The Duke’s Covert Mission

by Julie Miller

  But while her lips were quick learners, her hands darted across his chest in ignorance. She didn’t know where to put them. But Ellie was nothing if not observant.

  He had said to put her hands around his neck when he carried her. He’d wanted her close, to maintain his balance. Now she wanted to be close. She slid her hands up his chest and curled them behind his neck. As she lifted herself into his kiss, her breasts rubbed his chest. The hard resistance teased the aching tips into rapt attention. He moaned against her mouth and ground his hips against hers. She moaned in response as something warm like honey ruptured inside her and spilled into her veins.

  “Cade?” she breathed, panicked by her body’s urgent reaction to his. He shifted his hold on her, slipping his hands up beneath her shirt, searing her back with needy caresses that were more arousing than rough. He pulled her body flush against his, encouraging her to discover and enjoy the aching rapture of two bodies embraced like one.

  “Open for me.”

  Ellie obliged. Cade’s tongue thrust in, stamping her with male possession, clueing her in to her female power over him.

  Self-consciousness vanished, leaving her to absorb her body’s glorious new discoveries of desire.

  She’d been kissed before—once by Robert Porter in the seventh grade. It had been her first, a perfunctory smack on the lips. Then there was the time she’d gone home on holiday from university and run into one of the ranch hands in the shearing barn. Hap Worth had been his name. Worthless was more like it. He was drunk; she was female. His leery, wet-mouthed sucking of her face had sent her running into the house for a hot shower.

  But she’d never been…kissed.

  Cade’s sweet seduction of her mouth—the worshipful praise of each corner and curve of her lips—this was a kiss. More thrilling than any fairy tale. More erotic than any romance novel she’d read. More intoxicating than any starry-eyed fantasy she could devise.

  And just when she thought she might explode at the next touch, the next sweep of his tongue, Cade lifted his mouth. He let her back down to earth slowly and gently, pulling his hands from her bare skin. He straightened the shirttail over her hips, then wrapped his arms loosely around her waist.

  Ellie settled back onto her heels and wedged her elbows between them, forcing enough space to allow the morning breeze to cool her hot skin.

  “There’s more, Ellie. There’s so much more.” He sifted a lock of her hair between his fingers, studying it for a moment before tucking it behind her ear. If she couldn’t hear the regret tainting the dark fog of his voice, she could feel it in the subtle withdrawal of his body from hers. She swallowed hard and braced herself for whatever cold thing he was about to say. “But the last thing in the world I want is to see an innocent like you get hurt.”

  She frowned at the apology in his words. He had kissed her, not at all like the villain she thought him to be, but the way she imagined a hero would. Before she could convince herself that she didn’t really have anything much to compare the embrace to, she seized onto that heroic image. “Then let me go. Cade, you’re a better man than this.”

  “A better man?” He shook his head. “Ellie, I just assaulted you.”

  “No. I wanted you to kiss me.” She admitted her frustrated curiosity with self-deprecating honesty. “I just didn’t know how to ask, and then I didn’t think you wanted to, and—” She clamped her mouth shut, sensing she was starting to babble like a schoolgirl. She steadied herself with a cleansing breath and tried to sound like the twenty-six-year-old woman she was. “Now I’m glad you did.”

  “You shouldn’t always tell the truth, Ellie. Revealing all your secrets puts you at a disadvantage.”

  He released her and turned away, plowing his fingers through his hair, spiking up the thick black waves into a surprisingly vulnerable-looking mess. Ellie crossed her arms in front of her and rubbed at the sudden chill that prickled the skin beneath her sleeves. She knew a foolish urge to straighten that hair for him, to offer some kind of comfort to offset the look in his eyes as he stared into the distance. Was that why Cade was so secretive? So he wouldn’t put himself at a disadvantage?

  His mouth curled down in a grim frown. “You shouldn’t get involved with a man like me.”

