Romancing the Crown Series

by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)

  Yes, Marcus definitely liked her spirit. She seemed like the right one for his often all-too-somber nephew. Someone to keep Max on his toes. The fact that she was beautiful only enhanced the match.

  "Yes. Unless, of course, you wish to wear it." By his very intonation, he succeeded in making the conversation feel almost intimate. "I want you to be comfortable."

  He might want it, but it wasn't going to happen, Cara thought. At bottom, she would always be the orphaned girl whose mother didn't want her. That sort of person hardly fit in with royalty.

  But because she was a guest of the crown and it would be deemed impolite to refuse, Cara forced a smile into her eyes.

  "I would love to join you for dinner, Your Highness."

  Marcus clapped his hands together. There was nothing he liked more than a gathering of his closest, most trusted people, with a dash of fresh blood thrown in.

  "Wonderful. Dinner is at seven. Max will come for you, won't you Max?"

  "I'd have to," Max explained, in case she was going to say something about finding her own way around. "As I recall, there are a host of corridors and secret passageways in the palace, leaving a great many ways for a person to get lost."

  "Even one who tracks dangerous men for a living," the king added with a wink.

  The man could easily charm birds out of their tress, Cara thought. Not unlike his nephew.

  * * *

  Once they were at the palace and Cara was led off to her room, Max asked the king for a private audience. He wanted to talk about "Weber."

  The king refused to even acknowledge that Max had asked a question at first. Instead he invited his nephew to come with him to see his garden. As interested in plant life and foliage as he was in translating the Dead Sea Scrolls, Max still found he had no choice but to follow his uncle and king.

  In the center of the hedge configuration that he took great pride in, Marcus turned to his nephew and abruptly said, "His name is not Kevin Weber, it is—"

  "Jalil Salim, yes, I already know that." Surprised, pleased, his uncle raised a questioning brow for details. "I had my grandfather run 'Weber's' fingerprints through the international terrorist database. It kicked out Salim's name. The man has a staggering list of offenses." He could see why the King would want to see the man safely put away where he was no longer a threat to the Sebastianis and Montebello.

  Marcus nodded. He'd been apprised that his nephew had looked Bill Ryker up when he had gone to live in California. "Ah yes, your grandfather. I only met him that one time, at your parents' wedding. He struck me as a fine man. To his credit, he raised a wonderful daughter all on his own." Max's grandmother had died when his mother was still a child. "How is he?"

  "Alert, glad to be productive again."

  Marcus knew more about the matter, knew that Max had started an investigative agency and had brought his grandfather in to work with him. "You gave him that."

  Max saw it differently. His grandfather had taught him things he didn't know, had made patience a staple of his life. And given him a sense of family that had been missing when he had lived with his own father.

  "We gave something to each other," Max corrected his uncle.

  Marcus slipped his arm around his nephew's shoulder and laughed. Max was so unaffected, such a pleasure to be around. "Oh, Max, Max, Max, I have truly missed having you around."

  "With all this intrigue surrounding the family, not to mention the palace, I doubt that you really have the time to notice that I'm gone."

  Marcus sighed. Intrigue was the right word. "Oh, I notice all right. I notice. But let us not dwell on that for the moment. You have done well for yourself and I am glad of that." He paused, then slowly approached a subject he had a more personal interest in. "Tell me, am I wrong, or is there some sort of an electrical spark between you and the lady?"

  "I'm not sure what there is between us."

  "Mystery." Marcus nodded sagely, even though his eyes twinkled. "Always a good thing. There should always be mystery between a couple. It keeps them on their toes."

  Max didn't trust his own feelings. They were all too new. "I think you're reading far too much into this, Uncle."

  They differed there. "Haven't you heard? I am a great judge of people. And there is this look in your eyes I have never seen before..."

  "Jet lag," Max interjected.

