A Bride for the Taking

by Sandra Marton

  The ground was rushing up faster and faster. Dorian swallowed, then returned his smile as bravely as she could.

  ‘Then I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t have dinner service on this flight, isn’t it? I’d hate to spill coffee all over my lap.’

  He grinned. ‘We’ll have champagne on our next flight together, I promise.’ He gave her hand one last squeeze, and then he clasped the control yoke. ‘Just think positive thoughts,’ he said, ‘and before you know it we’ll be down safe.’

  Dorian nodded, but it was too late to think anything. The earth was coming up to meet them at an alarming speed. At the last minute, just before the wheels touched down, she closed her eyes tightly. There was a wrenching thud, a rushing noise, and then—and then silence.

  ‘Dorian?’

  She sat absolutely still, half afraid that if she opened her eyes she would see something awful.

  ‘Dorian. Are you all right?’

  She swallowed. ‘I—I think so.’

  She heard the clink of metal, the whisper of fabric, and then the touch of a hand on her face.

  ‘Dorian. Look at me.’

  Her eyes opened slowly. Jake was bending over her, his face dark. With anger, she thought—but then, suddenly, he blew out his breath and dropped to one knee beside her.

  ‘You’re all right,’ he said.

  She nodded. ‘I think so. Yes. Yes, I’m fine.’ She laughed shakily. ‘Just a little scared.’

  His hand stroked her cheek lightly. ‘You’ve a right to be scared.’

  She swallowed. ‘Actually, it’s more like terrified.’

  He smiled, and she thought suddenly that it was a very nice smile, and that he had not smiled at her that way since—since just before he’d kissed her that first time at the airport.

  ‘You should have trusted me,’ he said. ‘I told you I’d get us down in one piece.’

  Dorian looked at him. Why should I have trusted you? she wanted to say. After all, you don’t trust me.

  But he was right not to trust her, wasn’t he? Just before the engine had conked out she’d been playing games, trying to wheedle a story out of him while he—he had made her a promise and kept it.

  Still, he hadn’t been entirely truthful with her. She didn’t know who he was. Although she had an idea. A damned good idea.

  Her eyes lifted to his. ‘Mr Prince?’

  He smiled again. ‘Yes?’

  She touched her tongue to her lips; his gaze followed the gesture, then returned to hers.

  ‘Considering the circumstances…’ She paused. ‘I—I—I have a question.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said softly, ‘so do I.’

  He bent and kissed her, his mouth warm and seeking against hers. She drew back in surprise and his arms went around her and gathered her close. Her lips parted. She told herself it was to whisper a protest, but when she felt the first brush of his tongue against hers a soft sound came unbidden from the back of her throat. Her hands came up; she leaned into him and caught hold of his shirt, clutching it tightly in her fingers, and the race of her heart and the pound of her blood obliterated all reality.

  It was he who ended the kiss. ‘Kitten,’ he whispered.

  Dorian’s eyes opened slowly. He was holding her a breath from him; she knew that the flush of desire that crimsoned his cheekbones must be matched by her own.

  It was hard to talk, at first. ‘Jake.’ She stared into his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean…’

  He smiled. ‘At least you’ve answered my question,’ he said softly. ‘I was going to ask if you didn’t think it was time you called me Jake?’

  Dorian hesitated. ‘Is that—is that really your name?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, it occurred to me that—that you just might be…’ She swallowed. ‘I was wondering if you might be the abdhan of Barovnia.’

  Desire left his face. He looked at her coldly as he stepped back and rose to his feet.

  ‘I suppose I should have expected that. A good reporter never stops thinking about her story, does she?’

  ‘It’s a logical question, Jake. You can’t blame me for thinking—’

  ‘Let me put your mind at ease, then. I am not the abdhan. And the only thing you’d better think about is that we’ve got to get out of here, and fast.’

  She frowned. ‘Shouldn’t we wait with the plane? How else will the search party find us?’

