by Day Leclaire
“You lied to me, you bastard. You didn’t tell me you were Prince Lander’s brother!”
Without a word, he started the engine and thrust the car into gear.
“Don’t you have anything to say?” she demanded.
“Not here and not now.”
They sped past their apartment without pausing and she twisted in her seat, watching it vanish behind them. “Where…where are we going? Why aren’t we returning to the apartment?”
“Too risky. We’re moving on. I have another safe house that’s not too far from here. We’ll spend the night there before heading into the hills.”
“But our clothes—”
“Are replaceable. Everything we need I have on me.”
She fell silent at that, too upset and emotionally drained to do more than stare out the side window. There was so much she wanted to say in reply, but words failed her. Perhaps it was due to the exhaustion dogging her. More likely it was because she knew if she tried to speak again she’d end up in tears. The drive seemed endless as they darted up and down narrow, winding streets, at times backtracking and circling. After an hour he’d satisfied himself that they weren’t being followed and pulled into a drive that lead up a steep embankment. At the crest of the hill stood a large house with an impressive view of the city.
As soon as they were ensconced inside, he walked her through the place, checking windows and doors as he went. Checking escape routes, she supposed. The home was beautifully appointed, far superior to the apartment they’d shared.
“Whose place is this?” she roused herself enough to ask.
“No one I know personally. No one Tolk can trace to me.”
“He found us sooner than you expected, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
She could tell that fact had him worried and she couldn’t decide if the knowledge brought her a certain level of satisfaction, or if she joined him in his concern. They returned to the living area and Merrick crossed to a well-appointed wet bar.
“We need to talk,” he announced, pouring drinks.
“What’s the point? You lied. End of discussion.”
“You deserve an explanation.” He handed her a snifter half-filled with amber liquid. “Here. You look like you could use this.”
She cupped the glass in her hands and inhaled the rich, nutty scent as she gazed at him across the wide brim of the cut crystal snifter. “Is brandy the official antidote for betrayal?” she asked.
“You’ll have to let me know.”
She lifted the glass. “In that case…to trust,” she said and took a healthy swallow.
“I apologize, Alyssa. I should have told you who I am.”
Her mouth curved in a bitter smile. “And who are you, exactly?”
“Exactly who Marston’s wife claimed I was. Merrick Montgomery.”
“Don’t you mean Prince Merrick? Younger brother of Prince Lander, duke of Verdon.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Do I have that right?”
“Yes.”
“The same Prince Lander who’s competing with Prince Brandt for the throne?”
A muscle jerked in his cheek. “Yes,” he said again.
“It would seem your antidote isn’t working.” She swirled the brandy around the balloon of the snifter. “I still feel betrayed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I believed you,” she whispered. He didn’t say anything and she took another gulp of brandy, choking as the aged wine took a bite out of the back of her throat. “I actually believed you had an altruistic motive for what you were doing. But instead every last action has been to ensure your brother becomes king. What a fool I am. You’d think I’d have learned from my mother’s mistakes. Never trust a man, especially one with an agenda.”
His anger flashed, hot and potent, causing her to stumble back a step. “Do you think I haven’t questioned my own motives?” He tossed back his brandy, as well, though he handled it far better than she had. “That I haven’t worried that they might be less than pure?”
She turned her back on him and strode to the French doors that accessed a large balcony. Thrusting them open, she stepped outside. Glynith stretched out far below, the glittering lights of the various buildings turning the city into a virtual fairyland, filling her with a yearning she didn’t understand.
She sensed Merrick’s approach and spoke without turning around. “You may have questioned your motives, but it sure as hell didn’t stop you from abducting me.”
“No, it didn’t.” He dropped his snifter onto a small table at one end of the balcony, the fragile crystal ringing in protest. “Because it all boiled down to one vital consideration. What was best for Verdonia.”
“And your brother’s the best choice, is that it?”
“No.”
She turned her head, startled to discover Merrick standing almost on top of her. She fought to conceal how everything about him affected her. Profoundly. The deep roughness of his voice. His musky scent. Even the size and shape of his hands captivated her on the most basic, primitive level. Her gaze lifted to the sensuous curve of his mouth. His distinctive scar hooked his lip into a half smile. She could still remember how that scar felt beneath her own mouth and she drew a deep breath, forcing herself to ignore everything but getting through the next few moments.
“If your brother isn’t the best choice, then why did you abduct me?”
He took the brandy from her hand and set her glass on the table alongside his. “The best choice is whomever the people of Verdonia choose in the upcoming election. But it’s their call. Not von Folke’s. Not Lander’s. Not mine or yours. It’s for all of Verdonia to determine. That’s what I’m fighting for.”
She hated that his words made sense, that they struck a chord that resonated deep within. He stood for a deeply rooted community, for individuals joined together in purpose. It was something she’d longed for all her life. Instead, she’d always hovered on the outside, her nose pressed to the proverbial glass. “And now? What happens next? Do we continue our four-month pilgrimage?”
