Determined to Protect, Forbidden to Love

by Beverly Barton

  “But I do know the princess. Perhaps you need to take the time to know her. You have the same father.”

  The same father? Nausea swirled in Rory’s stomach. She had another brother! She thought of all the years that she’d seen Otto nearby in the neighborhood. Had he been spying on her and her mother all these years?

  “You are not listening, old man. If Olivier cannot father an heir, then your great-nephew—with our flesh and blood—will one day rule Estaire!”

  “How do you propose to achieve that?”

  “I’ll be accompanying Olivier tomorrow. He and Princess Penelope have an appointment at an in vitro fertilization clinic Thursday morning. I am hopeful that this clinic will aid them in their desire to have an heir. If not, I intend to assist the process. The one advantage of being my older brother’s secretary is that I am often entrusted to handle errands of the most delicate nature.”

  Rory was frozen in place, her legs falling asleep. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was afraid to leave.

  Otto slowly toured the perennial border, stopping before a Victorian gazing ball. Rory hoped he couldn’t see her hunched behind the shrub in the ball’s reflective surface. “Prince August was very good to you. And this is the way you repay him? By scheming to lay claim to the throne and hiding your identity from your own brother?”

  Renald shrugged, his face stony with resentment. “Prince August had no compunctions about luring my mother into his bed. She was married. The end justifies the means.”

  “That’s what EÉmilie thought when she embarked on an affair with Prince August after his wife died. She wanted to give her husband the one thing he desired most—a child. EÉmilie did not tell Prince August the truth until after her husband’s death—she thought you needed a father’s guidance. Prince August never should have told you the truth.”

  Rory had heard more than enough. Renald hadn’t said that he’d hired the assassin, but she was willing to bet he had stolen her necklace because he believed her unworthy of it. She willed feeling back into her legs as she inched backward along the walkway on her haunches. Pins and needles stabbed her numb feet. She bumped into an iron shepherd’s hook that suspended ceramic wind chimes.

  “What was that?” she heard Renald say. “Are you expecting someone?”

  Otto’s answer was lost to her.

  Rory grasped the shepherd’s hook and tried to stand. Pain shot up her legs as her blood rushed back to cramped limbs.

  Fear scattered through her like a deck of cards tossed to the ground. She’d managed to stumble to the gate when she heard Renald cry out, “Princess!”

  Rory ran down the driveway toward the street. She needed help.

  The man came out of nowhere. His arm circled her throat, choking off her breath. She smelled the sweat of his body and his mouthwash-tainted breath as he jabbed the gun roughly into her bruised temple and whispered into her ear, “It’s time we had a talk, Princess.”

  RORY GRABBED THE ARM choking her, but it felt as in flexible as a steel bar. What was she going to do now?

  “Don’t scream. I just want to talk.”

  “Let go of me!” she gasped, twisting her neck an inch so she could see him. She saw long, blond hair and a sunburned nose. Claude Dupont. He dragged her into the deep shadows beneath the umbrella of a catalpa tree.

  Had Renald seen Claude grab her? Even if he had, he was more likely rubbing his hands together with glee than rushing to her aid.

  She was on her own. Rory forced herself to relax. Struggling would only enrage Claude further. She tried to assess her surroundings. Maybe a neighbor would notice she was being held against her will. “You’re Marielle’s brother. I’m so sorry about your sister.”

  She cried out as the barrel of the gun thrust against her bandaged temple.

  Anger reverberated from his hard-muscled body. “She died because of you—because of him. She didn’t want to live without him.” His voice choked with grief. “She told me that Laurent dumped her, and I let her cry on her girlfriend’s shoulder instead of mine! I should have stayed with her!”

  Even though she was terrified, Rory felt enormous sympathy for his pain. She’d give anything if she could turn back the clock and prevent her mother from sitting in the swing that day. “Is that why you left me the clippings? You hoped that I would think he had caused her to kill herself and I would refuse to marry him?”

  “I couldn’t let you marry him. He was Marielle’s.”