  Jake moved past her into the cabin. ‘There won’t be a search party.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Once you put out an SOS—’

  ‘I’m not going to draw my people in here, Dorian.’

  ‘In where?’ she said, staring at him. ‘What in heaven’s name are you talking about?’

  ‘We’ve come down in the middle of the Askara Wilderness,’ he said as he pulled open a locker and reached inside it.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means,’ he said grimly, ‘that you’re going to get the chance to take a long, hard look at a primitive territory inhabited by barbarians.’

  Dorian got to her feet and put her hands on her hips. ‘Very funny. But I’ve apologised for that remark too many times as it is. It’s time you stopped trotting it out at every opportunity.’

  ‘There’s nothing even remotely funny about our situation.’ He was stuffing things into the sack as he spoke. Two lap blankets. Chocolate bars. A couple of cans of Coke. ‘This is a place where it’s impossible to tell the good guys from the bad. So, unless you want to risk researching what it’s like to be the night’s entertainment, you’d better get your pretty butt in gear and follow me.’

  Dorian blinked. ‘You’re joking.’

  Jake looked at her. ‘Do I look as if I’m joking?’ he asked coldly.

  No, she thought, he didn’t. But he couldn’t really be serious. A primitive territory? Bad guys you couldn’t tell from good guys? Barbarians?

  And all at once she understood. The engine malfunction had been real enough—instinct told her that Jake Prince wasn’t the sort of man who’d fake something as dangerous as a landing on a plateau the size of a breadboard—but the rest was nonsense. He’d seen his chance to make her eat her words about primitive countries and barbarians, and he’d leaped at it. This was payback—an exhausting hike to Kadar, the capital of Barovnia, which was probably an hour or two away—and he’d have had the last laugh.

  Well, he could just take his nasty little scheme and shove it.

  Dorian smiled sweetly. ‘Are you ready to leave?’

  Jake nodded as he snugged the sack shut and hoisted it on his shoulder.

  ‘Yes. The Cristou Mountains are just ahead, and—’

  ‘Well, then, have a good trip.’

  He straightened and stared at her. ‘What?’

  ‘I said, have a good trip. I’ll stay here and wait.’

  Jake’s eyes went flat. ‘For what? I’ve just told you—’

  ‘I know what you told me.’ She shrugged lazily. ‘I’ll take my chances with the—what do you call the people who inhabit this place?’

  ‘Dorian. Listen to me.’

  Her smile fled. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘you listen for a change. I know what this is all about. I know what you’re up to. You’re determined to make me eat my words about—about—you know, the primitive country thing, and—’

  ‘Do you really think I’m that petty?’ he asked quietly.

  For a second, her resolve faltered. But then she looked into his cold eyes, and her spine stiffened.

  ‘I’m not budging. If you’re going, you go alone.’

  ‘Get up, Dorian.’

  His voice was ominously soft. But she was tired of being intimidated by this man. It was time to put a stop to it.

  ‘No. I’m not going with you.’

  ‘Get up!’

  She stared at him. He looked suddenly dangerous, and she thought again of the panther, but it was too late to back off.

  ‘I’m not taking orders from you, Jake.’


  He stepped closer. The look on his face made it difficult not to shrink back in defence, but she held her ground.

  ‘I’ve no time to play games,’ he said.

  ‘Good. Then you’ll stop all this foolishness, turn on the radio, and call for help. Or must I do it my—?’

  She cried out as he bent towards her, but he didn’t touch her. Instead, he reached for the microphone and ripped it from the console.

  ‘Hey,’ she said. Doubt crept into her voice. ‘What’d you do that for?’

  ‘Just in case you get any ideas. I told you, I don’t want my people drawn into this place. Now.’ He straightened and stared down at her. ‘Are you coming with me or aren’t you?’

  Dorian gave a nervous laugh. ‘Come on, Jake. Don’t you think you’re carrying this a little too far…?’