“That’s no longer possible. Trust is a two-way street, Alyssa. Neither of us trusts the other. So, it’s time to take more drastic action.”
She swallowed, wishing she had more of that brandy. “I’m afraid to ask what that might be.”
“I always had a plan B. I just hoped not to have to use it.” His mouth curved in an ironic smile. “We’re going to marry.”
It took two tries to catch her breath sufficiently to speak. “We’re what?”
“Going to get married.”
She shook her head. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Think about it, Alyssa. If I marry you, von Folke can’t.”
“You’ve hit on the perfect solution. The perfect way,” she marveled, then added furiously, “the perfect way to get my mother killed.”
“If we marry, he can’t use you as a pawn. You’re free. We’ll wait a decent interval and then divorce. As for your mother—” he scrubbed a hand across his jaw “—if you marry me, I’ll leave immediately afterward to rescue her.”
That stopped her. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“You…you would do that?”
“I would have done it already if I’d believed she were in any real danger.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Do we have an agreement? Will you marry me?”
She wished she had time to think it through, to give it more than two seconds’ worth of consideration. But she was out of both options and time. She snatched a quick breath and took the plunge. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Excellent.” His satisfaction at her response vied with some other emotion, one she hesitated to put a name to. One that held a frightening element of the personal attached to it. “Then I suggest we seal our bargain.”
The words hung between them for an endless moment. The driving thunder of her pulse matched the harsh give and take of his breath. He took a step in her direction, closing the scant few inches sepa
rating them. Resolve darkened his eyes and he reached for her, mating their bodies, locking them together in a fit that could only be described as sheer perfection.
There was nothing tentative about his taking, it came lightning fast and deliciously accurate. He knew precisely how to touch her, how to kiss her, how to steal every thought from her head except the burning need for gratification. Desire struck, a sharp, lustful craving that demanded satisfaction. He plundered her mouth, initiating the sweetest of duels.
She surrendered without hesitation. No. Not a surrender. A battle for supremacy. Then not a battle at all, but a giving, one to the other. His tongue tangled with hers, teasing, playing, demanding. His hands followed the length of her spine, his fingers splaying across the curve of her buttocks, fitting her into his palms. He lifted her, pulling her tight against him. She could feel his arousal pressing against her belly and it ignited her own desire, intensifying it. Spurring it to unbearable heights.
She forked her fingers deep into his hair, tilting his head to a more accessible angle. Catching his bottom lip between her teeth, she tugged urgently, before falling into his kiss again. Time and place vanished. All that remained was the harsh sound of breathing, the rustle of clothing, the slide of flesh against flesh. More than anything she wanted him to hike up her skirt and rip through the modest layer of cotton that kept her from him. To drive into her and give her the relief she craved. She’d been alone all her life. Endless, empty days and nights. A life of running from, but never to. She wanted to stop running. To fill that emptiness, fill it in the most basic, carnal way possible. If her mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied, she would have asked for it, demanded it. Begged.
And it was that image—of her pleading to be taken on the balcony of a stranger’s home as mindless lust overrode common sense—that acted like a splash of cold water. She shuddered. What the hell was she doing? How could she have been so foolish? Worse, how could she have compromised herself with such ease and so little thought? Had she learned nothing from her mother’s example? From Merrick’s betrayal? She untangled herself from their embrace, ashamed that she couldn’t resist snatching a final, hungry kiss before pushing at his shoulders.
“No more.” The words were as much plea as demand. “This is a mistake and I’ve made enough mistakes in my life without compounding them.”
She could see him debate whether or not to push, to take advantage of her momentary weakness. To her relief, he contented himself with feathering a final kiss across her mouth before releasing her. “Consider our bargain sealed.”
She moistened her swollen lips with the tip of her tongue. His taste lingered, unsettling her, and she struggled to come up with a way out of the agreement she’d been foolish enough to enter. “About that—”
He lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Going to break your word already?”
She was tempted. Sorely tempted. She’d gotten herself caught in a dangerous situation, one she should have walked away from the minute she’d sensed the trap. But she’d have done anything, agreed to anything, if it meant saving her mother. Now she’d struck a deal with the devil and she didn’t doubt for a minute that he’d hold her to it.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stick. You just make sure you play by the rules from now on.”
His grin slashed through the dark. “I’m not here to play by them, Princess. My job is to make them up as we go along.”
He’d gotten her with that one and she turned away without another word. She stalked back into the living room, his soft laughter following her, tripping through her, rousing emotions she’d thought were long dead. She wasn’t here for romance, she reminded herself. She was here bargaining for her mother’s safety. Falling in love wasn’t part of the plan. Nor was falling in lust. Regaining control of her life was the end goal and she’d be smart to remember it.
