Cordina's Royal Family Collection

by Nora Roberts

  “I didn’t want to disturb you. In any case, I rather liked just wandering.”

  Why, he’s nervous, she realized. It might have pleased her in some secret place if she hadn’t discovered she was nervous herself. It was the meeting, she told herself. No, it was Bennett. It was foolish to deny it.

  “Do you work here often?”

  “When necessary. It’s often more convenient to work out of my office at home.” He didn’t want to talk about the museum. Bennett dug his hands deeper in his pockets. Since when had he had trouble talking to a woman? Since Hannah, he thought wryly, and tried again. “Hannah—”

  The knock on the door had him biting off an oath. Bennett opened the door for Janine and the coffee tray. The pot was silver, Hannah noted, while the cups were violet bone china edged in gold.

  “Yes, just set it down there, Janine. I’ll see to it.”

  “Yes, sir.” She set it down on the table in front of the lounge then curtsied.

  Aware he’d been terse, Bennett smiled at her. “Thank you, Janine. It smells wonderful.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.” The door closed behind her with a discreet click.

  “Looks like we’re in luck.” Bennett lifted the pot and poured. “These little pastries are from the restaurant downstairs. They’re wonderful. Cream?”

  “Yes, thank you. No sugar.” How polite we are, she thought, as the tension began to spread from her neck to her shoulders. Like two strangers on a blind date.

  “Will you come sit over here if I promise to behave?”

  Though he said it lightly, Hannah heard the strain. She lowered her gaze to her hands. He couldn’t know it was shame and not shyness. “Of course.” Rising, she moved over and joined him on the lounge. She lifted her coffee while he left his alone.

  “Hannah, I apologize for my behavior the other night. It’s no wonder you were offended.”

  “Oh, please, don’t.” With a distress even her training couldn’t smother, she set her cup down and started to rise. His hand reached for hers and held her still. “I don’t want an apology.” Fighting for control, she forced herself to look at him. “I wasn’t offended, really. I was just—”

  “Frightened then? That’s just as inexcusable.”

  “No—yes.” Which answer was the right one? In the end, she gave up. “Bennett, the truest thing I can say to you is that no one has ever confused me so well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment, but a complaint.”

  “Hannah, thank God you’re back.” Laughing, he pulled both her hands to his lips. When she stiffened, he released them but continued to smile.

  “Friends?”

  Still wary, she nodded. “I’d like to be.”

  “Then friends it is.” Satisfied the first hurdle was successfully negotiated, Bennett sat back. He would wait and be a great deal more cautious before attempting the second. “What did you like best about the museum?”

  She didn’t trust him. No, Hannah was far too good at game playing not to know when one was afoot. “The airy, unrestricted atmosphere, I think. Too often museums are solemn, serious places. Oh, I did see another of your ancestor’s paintings. The one of the sea. It was stunning.”

  “One of my favorites.” He was careful not to touch her again. “I was tempted to keep it locked in my room, all to myself, but . . .” With a shrug he picked up his cup. “It didn’t seem fair.”

  “And you are fair,” she murmured, knowing she’d used him.

  “I try to be,” he returned, knowing he would use fair means or foul to win her. “Hannah, you ride, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ride with me tomorrow morning. It has to be early as the rest of my day is full, but it’s been a long time since I had any company on a ride.”

  “I’m not sure I can. Eve—”

  “Will be busy with Marissa until ten,” Bennett finished.

  How she would love a ride. An hour of freedom and movement. “Yes, but I’ve promised to go with her to the Center. She has appointments there at eleven.”

  “We’ll be back by then if you’re willing to start out early.” He wasn’t willing to lose the opportunity. In her eyes he saw hesitation and pressed his advantage. “Come, Cordina’s at its best in the morning on horseback.”

  “All right then.” It was impulse, she knew, but she could use an hour of relaxation.

  In a matter of days, she would meet with Deboque. Hannah lifted her coffee again and sipped. Or she would be dead.