  “A man like what?” She circled around him and tugged at the front of his shirt “Part of you doesn’t want to kill me, or you wouldn’t waste time massaging cramps and seeing to my comfort. You wouldn’t have kissed me just now.” She tugged again, forcing those indigo eyes to meet hers. “You know you have the wrong woman. You wouldn’t have to tell the others. You could say I got away from you. That the fisherman helped me.”

  “You got away from me?”

  His incredulity bordered on insult. But Ellie was beyond feeling its sting. She’d beg if that was what it took to survive. “You know I’m not worth whatever you’re asking for. Let me go. I’m sure King Easton would take into consideration how you’ve protected me. I’d put in a good word for you. Even if you killed Paulo, I’m sure there’s some sort of leniency or plea bargain—”

  “I didn’t kill anyone.” He pried her fingers from his shirt. “But, princess or not, I can’t let you go.”

  Just like that, the kiss that had transformed her from a meek bookworm into a woman who finally understood words like passion and sexy and self-confidence was set aside.

  He put on his mask and unfastened his holster, slipping back into his role as her captor. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at her ribs, signaling her to walk in front of him. “Your Highness.”

  Resigned, Ellie gave up her attempt to reason with the remnants of the good man who resided inside this tall, dark and heartless killing machine. But she wasn’t quite ready to surrender her womanly curiosity. She might never understand men, but she wanted to understand herself. She needed to know if she had misread his participation in what had just happened between them, or if the sexual attraction that still hummed like a forbidden memory through her veins had touched him at all.

  She picked her way through the trees at a slow but steady pace, keeping herself a few inches ahead of the gun barrel trained at her back. “Why did you kiss me, Cade?”

  “Because I wanted to.” The matter-of-fact intonation in his pitched voice gave her no reason to celebrate. “And that’s the same reason why I’m taking you back.”

  “TEMPERS ARE GETTING pretty hot here.”

  Easton Carradigne paced to the far end of the study and pressed the cell phone closer to his ear. Though the line was secure, he knew his staff and advisors were waiting just outside the door. “Are you any closer to finding out who’s behind this?”

  “I’ve got a couple of leads, but I haven’t had a chance to follow up on them yet. We had a bit of an incident here. Smython twisted his ankle pretty badly.”

  Incident. Easton suspected his man was prone to under-statement. But if the situation had unraveled completely beyond his control, he’d have reported it.

  “When do you think you’ll know something?”

  “Soon.”

  “Our time is running out.”

  “I know.”

  Easton rubbed at his forehead, wishing Ellie was here to bring him an aspirin. Wishing she was here, period. “Can you keep her safe?”

  The pause at the other end of the line worried him. “I’ll bring her home, sir. When it’s time.”

  Easton shook his fist in the air, giving vent to the normal human frustrations he rarely showed as king. “Dammit! I want to know who is using the people I care about to hurt me.”

  “I’ll keep working on things from my end.”

  Marshaling his composure, Easton nodded. “As will I.”

  A quiet knock interrupted the terse conversation. The king turned as Harrison Montcalm opened the door. “Your Highness. You have company. It’s not…”

  Easton acknowledged him and returned to the phone. “I have to go. I’ll be expecting your call.”

  “Understood.”

  He fold
ed the phone, disconnecting the caller. He crossed to the mahogany desk and set the phone on the blotter.

  “Did I interrupt something important?”

  The breath whooshed out of Easton’s lungs at the sound of that falsely chipper voice. There was enough pomposity in the rich European accent to identify him as his grandson, Prince Markus, before ever turning around.

  “Sorry, sir.” Harrison apologized, then left the room at Easton’s dismissive wave. There was no easy way to deal with his grandson, but he’d never backed away from a task because it was difficult.

  “Markus.” Easton extended his hand in greeting, following protocol, if not his heart, at the moment. “This is a surprise.”

  Not necessarily a pleasant one. As king, he waited for the prince to approach him, though the younger man hesitated, as if he expected to be met halfway. The delay allowed Easton to note how the cut of his double-breasted jacket emphasized Markus’s growing gut. His self-indulgent paunch reminded Easton of a spoiled child—not an attractive characteristic for a thirty-five-year-old man.