  Her voice drifted to silence as he pushed open the door. ‘Good luck,’ he said, and then, to her absolute astonishment, he dropped lightly to the ground and trotted off across the silent meadow.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  OBVIOUSLY, Jake didn’t know when it was time to admit he’d lost the game.

  Dorian blew out a breath. It had taken a moment to figure out, but once she had it all fell into place. Jake had expected her to swallow his fanciful tale of bogeymen and danger, and when she hadn’t he’d been caught short. That arrogant male pride of his had kept him from admitting that he’d invented the story, and so he’d marched off across the meadow without so much as a backward glance.

  She shaded her eyes with her hands and watched his receding figure. The only question now was what would happen next. How long would he let her stew in her own juices before he came back to collect her? Because that was what he’d have to do. Despite all the dramatics with the radio, there would undoubtedly be a search party on the way, and he couldn’t very well let it find her alone.

  Dorian smiled. She could just imagine him trying to explain his way out of that situation.

  ‘Jake Prince went off and left me here,’ she would say bravely, first for her rescuers and then for the media. ‘I suppose he thought he would be safe, leaving a defenceless woman alone in a—a wilderness. I guess he thought he would never be found out. I mean, he kept reminding me that no one knew I was on board the plane with him.’

  She laughed softly as the dark forest swallowed him up. ‘Sorry, Jake,’ she murmured as she settled in to wait. ‘I’m afraid you’ve underestimated me.’

  She wondered again how long it would take him to come trudging back. He had, at best, only minutes to play with—and then, she thought smugly, he would have to admit defeat.

  * * *

  At first, she watched the forest, waiting for the first sign of Jake’s return, but after a while that got dull and so she kicked off her shoes and sat down in the open doorway, gazing around the plateau instead, watching the grass and the few spring wild flowers that had already blossomed bend under the gentle whisper of the breeze.

  But none of that made time move any more quickly. It seemed to have come to a standstill, and she told herself that it was only because her watch had stopped working. When you couldn’t see the minutes change, they seemed to drag. She remembered a day last winter when the newsroom clock had gone on the blink and everybody had joked about not knowing whether they’d put in eight hours or eighteen without its pulsing digital face to read.

  But it did seem as if Jake had been gone quite a while. How far would he push this nonsense, anyway? She began to think about what excuse he’d offer when he had to come back and face her, and gradually she decided that only one had any possibilities at all.

  All right, he’d say in a brusque, no-nonsense voice, I misjudged where we came down. This isn’t the Askara Wilderness at all. There’s a road just beyond those trees and, surprise, surprise, Kadar is an easy couple of miles away and you won’t mind just going for that brief stroll with me, will you, Dorian?

  She smiled. ‘Really, Jake,’ she said into the silence.

  Her voice seemed loud, almost unnatural, an alien presence intruding on the warm air, and she felt a faint stir of uneasiness. What a strange place this was, this deserted sea of grass. There wasn’t any sign of life out there, not even a bird or an insect.

  And the silence. It was so total. So complete. So—so penetrating.

  Jake would probably tell her there was no such thing, that the phrase was—what had he called it? An oxymoron. But how else could you describe such quiet? It was penetrating. She could hear it drumming in her ears, feel the heaviness of it in each breath she took.

  If only Jake would come back.

  Dorian caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Just so she could tell him what she thought of him, of course. That was why she wanted to see him come striding across the meadow, so she could look him straight in the eye and say, Jake Prince, you damned fool, don’t you think you’ve…?

  What was that?

  Her heart leaped like a frightened rabbit, lodging somewhere between her throat and her breasts. Something was out there. She’d heard it, a sound, a low sound, like—like…

  ‘Jake?’ she whispered.

  She waited, pulse thudding, but there was only silence. That terrible, unnatural silence. It took all her courage to lean forward and peer cautiously out of the door. But there was nothing to see. Of course there wasn’t. There was nothing out there but grass. The endless grass, stretching to the dark, dark trees.

  Dorian wrapped her arms around herself.