  Chapter 6

  He hadn’t lied. Hannah had already thought Cordina beautiful, but in the early morning it was exquisite. With the dawn light, Cordina reminded Hannah of a young girl dressing for her first ball. The colors were soft, shimmering. Pinks and roses and misty blues still gathered to the east as they got mounted.

  Settling into her own saddle, Hannah eyed Bennett’s Dracula with a mixture of envy and anxiety. Her father’s stables included some of the finest horseflesh in Britain, but he had nothing to compare with the black stallion. He looked fast and reckless and just a bit angry. Even as she imagined herself on his back, she could also picture Bennett being thrown.

  “A mount like that would have a mind of his own,” she commented when the old groom stepped back from the prince.

  “Of course.” Bennett steadied the stallion as he side-stepped. Then, misunderstanding her, he smiled in reassurance. “Your Quixote’s strong, but quite the gentleman. Brie often rides him when she’s here.”

  Hannah only lifted a brow, recognizing the soothing words for what they were. “Thank you, sir. It eases my mind to know you’ve given me a lady’s mount.”

  He thought he caught a trace of sarcasm, but when he looked at her he saw only calm eyes and a polite smile. “I thought we’d ride to the sea.”

  “I’d like that.”

  With a nod, Bennett turned his horse and started off at a gentle trot. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes, thank you.” As she settled into the easy rhythm, Hannah tried not to yearn for a wild gallop. “It was kind of you to invite me. I’m told your morning rides are sacred.”

  He grinned at her, pleased that she sat the horse well and confidently. “It’s often true that I need an hour on horseback before I can be civil. Still, there are times I prefer company.”

  That hadn’t been true lately. Since Deboque’s release he felt he could never stretch his arms out without bumping a guard. And still nothing. His eyes clouded, as much with impatience as with anger. He wanted Deboque to move. He relished the thought of being able to deal with him personally, and finally. Instinctively he touched a hand to his shoulder where a bullet had entered. Yes, he would relish it.

  The look in his eyes made her uneasy. There was something to watch for and defend against there. The man beside her was not the easygoing, easy loving prince she’d come to expect. Whatever, whoever he thought of seemed to communicate itself to his mount for Dracula shied nervously. She saw how easily he controlled the stallion, only a flexing of muscle. He could be kind or harsh, gentle or rough. Her own palm grew damp on the reins.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “What?” He glanced over. For an instant the look was still there, hard and dark enough to make her tense. Then it was gone and he was smiling again. There was no Deboque this morning, Bennett told himself. He was sick of having every aspect of his life and his family’s lives clouded by one name. “No, nothing. Tell me what you do at home, Hannah. I can’t picture you there.”

  “We live quietly in London.” It was partially the truth. She wondered why she thought of it as partially a lie. “I do a great deal of my work at home, which makes it convenient for me to keep house for my father.”

  “Your work,” he repeated. “Your essays?” He was leading her along the easiest route, where the incline was gentle.

  “Yes.” Again, there was a twinge of discomfort. “I hope to have them ready for publication in a year or two.”


  “I’d like to read them.”

  She shot him a look of surprise, then almost immediately felt her muscles tighten. It had nothing to do with fear. Even if he’d demanded to see her work, she had enough that would satisfy him. No, it wasn’t fear but a certainty that if she had to continue to lie to him much longer, she would be physically ill.

  “You’re welcome to, of course, but I don’t think my writing would be of great interest to you.”

  “You’re wrong. You’re of great interest to me.”

  She looked down, but not in the shyness he thought he saw. Once again it was shame. “It’s lovely here,” she managed after a moment. “Do you ride this way often?”

  She wouldn’t allow him to get too close. Bennett fought back frustration and reminded himself he was in for the long haul. “No, actually I haven’t been this way in quite a while.” When they reached the top of a rise, he stopped. Her gelding was content to busy himself with the grass alongside the path. Beside her, Dracula nearly shivered with energy. She thought she felt the same impatience from Bennett.