  Markus shook hands and then added the flourish of an Old World greeting by kissing him once on each cheek. Too much style and not enough substance for Easton’s tastes. A primary reason for not naming Markus as his successor. The boy drank too much to be reliable and was too self-absorbed to take care of his country.

  Right now, Easton wasn’t in the mood to humor Markus and his latest whim. “I have business to attend to. This isn’t the best time for a social visit.”

  “Grandfather, you wound me.” Markus pressed both hands over his heart in melodramatic fashion. “I just heard about Cousin Lucia.”

  The news of the kidnapping had been kept strictly hush-hush, but Easton’s face revealed nothing of his surprise. “What have you heard about Lucia?”

  “That she turned you down.” Markus laughed. “That she’s chosen that soldier fellow over your offer to make her queen.”

  A subtle cough from the doorway punctuated the announcement, turning their attention to the solid, six foot tall “soldier fellow” who had been honored as knight, royal advisor and friend to king and kingdom. Easton silently applauded the deadly look Harrison sent Markus.

  “Remy Sandoval has arrived, sir. He’s downstairs.”

  “Thank you.”

  Harrison nodded, drilled Markus with a warning gaze, then left to usher in their guest.

  Markus unbuttoned his jacket and sat in one of the guest chairs at the desk, ignoring etiquette and making himself at home. “Well, that was embarrassing, wasn’t it?”

  Easton circled behind him, wondering if the boy might not really be Byrum’s child, or if there was some other way to excuse his misplaced senses of humor and duty. “Why are you here, Markus?”

  “I can’t pay my grandfather a visit?”

  “I’m a busy man. I have a country to run.”

  Markus spun in the chair to face him. Without his charming veneer, there was something almost sinister in his smile. And though Easton searched, he could find no spark of caring or conscience in his watery blue eyes.

  “I’m concerned about that country, too. Have you finished playing this game of meeting all the American cousins and leaving Korosol untended?”

  That accusation could not go unchallenged. “No one loves Korosol more than I.”

  Markus rose, his face flushed with emotion. “Then name your successor. It’s my rightful place to be the next king!”

  If he’d stamped his foot, the tantrum would have been complete. Easton grabbed the back of the chair and leaned on it for support. He didn’t know if age or illness or disappointment made him suddenly feel so weak.

  Would Markus be willing to do more than yell and whine to get what he wanted? Easton feared the sad truth might be yes.

  And it made his resolve to protect his country even stronger. He straightened with the kingly bearing that had rested on his shoulders for more than five decades.

  “Don’t ever raise your voice to me. I’ll name my heir when I am ready. Now, if you’ll excuse me, as I said, I have business to attend to.” He crossed to the door and opened it himself.

  Harrison and their guest were waiting outside. Markus took his time buttoning his jacket and following the king. He dropped his head in a curt bow. “Grandfather.”

  “Good day, Markus.”

  Remy Sandoval was a tall, lean man with dark eyes and thinning hair. He looked distinctly uncomfortable in the suit and tie he wore, and he surveyed the elegantly appointed study warily before following Easton to the desk. After formal greetings, he sat in the chair Markus had vacated.

  The former rebel leader and newly elected member of the Korosolan Parliament was as anxious to get down to business as the king. “I’m not used to being summoned in the middle of the night and flown across the ocean for a meeting. What’s going on?”

  Easton had weighed the decision of how much to share with Sandoval. Though they had differing political views, Easton did admire the man’s blunt nature. He’d decided the direct approach would serve best.

  He pulled a long, flat jewelry box from the desk drawer and set it on the blotter. Then he opened it.

  “Pretty baubles,” said Remy, revealing little interest.

  “Diamonds and rubies. As you can see, the silver filigree work on the necklace bears our country’s coat-of-arms.”

  “You brought me here to show me the crown jewels?”