  ‘You’re playing straight into his hands,’ she muttered to herself. If she kept this up, she’d be a basket case by the time Jake returned, and that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He’d stalked off and left her here because she hadn’t fallen for his silly stories; he had to be counting on her going to pieces while he was gone, then doing something ridiculous when he reappeared, something she would never be able to live down.

  She blew out her breath. What she had to do was concentrate on something else. On—on what had happened so far. Jake had said she couldn’t write about their flight, but who was he to give orders? This whole thing would make terrific copy. The mysterious flight. The forced landing. And Jake. Jake would make the best copy of all.

  Did he really think she couldn’t write about him just because he’d refused to give her any information about himself? A smug little smile curled across Dorian’s mouth. She knew enough about the enigmatic Mr Prince to make WorldWeek’s readers forget their morning coffee.

  Jake Prince, the arrogant, opinionated mystery-man of the Barovnian delegation, spent the morning alone with this reporter. Although his relationship with Jack Alexander, the man who may well be the next Barovnian abdhan, is not clear, it is obvious that he has the power to influence many of the policies the abdhan will…

  And he knew something. Something big. She was sure of that. He was hiding a secret, the kind that would make a name for the journalist who unearthed it, and she was determined to be the one who did.

  Dorian frowned. It wouldn’t be easy, though. Jake had said he’d tell her nothing, and he didn’t strike her as the sort of man who ever went back on his word. He was harsh, he was hard. He was insolent and cold and totally unapproachable, but she couldn’t imagine him saying something and not following through…

  And he’d asked her to go away with him, a lifetime ago, before he’d known who she was or where she was going. What would have happened if she’d said yes? Would he have given up his role—whatever it was—in the delegation for a night with her? Would they have walked along the beach in the moonlight? Would he have taken her in his arms and kissed her and kissed her until they sank down into the sand, until…?

  Oh, God!

  There it was again, that sound. Dorian felt the blood draining down to her toes. There was definitely someone out there, just as Jake had said. Why had she ever thought he’d made the whole thing up? He wasn’t a man who played get-even games: if he were, she’d still be standing at the airport, trying to figure out how to tell her bo
ss she’d been blackballed from the flight to Barovnia.

  The sound came again, carried on the breeze, this time accompanied by a metallic clank, like a bell pealing mournfully in hell.

  Dorian moaned, jammed her fist against her lips, and scooted deeper into the plane. Whoever was out there was coming closer. And that sound—that pitiful, keening sound, was enough to—to…

  Her shoulders hit the wall, and she turned her face to it. ‘Jake,’ she whispered, ‘Jake, please…’

  There was a scrabbling sound at the door, and she swung towards it, her fists upraised in defence and terror in her heart…

  It was Jake, Jake silhouetted in the doorway. She uttered a sob and flew to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, savouring the comfort of his embrace as his arms closed around her.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded. His voice hoarsened with concern. ‘Are you hurt? What happened?’

  She shook her head as she burrowed deeper into his arms. ‘No,’ she said, her voice shaky and muffled against his shoulder. ‘I’m all right now.’ She could hear the steady thud-thud of his heart, smell the sunlight and the meadow grasses in his scent, and she knew suddenly that she had never in her life felt this safe before.

  He held her for a long moment, and then he clasped her shoulders, drew back, and looked into her face.

  ‘I shouldn’t have left you,’ he said grimly. ‘Hell. I knew it the minute I—’

  ‘It was my fault,’ she said breathlessly as she peered past him. ‘I should have believed you. Oh, Jake, there’s someone—there’s someone…’ She went stiff in his arms.

  ‘Dorian? What…?’

  A black and white cow stepped delicately out of the trees and into the meadow, mooing plaintively to the sound of the brass bell that hung from its neck.

  Suddenly, all Dorian’s pent-up rage came tumbling out. Her boss had humiliated her, Jake had humiliated her, and now this—this stupid beast had finished the job.

  She drew a deep breath and wrenched free of him.

  ‘You—you rat,’ she spat. ‘You worthless bastard. You—you…’