  “A little distance changes things,” he murmured.

  Following his gaze, she looked back at the palace. From here it looked like an exquisite child’s toy, a magnificent dollhouse a pampered child might find near the tree on Christmas morning. To the east was the sea, still hidden from view by the cliffs and trees and barely heard. Like the palace, it hardly seemed real.

  “Do you need to get away from it so badly?” Hannah asked him quietly.

  “Sometimes.” It no longer surprised him that she read his moods. With a hand firm on the reins, he controlled the stallion and continued to look at his home. “I had my time at Oxford, and at sea. When I was away, I missed Cordina so badly it was like an ache. In the past six months, past year, I’ve felt a restlessness, a waiting for something to happen.”

  They both thought of Deboque.

  “Often in England, especially at this time of year, I’ll complain about the cold and the damp.” She shifted in the saddle then smiled as she thought of her home. “I’ll look out the window and think I’d almost sell my soul for a week of warm, sunny days. Then, when I’m away, I begin to miss the fog and the mists and the smells of London.”

  They began to walk the horses again while she cast her mind back to England. “There’s a man who sells roasted chestnuts just around the corner from our house. You can buy a little bag and warm your hands on them and smell them, just smell them long before you ever eat them.” Remembering made her smile again, but she had no idea how wistfully. “Sometimes I’d wonder how it could be Christmastime anywhere without roasted chestnuts.”

  “I didn’t know you missed England so much.”

  Nor had she until that moment. “One always misses home. Our hearts are always there.” And what she was, all that she had done, had always been for England first.

  “I’ve often wondered how difficult it was for Reeve,” Bennett said. The sounds of the sea became louder as they moved their way east. “Although he and Brie spend nearly six months every year at their farm in America. I know for Brie it’s as much home as Cordina is.”

  “For many, real contentment comes with acclimation.” Hadn’t it been so for her, all of her adult life?

  “It’s a great deal harder for Eve. She has only a few weeks with her family in America.”

  “Some loves are greater than others. Some needs stronger.” She was just beginning to truly understand it. “Eve would live anywhere as long as Alexander was with her. And I think the same is true for your brother-in-law.”

  Yes, it was true. Perhaps that was a part of the restlessness in him. Over the last few years he’d seen how beautiful, how strong, real commitment, real feelings could be. Somehow they always seemed so remote from him, so unattainable. Now there was Hannah.

  “For love, could you turn your back on England?”

  Hannah caught her first glimpse of the sea as they climbed higher. She concentrated on that, but saw, in her mind’s eyes, the twisting charm of the Thames.

  Could she? So much of her life, so much of her duty was bound with England. Even her current assignment had been as much to protect her country from Deboque as it had been to ensure the safety of the Royal Family of Cordina.

  “I don’t know. You especially would understand how strong some ties can be.”

  The trees thinned. Those that remained were bent and battered from the wind that swept in from the sea. The path grew rougher so that Bennett put himself between the edge and Hannah. Her mouth twitched at the move, but she said nothing. He could hardly know that she was capable of riding down the path pell-mell without saddle or reins. Besides, she found herself savoring the unaccustomed feeling of being protected.

  Without the trees to break its power, the wind swirled from the sea to the top of the rise, carrying traces of salt. Even Hannah’s tightly pinned hair couldn’t resist it completely. Wispy tendrils escaped to dance around her cheeks. As she watched, a gull caught the current and glided peacefully up on a stream of air. Another, far below, skimmed the water looking for food.

  “It’s breathtaking.” She relaxed enough to sigh.

  He saw what was always in her heart, but which showed so rarely in her eyes. Her love of adventure, of power and of risk. It made her beautiful, arousing, mysterious. The need to reach out for her was so strong, he had to tighten his fingers on the reins to keep them still.

  “I wanted to bring you here, but I worried that the height might bother you.”