  Easton closed the box. “Actually, my granddaughter Lucia designed it herself. She’s quite an artist.”

  “A national treasure, I’m sure.”

  “She was wearing the necklace two nights ago when she was kidnapped.”

  To the man’s credit, Sandoval’s face registered genuine shock. “I’m sorry. Your family must be quite upset.”

  Easton savored the condolence for a moment. But only a moment. “Her kidnappers are asking for five million dollars and a written statement saying I will abdicate the throne by year’s end. Since you represent the antimonarchists…well, you can see why I might want to talk to you.”

  “Are you abdicating?”

  Spoken like a true reformer. Though Easton needed information, he had no plans for making any concessions to the man. “Not until I name my successor. The monarchy will stand.”

  Remy inhaled deeply and reached for the top button of his shirt. “May I?” Easton nodded and Remy loosened his collar and tie. The king remembered that same habit from when they’d negotiated a political settlement a year and a half ago. It was a sign of pending cooperation. “So you’re asking me to confirm or deny whether any of my people are behind this plot to unseat you?”

  “I’m asking you—in the good faith I showed when I signed the KDF Development Accord—to give me straight answers.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of the kidnapping. I’ll ask around. Some of the extremist party members are more loyal to the cause than to me.”

  It was all Easton wanted to hear. He stood and reached across the desk. “Thank you.”

  Sandoval stood and took his hand. “Your Highness?” He followed Easton to the door where Harrison waited. “Admittedly my first training was as a soldier, not a politician. Talking and waiting don’t come naturally to me. But I can see that you are making a legitimate effort to include my party’s views in your policy-making decisions. I don’t want to jeopardize the progress we’ve made. I’ll vouch for my party’s innocence in this matter. But if an individual has taken your granddaughter in the Democratic Front’s name, I’ll find out about it.”

  Easton squeezed his shoulder in a gesture that was at once a promise and a warning. “If it is one of your people, tell them I want her back safe and unharmed. Or all the progress we’ve made together will be undone.”

  Remy nodded his understanding. He clicked his heels and bowed before leaving.

  Harrison shut the door and turned to Easton. “Do you think he’s telling the truth? That his party has nothing to do with this?”

 
“In a way, I hope he is lying.”

  “Your Highness!”

  Easton shook off his worry. “I haven’t gone mad. It’s just that there aren’t that many people who would benefit from my stepping down. If it’s not someone who wants to overthrow the entire monarchy, then it’s someone who wants the throne for himself.”

  “The prince?”

  “There’s something wrong with that boy.” His suspicions saddened him, made him weary to the bone. “But I don’t have any proof that he’s behind this—any more than I can prove Sandoval and his people are. Without proof, my hands are tied by the laws of succession. I want answers.”

  Harrison took him by the elbow and walked with him down the hall toward the guest suite. “You need your rest, sir.”

  “I need those answers more.”

  Chapter Six

  Cade lay on his belly in the grass. His black hair and infrared field glasses were the only things that extended above the rise at the edge of the clearing, rendering him nearly invisible to anyone in the cabin below.

  The swirling cloud cover played peek-a-boo with the full moon, creating plenty of shadows in the trees to hide among. But he’d be open game once he cleared the tall grass and rocks at the foot of the hill. Looking through the glasses at the eerie glow-in-the-dark world of infrared, he scanned the path one more time to verify that the place was deserted. Temporarily, at least. There was no vehicle in the driveway, but the boat was still anchored at the dock, and the boat’s trailer was parked in the grass nearby.

  Cade shoved the field glasses into a side pocket and pulled on his mask. He’d allowed himself twenty minutes for this neighborly visit. If he hadn’t satisfied his curiosity about the unexpected proximity of their guest by then, he’d head back. No sense getting Jerome’s nose any further out of joint than it already was. A better boss might have praised Cade’s initiative. Jerome, however, in real physical agony after turning his ankle on an exposed tree root in their pursuit of Ellie, would only whine that Cade was neglecting his assignment and leaving more work for him and Lenny.