  Tears choked her at the truth of Claude’s statement. Laurent was Marielle’s. She’d seen the sadness in his eyes and heard the deep regret when he spoke of her.

  “He still loves her. Misses her,” she admitted painfully. “You shot at us the other night.”

  “I wanted to kill him. He doesn’t deserve to live.”

  Rory swallowed hard. “You stabbed Laurent’s date in the bathroom, didn’t you?” Claude wouldn’t let any woman take his sister’s place. “How will you justify killing me?”

  “I’m—” Claude broke off at the sound of tires squealing around the street corner. Rory prayed that it was a police car and this would all end peacefully. But it was a limo. Oh, God! As it rocked to a halt outside Otto’s house she spotted Heinrich in the front passenger seat.

  Had Heinrich seen her? She saw his hand reach inside his suit jacket for his gun.

  The front passenger door and the rear door flew open simultaneously. Heinrich braced himself behind the door for cover, his weapon drawn. “Release her, Dupont.”

  “Move a finger and she dies,” Claude warned.

  A cold blade of terror sliced through Rory as Laurent stepped out of the limo and away from the door. His jaw was set firmly and his inky eyes were calm and determined. He was unarmed.

  Rory screamed. His face told her what he was going to do—nobly sacrifice his life for hers. She couldn’t let him. “No, Laurent! Don’t!”

  “Claude,” he said with quiet authority, “the princess has done you no harm. Killing her will not bring you peace. If it is retribution that you require, then punish me. I never wanted to hurt Marielle. I loved her, but I was not free to marry her and I respected her by telling her the truth. I bear the guilt of her death with me every day.”

  Claude’s gun hand trembled.

  Rory prayed that Laurent was reaching him. She had seen many sides of Laurent since she had met him, but the courage he displayed now, the dignity and the compassion that he offered Marielle’s brother, made her realize how much she loved this honorable man. She knew she would always love him, whether he could give his heart to her or not.

  Laurent took a cautious step forward. “Is this what you truly want, Claude? Your parents have lost one child. Consider the pain they will experience at losing their only son, too. No one has been harmed. It is not too late to stop yourself from traveling down the wrong path.”

  “I do this for them.”

  Rory was aware of the precise second when she knew Claude would shoot Laurent. Instinctively she curled her fingers into a fist and threw up her left arm, ramming her elbow into Claude’s arm, hoping to knock the gun from his hand or at least deflect his aim. Pain jarred through her arm as she made contact. The gun went off.

  Noise exploded in her ears.

  Laurent launched himself toward them. Toward the gun. Her heart ricocheted in her breast as she rammed her right elbow back, intending to dig into Claude’s ribs—only she hit him in the shoulder. He was falling and dragging her down with him. Had he shot himself?

  Laurent went for the gun, deflecting it downward with one hand while his other hand grasped Claude’s wrist and twisted it inward. Rory tried to squirm away. Claude was on top of her. The gun discharged again, and Rory panicked. Was Laurent hit?

  Suddenly she was jerked up and tossed out of harm’s way.

  She landed on the grass with a whoof, the air knocked from her lungs. Laurent had twisted Claude’s arm behind his back and had him pinned facedown.

  The gun lay on the
grass. Heinrich started for it, but Renald, suddenly appearing with the shepherd’s hook in hand, beat him to it. Otto hurried toward Renald.

  Rory screamed, “Stop him. Stop Renald! He’s my brother, and he wants to kill me!”

  Renald’s fingers curled around the gun. His frank blue eyes—a deeper blue than Olivier’s—met hers. “Non, little sister. I helped save you. I tripped Dupont with this hook.”

  “He did. I saw him,” Otto insisted.

  Heinrich grimly leveled his weapon at Renald’s chest. “Ja. We’ll debate it once you put the gun down.”

  Police sirens wailed in the distance like the insistent screeching of gulls.

  Renald released the gun—and the hook—and rose stiffly. Rory saw shame and contrition in Otto’s age-spotted face. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest and told herself she was not going to throw up. Laurent had Claude subdued and no one appeared to be wounded.