  “No, I love it.” Her horse shied a bit and she controlled him with the ease of long experience. “There are so many beautiful places in the world, but so few special ones. This is a special one. I think I could . . .” She trailed off as the full impact struck her. “This is the scene from the painting. There’s no storm brewing, but this is it, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” He had no idea that her recognition of it would mean so much. Nor did he know what to do with the sudden, inescapable realization that he was in love with her. Completely. Unalterably.

  He tossed his head back as the wind blew his hair into his eyes. He wanted a clear look at her, at this, perhaps the most important moment in his life.

  She sat straight in the saddle, her eyes dark with appreciation of the scene spread out before and below them. Her profile was sharp, sculpted. The plain brown riding shirt and pants did nothing to enhance her pale skin. But when he looked at her, he saw the most beautiful, the most precious thing he’d ever found. And for the first time in his life, he had no words to tell her.

  “Hannah.” He reached out a hand and waited.

  She turned. He was the most magnificent man she’d ever seen. More breathtaking than the view, more dangerous than a plunge to the rocks below. He sat on the huge stallion, straight as a soldier, as heartbreaking as a poet. In his eyes she saw both passion and compassion, both need and generosity.

  Her heart betrayed her and was lost to him even before she could tell herself it couldn’t be. As duty warred with emotion, she let her hand join with his.

  “I know what you think I am.”

  “Bennett—”

  “No.” His fingers tightened on hers. “You’re not far wrong. I could lie to you and promise to change, but I won’t lie or promise.”

  Before she could stop herself, she softened. Only for this moment, she promised herself. There was magic, if only for the moment.

  “Bennett, I don’t want you to change.”

  “I meant what I said, though I said it badly the other night. I do want you, Hannah.” Like her, he looked out to sea. “I also understand that it would be difficult for you to believe that I’ve never said that to another woman and meant it in the same way.”

  But she did believe him. It was thrilling, terrifying and forbidden, but she did. For one glorious moment, she let herself hope. Then she remembered who she was. Duty was first. Always.

  “Please, believe me, if I could give you what you want, I would. It’s just not pos
sible.” She drew her hand away because the contact was making her weak, making her dream.

  “I’ve always believed anything is possible if you work hard enough for it.”

  “No, some things remain out of reach.” She turned her horse away from the sea. “We should get back.”

  Before she could move, he’d backed up enough to cover the hands on her reins with his own. His arm brushed her arm, his leg, her leg. His face was close, too close, as their mounts stood in opposite directions.

  “Tell me what you feel,” he demanded. The patience was gone, dissolved in need and frustration. “Give me that much, dammit.”

  “Regret.” As she spoke, the word shimmered with it.

  He released her hands only to cup the back of her neck. “Tell me again how you feel,” he murmured, then leaned toward her.

  The kiss was like a whisper, soft, seductive, sultry. Hannah tightened her hands on the reins, then let them go limp as emotion swamped her. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, so encompassing, so heady, so right. The wind ribboned around them. The sea crashed below. For a moment, just one moment, all rational thought fled, leaving only desires behind.

  “Bennett.” She only murmured his name as she started to draw away. He held her, firm, insistent.

  “Another moment.”

  He needed it. He needed every scrap she would throw him. Never had he felt the desire to beg for what a woman could give or withhold. It wasn’t just the passion he wanted; it was more than the physical. He wanted her heart with a desperation he’d never felt before.

  It was that desperation that made him keep the kiss gentle, that made him draw back long before his craving for her was satisfied. If he wanted her heart, he would have to move slowly. His Hannah was delicate and shy.

  “No regrets, Hannah,” he said quietly, then smiled. “I won’t hurt you, or push you further than you’re ready for. Trust me. That’s really all I want for now.”

  She wanted to weep. He was giving her a kindness, a sensitivity she didn’t deserve. Lies were all she’d given him. Lies were all she would continue to give. To keep him alive, she reminded herself as the tears burned at the back of her eyes. To keep him and the people he loved safe and unharmed.