Rocco inclined his head. “I’m informed that the fortress was empty by the time my troops stormed the building. They must have left when they realized she’d been taken. Apparently there was an underground escape tunnel that wasn’t on any plans.”
“You’re disappointed my men didn’t detain Mila’s kidnappers?”
“How can I be when an attempt to do so might have resulted in her being hurt...or worse? You did the right thing insisting on a stealth operation. We will catch the perpetrators eventually. They will be brought to justice.”
Thierry nodded in agreement and the two men sat in silence, watching the woman they both loved as she rested. Eventually Rocco took his leave, pausing a moment to put his hand on Thierry’s shoulder.
“Her heart is yours, my friend. Take care of it,” he said carefully.
“For the rest of my life, if she’ll let me,” Thierry answered grimly.
Rocco made a sound of assent and then left, closing the door behind him quietly. On the bed, Mila began to stir and her eyes slowly opened. Her gaze searched for and found him. For a moment myriad emotions flashed across her open features—fear, relief, joy...and then they were hidden behind a schooled emptiness that scored Thierry’s heart like a blade.
“You’re awake,” he said unnecessarily, and poured a fresh glass of water for her. “Here, drink this. Doctor’s orders.”
She struggled to an upright position and took the glass from him. A wild flow of protectiveness shot through him when he saw her hand shake as she tipped the glass and drank deeply. He took the empty glass from her and refilled it.
“No, no more.” She looked around, confusion evident on her face. “I’m back at home?” she asked, her voice husky and her eyes avoiding contact with his.
“Your brother felt it best.”
Slowly, she looked up. “It wasn’t a dream, was it? It was you at the fortress?”
“Together with my elite special forces team.”
The explanation of how they came to be there, how his men had used every legal source available to them—and several that weren’t—to track the helicopter to where it had landed, and then create a list of possible targets where she might have been held, could wait until another time.
She sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes again.
“Th-thank you,” she said weakly.
“You don’t owe me any thanks. I hold myself responsible for your capture. If I had been more of a man and less of an unreasonable, spoiled and angry child, it would never have happened.”
Again that wave of fear and self-loathing coursed through him.
“No, don’t blame yourself. You could have done nothing to stop them.”
“If I hadn’t let you go—”
Her eyes opened again. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to ask your forgiveness.”
“My forgiveness? For what?”
“For treating you so damnably. For not listening. For not accepting your love when it was so freely given with such a pure heart. For painting you with the same brush that I had painted my mother and believing you were no different than her—that you were the kind of woman who cared for nothing but her own pleasure.”
“Wow, that’s quite a list,” Mila answered. “But I still believe there is nothing for me to forgive. I’m the one who lied to you and cheated to get to you—I even arranged the detention of an innocent woman so I could achieve my goals. I am hardly a paragon of virtue. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d left me to rot in that vile fortress.”
“But your actions came from a place of love—from a determination to give the two of us the best possible chance to know and learn to love each other,” he said calmly, earning a look of surprise from her.
“That doesn’t excuse my choices.”
“No, only I can do that.”
“Will you? Will you forgive me?”
“I have already done so. When I heard you were missing I realized how stupid and proud I had been. How empty my life would be without you in it. How foolish I was, to spurn the one thing that I have craved all my life. Unquestionable, unconditional love.” He took her hands with both of his and lifted them to his lips, pressing a dozen kisses to her knuckles. “I love you, my Angel. I hope you will give me another chance. I promise I will do my best by you, in all ways.”
Tears filled her eyes and began to spill down her cheeks, leaving tracks on her skin. “You still love me?”
“I never stopped. And that made my anger all the harder to bear. I hated every second without you, but my pride was still wounded, and it kept me from trusting you—from trusting in us.”
“I just wanted you to love me. To enter into our marriage together with the knowledge that ours would be a blessed union. That we wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of my parents, or—” she hesitated and drew in a breath “—yours.”
“We hardly had the best of examples, did we? Which is why it is going to be all the more important that we work hard together to make sure our children, and their children, know exactly what it is like to love and to be loved, don’t you think?”
“Our children?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“Say it again, first. Say you forgive me.”
“I forgive you without blame or conditions or recrimination. I love you, Princess Mila Angelina, and I want you to be my wife—to rule the kingdom of Sylvain at my side as my queen. Will you marry me, my Angel?”