  She was overwhelmed. She had no idea what the truth was anymore. Who had hired the assassin? Who had stolen her necklace? Who could she believe? She pillowed her head on her knees and studied Laurent’s grief-stricken face.

  She felt ten years older.

  LAURENT KEPT HIS ARM anchored around Rory as she answered the police detective’s questions in the living room of the house on Playa del Norte Street. Concerned that the press would have a field day with this story if any details leaked, Laurent had summoned Odette to manage the media. He’d also called Prince Olivier. Renald’s uncle Otto brought in chairs from the kitchen.

  Rory had told the police that Claude had confessed to attempting to kill Laurent on Monday night. Laurent could feel her trembling. She’d been so brave. He’d come so close to losing her. He was still not past the shock of seeing Claude Dupont holding a gun to her head.

  Nor the shock of discovering that Renald Dartois was Rory’s and Prince Olivier’s half brother. To Laurent’s consternation, Rory had explained that the diamond necklace she’d received as a gift from her father had been stolen from her home a week ago when she had begun her princess lessons. Suspecting that the thief might be working with the assassin, she’d decided to contact Otto who was fluent in German and French to help her order a copy of the necklace that she could use to trick the thief into revealing him or herself.

  “Why did you not mention any of this to me or to your brother?” Laurent demanded testily.

  “Because the thief was obviously a trusted member of the staff of one of you.” She leveled her gaze on Renald. “I didn’t want to create an atmosphere of distrust. To report the theft would have been playing into his hands.”

  Sweat glistened on Renald’s angular features. “I did not take the necklace. Nor did I hire anyone to kill the princess. I have been a loyal servant to the Valcourt family—and to Estaire—all of my life. I have been loyal to you, Olivier. And I realized when Claude Dupont seized the princess that I could be loyal to her, even if it meant that Estaire might one day return to Falkenberg rule.”

  Olivier drummed his fingers upon his thigh, obviously agitated. “All these years we have worked together. Why did you not tell me you were my brother?”

  Renald lowered his head shamefully. “Your father did not wish to dishonor my mother’s reputation or his own. You were his legitimate heir. It was enough that he wanted me in the palace with him and that I knew the truth.”

  Olivier clasped Renald’s shoulder. “It’s important to me, and I believe it’s important to Charlotte Aurora that we know we have a brother. My father was a rigid man. Too rigid, I think.”

  Rory felt her heart warm slightly for Renald. She knew exactly how it felt to have a parent who was supposed to love you make a decision that left you feeling as if you were inferior. Renald hadn’t resented Olivier’s position. He’d faithfully served his brother as his personal secretary. And although his back-up plan to ensure that Estaire had a Valcourt heir was misguided, it demonstrated a keen desire to protect the country that he loved.

  Rory wouldn’t reveal what she’d overheard. She’d grant him the dignity of confessing to Olivier in private.

  She slipped from the buffering support of Laurent’s arm and crossed the cozy living room to kiss Renald’s cheek. Then she kissed Olivier. “I’m thrilled to have two brothers. You can take turns telling me what’s best for me, and I can take turns telling you that I can figure it out for myself.” Gratitude swelled in a hot lump in her throat. “But I appreciate the fact that you want to protect me.”

  Her remark won strained smiles from both Renald and Olivier. Laurent shifted awkwardly in his chair.

  Rory sniffed, trying to pull herself together. Men were always so uncomfortable with emotion! Besides, she was not sure that Renald was completely trustworthy. “How did your uncle come to live in La Jolla?”

  “I’ll answer that,” Otto volunteered from his chair near the entrance to the kitchen. “It was your father’s doing, Princess. He wanted someone to keep an eye on your mother and you. I sent him monthly reports.”

  Rory thought of all the times she’d encountered Otto walking in the neighborhood or down at the beach, and his bi-weekly visits to the Book Nook. “All these years?”

  Otto nodded, his watery gray eyes reflecting remorse. “After his death I continued to give the reports to Renald. They were always glowing, Princess. Your father was very proud.”

