist. Trust him? I do not hesitate to say, with my life.”

  That was well and good for him, but not for her. “Please warn me the next time someone else is going to be present at your interrogations. What I have to say is for your ears only—and my father’s.”

  “You are here to reveal everything, not to keep your visit secret.”

  “No, I’m here to reveal everything to my father and prevent a war, not make my presence known before then,” she said in frustration. “Until I actually have the king’s protection, the more people who know I’m here, the greater the risk I face. You do concede this would put me in great danger?”

  “I concede that whatever you say will remain behind these doors.”

  “Why can’t you just ask my father to come see me? Put me back in that cell, defenseless, unable to touch him, but bring him here to meet me!”

  “Do you come to this country thinking we are fools?” he snarled.

  Chapter Nineteen

  SHE SUCKED IN HER breath. She’d made him angry again. How? She felt tears coming on. Oh, God, she’d never forgive herself if she let him defeat her with her own emotions simply because he was so intimidating when he looked like this.

  “Answer me!”

  “Not if you’re going to shout at me!” She had shot to her feet, getting ready to run if he moved toward her.

  But he didn’t stand up; in fact, she’d definitely given him pause. He leaned back and studied her face for a long moment. He finally sighed before he said, “Against my better judgment, I’m going to tell you a simple fact. While you’re here, you are protected—even from me. Nonetheless, it’s not wise to provoke my anger.”

  She almost fell back into her chair, she was so relieved. No, he probably shouldn’t have told her that. She could handle all of her emotions except the one he’d just inspired that was so foreign to her. If she didn’t have to fear him, she didn’t have to be so guarded, so she could speak more freely. She did that now.

  “I came to this country thinking it’s so barbaric, it might as well be in the Middle Ages. You have reinforced that opinion three times today,” she complained.

  “Only three? I can do better than that.”

  Was he joking? No, he probably wasn’t. She lifted her chin. “You want the truth, don’t be insulted by it. But I didn’t call you a fool, you did. And why did you even make that statement?”

  “You were resorting to feminine wiles, pleading for me to bring the king to you, appealing to my sympathies because I want you. Do you really think I take my job so lightly that I would ignore my responsibility for a pretty face?”

  It registered. He still wanted her, even thinking the worst of her? She took it back; fear wasn’t the only emotion with which he could destroy her composure.

  She immediately denied, “I did nothing of the sort. Is the king so busy he can’t spare a few moments to have a look at me? What if he recognizes me? What if he instinctively knows me? I was merely asking you to be reasonable.”

  “There is nothing reasonable about putting you in the same room with His Highness—at this point.”

  “For the record, the tactics you described wouldn’t have occurred to me. And considering your suspicions, I even agree with you.” She sighed. “I must be too tired, to have even mentioned it again. If there is no dessert forthcoming, perhaps you can show me to a room and we can resume this discussion tomorrow?”

  “It’s early,” he said.

  “I have been depleted, drained of my energy today. Perhaps that was not your intention, but it is nonetheless so.”

  “You don’t really think I would give up the advantage of questioning you when you are tired,
do you?”

  She raised a brow. “So we are going to continue this interrogation all night? Very well, but when I fall asleep in this chair is when we are done. Wake me all you want, but I will say no more.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her warning other than to call out, “Boris, what is keeping you?”

  It took another half minute for the servant to rush into the room with two bowls sloppily filled with something creamy. “Apologies, my lord. Franz could not make up his mind.” Then, in a whisper: “I think he wanted to impress your pretty guest.”

  “She’s not a guest. Warn him not to be so foolish again.” Christoph waved the servant away.

  Alana had the thought that the captain had said that for himself, not his cook. But he was going to allow her to eat the dessert in peace. Vanilla, she tasted, but another flavor she didn’t recognize.

  “Anise, from the southeast,” he said, as if reading her mind.

  She nodded her thanks. “London gets a wealth of spices; I just never spent enough time in the kitchen to learn the names. But I don’t think our cook ever experimented with that one.”

  Before she set the bowl aside, she couldn’t resist running her finger along the inside of it to get the last few drops. Sticking the finger in her mouth, she froze as she caught the captain staring in fascination at what she was doing. She immediately reached for the small, wet towel Boris had left beside her and wiped off the last of the cream instead.

  “Please pardon that breach of good manners. I’m partial to sweets,” she explained. “Do not accuse me of anything else.”

  “I wasn’t going to. I did the same thing when I was a child. Now I just ask for another helping. Would you like more?”

  “No, the meal was quite filling. But thank you for offering.”

  He nodded, even smiled. He was being too cordial again. To make up for that brief bout of anger? If he wanted to make amends, she would much prefer he answer a few questions of her own.

  “Exactly how many attempts have been made on my father’s life?” she asked. “Is this new plot with the rebels just an extension of the one in which I was supposed to be eliminated? Is it contrived by the same people?”