“Thinking of a future without you was torture—an endless black hole of loneliness and despair. So, yes, I will marry you, my Hawk. Nothing would make me happier. I love you with every breath in my body, every thought in my mind and every beat of my heart. I promise I will always love you and I will raise our children with you with much joy and pride. They will always know they are loved and important each in their own right, but always you will be the most important thing in the world to me.”
* * *
Mila alighted from the carriage, allowing her brother to assist her from the ornately gilded old-fashioned contraption and bestowing on him a smile that came straight from her heart.
“You look beautiful today, little sister.”
“I feel beautiful. How could I not when I’m the happiest woman in the world today.”
“As you should be,” he murmured. He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and they traveled up the red carpet that lined the stairs leading to the massive Sylvano cathedral. All around them they heard the cheers and well wishes of the thousands of people that lined the roads on either side of the church. Flags from both Erminia and Sylvain dotted through the crowds. “You deserve to be,” he added.
“As do you, brother.” Mila gave him a look of concern.
“One day, maybe,” he conceded.
There was more going on with him than he was prepared to admit, Mila thought. And hadn’t that been the story of their lives since he’d become king? She wished with all her heart that he could know the same love that she and Thierry shared. Rocco needed to know that there would always be someone there for him, standing by his side.
Her brother cocked an eyebrow at her. “Having second thoughts?”
“Not at all, why?”
“Because we’re dillydallying here on the carpet while your future husband awaits you inside.”
“Well, we had better not keep him waiting a second longer,” Mila answered with a swell of joy in her heart.
From the second they entered the doors to the cathedral her eyes were locked on Thierry. She felt a burst of pride that the tall and handsome man in his ceremonial garb was hers. Music billowed from the organ to fill the air to the rafters as she and her brother began their path down the carpet that led to what Mila knew would be the best of futures. All around her, people turned to stare and comments flew
amongst them as she moved by in her gown, her long train sweeping along behind her.
She’d chosen not to have any attendants. She wanted to show Thierry she needed no one other than him for the rest of her life. As the ceremony began and Rocco gave her in marriage to the man standing by her side, Mila felt nothing but exhilaration in the moment. This man before her was her future. Her everything. And, reflected in his eyes, she could see he felt exactly the same way.
Sally stepped forward from the front pew to take Mila’s bouquet and whispered, “I told you—a fairy tale!”
“Every day for the rest of my life,” Mila answered before turning back to Thierry and solemnly making the vows that would tie her to him for the rest of her life.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of pomp and ceremony, but despite her happiness at the celebrations, Mila wanted nothing more than to have Thierry to herself again. After the sumptuous formal reception and dancing she was only too happy when Sally drew her away so she could change for her departure. In the palace apartment that had been set aside for her, Mila hastened to disrobe from her gown.
“Slow down, you’ll tear something if you’re not careful,” Sally chided playfully. “Besides, it won’t hurt to make him wait just a little longer.”
“It might not hurt him, but it’s killing me!” Mila laughed as she shed the last petticoat and stepped free.
“I’m so happy for you, you know,” Sally said as she helped Mila into a form-fitting gown designed by one of Erminia’s newest up-and-coming designers. “You deserve your happy ever after.”
“Thank you. I wish everyone could be as happy as I am right now.”
And she was happy, incredibly so. The only potential fly in the ointment was the threat that still hung over Rocco’s right to the throne, but she forced herself to put that from her mind. There was nothing she could do about it now.
A knock at the door sent the women scurrying to find Mila’s shoes and bag.
“Just a minute,” Sally called out when Mila was finally ready. “I’d wish you all the best but I can see you have it already,” she said, giving Mila a warm hug.
“I do. I never thanked you enough for being my friend, or for suggesting that we take that trip to New York. Without that, I don’t know if I’d be where I am right now.”
Sally stepped back and gave her a smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I like to think that fate has a hand in the very important things in life.”
“Fate, friends—whatever it was. I’m grateful to you. Friends forever, right?”
“Forever.”
Mila opened the door to discover Thierry waiting on the other side. He offered her his arm.
“Ready to come with me, my Angel?”
“Always,” she answered.
* * * * *
If you loved this sexy, emotional book from USA TODAY bestselling author Yvonne Lindsay pick up her MASTER VINTNERS series
THE WAYWARD SON
A FORBIDDEN AFFAIR
ONE SECRET NIGHT
THE HIGH PRICE OF SECRETS
WANTING WHAT SHE CAN’T HAVE
THE WEDDING BARGAIN
Available now from Harlequin Desire!