It took her a few minutes to remember where the bedroom was located and once she’d found it, she shut herself inside, praying Merrick would give her time before joining her. Closing her eyes in helpless despair, she leaned against the door and forced herself to admit the truth. She wanted to be swept away by his touch, to drown beneath his kisses. To sink into the powerful surge of his lovemaking before floating on the glorious tide of release that would surely follow. Why? Why did she react to him? Why this man over all the others she’d met in recent years?
She wandered through the darkened room, caught in the restless ebb and flow of her own emotions. Eventually she found herself standing beside the huge bed. Images flashed through her mind. Male and female, naked. Darkness and light, intertwined on a bed of silk. The first tentative strokes. Gentle. Tender. Soft, urgent cries of need. The slow give and take of the mating ritual. A sweet loving.
Loving.
She spun away from the bed. What in the world was wrong with her? No. Not loving. Sex was one thing. Love, something entirely different. She could use one, enjoy it, without being imprisoned by the other. She lowered her head, dragging in air. Damn it! A single crazed kiss and her hormones were all stirred up and desperate for release. What had happened to her self-control? What had happened to her focus and determination?
She had one single goal—to rescue her mother and return home—and she’d do well to remember that.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Merrick winced as he opened the door a little wider to allow his brother, Lander, access to the safe house. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That seemed the smartest response, at least until he had time to find out how much big brother knew.
“I’m talking about the abduction of Princess Alyssa Sutherland.”
Damn. Apparently he knew a lot. Too much, in fact. “Who talked?”
“Miri.” Lander brushed past him and paced across the living room, as large and aggressive as ever, the embodiment of his nickname—the Lion of Mt. Roche. “She’s on the Caribbean island of Mazoné, probably because she knows our mother will wring her neck when she finds out what the pair of you have been up to.”
“Thank God she’s—” Safe. Merrick bit off the word. Probably not the best thing to say to an overly protective older brother. “I’ll deal with Mother.”
“Good luck with that.” He faced Merrick, his arms folded across his chest. “Now where is the princess? She’s going back to Avernos right now, even if I have to take her there myself.”
Merrick swore beneath his breath. “She’s asleep and she’s not going anywhere. In fact, you don’t want her going anywhere. If you return Alyssa to von Folke, you’ll lose the election.”
Lander cut him off with a cutting sweep of his hand. “Then I lose the election.”
“Don’t interfere,” Merrick warned. “Alyssa and I are getting married. End of discussion. When we do, it’ll put paid to von Folke’s scheme and the election will be based on merit rather than regional loyalty.”
Lander appeared skeptical. “I can’t believe Princess Alyssa is agreeable to such a drastic solution.”
“Trust me. When it comes down to a choice between me and von Folke, she’s agreeable.”
“You swear she’s willing?” Lander pressed. “You’re not forcing her the way Brandt was?”
Merrick fought back a wave of indignation. “Hell no, I’m not forcing her. I’m not von Folke.” Though he couldn’t in all honesty claim she was a hundred percent willing. Amenable, perhaps. If he stretched it. “We reached an agreement. She marries me in exchange for my rescuing her mother.”
“Son of a—von Folke again?”
“Yes.” Merrick took a step in the direction of the door. “You need to go. I don’t want anyone to find out we’ve been in communication.”
Lander speared his fingers through his brown and gold mane of hair and glared with hazel eyes that were more green than gold. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this craziness, am I?”
Merrick shook his head. “Not a chance.”
“Do you realize all you’re sacrificing?” Lander
asked urgently. “You don’t have to do this. Not for me.”
“Yes, I know precisely what I’m sacrificing. And yes, I have to do this. By tomorrow it’ll be a done deal.” He offered a crooked smile. “Just so you know, I consider it well worth the consequences.”
Lander cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
Merrick executed a slight bow. “My pleasure and my duty, Your Highness.”
“Oh, knock it off,” his brother said in embarrassment. “Here, I have something for you.” He pulled out a computer CD in a plastic case and handed it over. “You requested a set of blueprints to von Folke’s palace. I offered to play courier.”
Merrick frowned in concern. “You shouldn’t have brought these anymore than you should be here. I’m trying to keep you out of this. I want you to have plausible deniability.”
“You’re kidding yourself if you think that’s possible. I could shout deniability from dawn until dusk, and no one would believe it. You’re my brother. The assumption will be that I’m in on the abduction and any other actions you take from here on.” His face settled into grim lines. “Not that I care. We’re not the ones who set this game in motion. Von Folke will have a tough time crying foul play when it’s revealed that he’s been cheating from the start. Was he really forcing her to marry him? You’re certain?”
“Positive. Once Alyssa found out he was holding her mother, she didn’t feel she had a choice other than to go through with the ceremony. If I hadn’t taken action, they’d be married by now.” Merrick gestured toward a small study off the living room. “Come on. There’s a computer in there. Let’s take a look at what’s on the disk.”
Lander followed him, leaning against the desk to watch. “I’ve been going over the situation ever since I found out about von Folke’s plan,” he said while they waited for the computer to boot up. “I can’t figure why he’d pull such a stunt. It’s out of character for him.”