  Yes, Rory thought wryly, considering the other meaning of the word. Too proud to bend. “Did my mother know?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Laurent addressed the police detectives. “Did Claude Dupont hire the assassin?”

  “He may confess to it when we interrogate him,” Detective Rodriguez, who seemed to be in charge, told her.

  “If he’d hired a hit man, why would Claude try to shoot us, then?” Rory asked.

  “Frustration, most likely. The accidents the hit man had arranged weren’t achieving the desired results. Dupont was getting impatient. He wanted the job done and he didn’t care about getting caught, which is why we found fingerprints on the fence and on the envelope.”

  “Do you think Claude stole my necklace, too?”

  Detective Rodriguez shook his head. “No. My guess is it was the hit man. This kind of killer searches a home thoroughly looking for opportunities.” He checked his notes. “You told me the necklace was stolen on Sunday while you took your cat to the vet. Or sometime on Monday when the house was overrun by assorted staff.”

  “Could the hit man be a bodyguard, Heinrich?” Laurent asked gravely.

  “Anything is possible if one is offered enough money,” Heinrich admitted. “I will make some enquiries.”

  “I do not believe the stylist is involved,” Odette contributed from her post near the living room window where she was monitoring the activity in the street. “I accompanied her at all times. No one is to be left alone with a royal family member’s personal belongings. Ms. Allard’s references are impeccable.”

  Detective Rodriguez noted the information. “We’ll need contact info for the catering company and the butler. We’ll check them out.”

  Renald produced a personal digital assistant from the pocket of his gray suit. “I have the information here.”

  Rory’s heart pinched at the prospect that the grandfatherly butler could be the hit man. “Pierce is the one who located my vitamins after I couldn’t find them.”

  “Dupont’s been sloppy. We may find something to link us to the hit man once we discover where he’s been holing up,” Detective Rodriguez said confidently.

  Laurent rose and took Rory’s hand. “You’re staying at the hotel until the assassin is arrested. No arguments.”

  Rory caved beneath the concern rife in his eyes and the tantalizing promise of protection in his strong fingers. The same fingers that had stripped a loaded gun from a crazed man’s hand. When Laurent looked at her like she was his princess, she wanted to be near him tonight and always.

  Even if her heart whispered that he didn’t love her.

&nbs
p; AFTER THE POLICE were finished with their questions, Rory, Laurent and Olivier were escorted to waiting limos with their heads covered to avoid the cameras. To satisfy the journalists lusting for a story, Detective Rodriguez made a brief statement. Then Otto was interviewed about the gunman’s identity, but claimed he had never met the man. He referred to Rory as a friend who had dropped by, but refused to give her name.

  Rory gratefully accepted the room that was prepared for her in her brother’s suite. She spent the rest of the day talking privately with Olivier and Renald. Although she still felt miles apart from their world, a fragile bond was forming between them, a sense of belonging that she hoped would grow stronger once she visited Estaire. They had an early dinner as her brothers were taking a private jet the next morning. Over dessert, Rory was relieved when Renald put down his fork and told Olivier of his plan to ensure that Princess Penelope gave birth to an heir.

  Olivier’s shock was apparent. “You would have done that for us?”

  Renald nodded. “I would have considered it my duty. I will understand if you wish me to resign my position.”

  Olivier sighed. “I will need to give the matter more thought. In fact, I am beginning to reevaluate several of our father’s decisions.” He paused, his gaze resting pensively on Rory, “Including the marriage treaty with Ducharme. There is no question that the union would be beneficial. But if it alienates one further from one’s family, I am not convinced that it is worth the sacrifice.”

  Rory’s heart started to thud. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “Really?” she squeaked.

  Olivier covered her hand with his. “I do not wish to deprive you of your right to choose your destiny, ma petite soeur. If something were to happen to me, I am confident that Renald would assist you in every way possible.”

  Renald smiled cautiously. “You can count on it.”

  Rory tried to grasp the thought that she could walk away from Laurent now if she wished. It was the only thing she’d wanted since she’d found out about the ridiculous treaty. But things had changed. Her heart had changed. Did she want to walk away? Could she?