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Trapped with the Maverick Millionaire
by Joss Wood
Prologue
Rory Kydd, dressed in a too-small T-shirt and battered pajama bottoms, walked into the kitchen of her sister’s luxurious kitchen and looked at the dark screen of the TV sitting on the counter.
Her best friend, Troy, had texted to tell her the Vancouver Mavericks had won and there had been high drama during the post-game interview. She was tempted to turn on the TV to see what he was talking about but, because she had a paper due and exams looming—and because she was trying not to think about one Maverick player in particular—she decided to have a cup of coffee and go back to the books. But even if she didn’t give in to temptation, it couldn’t be denied, team newbies Kade Webb, Quinn Rayne and Mark “Mac” McCaskill were a handful both on and off the ice, and Vancouver had three new heroes.
Three young, unfairly talented and, it had to be said, stupidly good-looking heroes.
And the best-looking of the bunch, in her opinion, was dating her older sister Shay.
Rory poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned her butt against the counter. Shay and Mac made perfect sense, she told herself. Again. Shay was a model and a TV presenter. Mac was the supertalented, superfine center for the city’s beloved hockey team. They were the perfect age, she was twenty-three and Mac a year older, and, according to the press, because they were both beautiful and successful, a perfect match.
It was all perfectly perfect.
Except that Rory wasn’t convinced.
And that wasn’t because Mac made her toes tingle and her stomach jump. It had nothing to do with her insane attraction to the man. No, she’d spent enough time around Shay and Mac to see the cracks in their relationship, to know the bloom was off the rose and Shay was acting like a loon. Judging by Mac’s wary, closed-off expression whenever Rory saw them together, Shay had him on the Crazy Express.
Rory would bet her last dollar Shay was feeling desperate, calling and texting relentlessly whenever they were apart. Since they both had such demanding careers, they were apart a lot.
Rory knew why Shay was insecure, why she couldn’t trust a man. Rory had grown up in the same house as Shay. The difference between them was that Shay kept hoping there was one man out there who could be faithful and monogamous.
Rory was pretty damn sure that, like unicorns and the yeti, such a creature didn’t exist.
Rory scowled and wrapped her hands around her mug. Shay hadn’t told Mac why she was acting crazy, Rory was pretty sure of that. To complicate matters further, Rory and Mac had somehow become friends. Sadly, that was all they could ever be. He was too good-looking, too much of a celebrity, too far out of her league. She was a college student. He was a successful player, both on and off the ice... Oh, and t
hat other little thing—he was her sister’s boyfriend!
Besides all that, Mac treated Rory as he would a younger sister. He teased her, argued with her and made her laugh. So she’d caught him watching her with a brooding look on that sexy face once or twice but she wasn’t an idiot, she knew it didn’t mean anything. He’d probably wanted to talk to her about Shay, wanted advice on how to deal with her volatility. Rory never wanted to have that conversation.
A couple of nights ago, he’d given her a lift home from work and she’d been surprised when he didn’t mention Shay. Why he’d waited for Rory to finish her waitressing shift was still a mystery but sitting in his sports car, shoulder to shoulder, saying next to nothing, had been the best twenty minutes of her life.
He’d walked her to the door of her lousy apartment building—the same building that currently had no heat—and he’d stood there looking down at her. Something in his expression had heat swirling in her stomach; he’d looked like a man about to kiss a woman. But she knew that had to be her imagination working overtime. He was dating Shay, tall, slim, stunning.
But, just for a moment, she’d thought he’d wanted to kiss her, to taste her, to yank her into his arms... Rory sighed. It wasn’t possible. He was dating her sister. He was permanently off-limits; messing in Shay’s relationship was a line she would not cross. Thinking about Mac, like that, was a flight of fancy she had no right to take. Enough of that now.
Rory heard the front door open and she waited for Shay’s yell that she was home. It didn’t come, and Rory heard heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, a tread that couldn’t possibly belong to her sister. The saliva in her mouth dried up and her heart rolled; there was only one other person who had a key to Shay’s apartment and he was the one person Rory didn’t want to be alone with.
In her pajamas, with crazy hair, sans makeup and braless.
Mac appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, scowled at her and ran a hand over his tired face. He had a light bruise on his jaw—he’d obviously traded blows on the ice—and the beginnings of a black eye but his injuries looked superficial. It was the emotion she saw in his dark eyes that held her rooted to the spot; he looked frustrated and wound up.
Arranged Marriage, Bedroom Secrets Page 17