  How typical of Max to shy away from this. How unlike his father the young man was. Though Antonio had been his own brother, Marcus had never approved of his womanizing ways, his cavalier treatment of Helen. A man took vows before God when he married, pledged his honor and his love. Those things could not taken lightly or shed because of a momentary hormonal reaction.

  "I think not," the king contradicted. "But, I keep you and you must be tired. Refresh yourself. Take a nap before dinner."

  Max saw that the king was beginning to walk back into the palace. "We still haven't really talked."

  Marcus stopped only for a moment. "You already know more than even Tyler told you. And we will talk. Later. I promise." Once more threading his arm around his nephew's shoulders, he ushered him toward the palace. "For now, let me just enjoy having you back."

  Put that way, Max had no choice but to table his questions and follow his uncle's lead.

  * * *

  Nerves danced through Cara like tiny ice skaters with sharpened blades. It was like walking into a new foster home all over again. She could feel all eyes turning toward them.

  Toward her.

  "I feel like a fish out of water," Cara hissed in Max's ear as he escorted her into the dining room. It was beyond anything she could have ever imaged.

  The dining room was the one his uncle used for intimate dinners comprised of only two dozen or so souls rather than the banquet hall, which was reserved for state dinners.

  Max looked at the dress she was wearing. The one that had almost made him forget that the king was waiting for them. The one that had made him want to close the door behind him and skim his hands over her, rememorizing every curve that the long, slinky blue garment emphasized.

  He lowered his head, bringing his lips close to her ear. "Never saw a fish wearing anything like that, in or out of the water."

  The comment could have been nothing more than a flippant remark, or a mildly polite observation. Why did a little thrill rush over her like that? He was a duke, accustomed to empty flattery. The words meant less than nothing.

  They meant everything.

  She'd found the dress laid out for her on the bed when she came out of a bathroom the size of a small movie theater. There had been no one around to ask about the garment's sudden appearance. It seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

  Because she needed something to wear that wouldn't make Max ashamed of her.

  As if that mattered, she told herself.

  But it did.

  It amazed her, when she tried it on, to discover that the dress was the right size. Wearing it, looking at herself in the mirror, she'd felt as if she was a little girl again. A little girl who still believed in magic.

  Cara remembered how many times, as a child, she would pretend that someone was watching out for her. Someone who could magically supply whatever she needed whenever the need arose. It was just like having a fairy godmother.

  There was, however, one thing wrong with the picture. As a child, she'd felt she belonged in such a setting. That it was her due.

  As an adult, she knew differently.

  She was out of her element here. Out of her depth. And with Max, she thought sadly, so out of her league it was painful.

  So what was she doing here, playing the princess. Or duchess as it were?

  She had no satisfactory answer.

  Seeing them enter, the king smiled, broke protocol and rose in deference to the woman on Max's arm. Earlier she'd struck him as pretty. Now he realized he'd been wrong. She wasn't pretty. She was beautiful. And, it appeared, the perfect match for his nephew. He wondered what it would take for Max to reali
ze that.

  "Ah, you have found your way down here at last." He looked around at his other guests. "Everyone, Max has brought someone to our table. I'd like you all to meet Cara Rivers. From America."

  There was a rush of voices, calling out greetings, saying her name. Cara's head spun as she tried to acknowledge everyone, focus on everyone.

  Definitely out of her league, she thought.

  Though she loved the silky feel of the long gown that she had on, she was far more at home in jeans and a button-down blouse. Far more at home behind the wheel of a car, tracking down a bail jumper or worse than attending a dinner party as fine as this. Max, on the other hand, she thought, looked as if he was born in that suit he was wearing.

  To the manor born, she thought. It wasn't just a phrase, it was a truth.

  "You're right, Marcus, she is lovely." A regal-looking woman sitting at the other end of the table smiled warmly at her.

  This had to be Queen Gwendolyn, Cara thought. Unwilling to be taken for the consummate country bumpkin, Cara had used her time alone to quickly research the royal family via the internet.

  A butler behind her pushed her chair in for her and Cara took her seat. A preponderance of utensils flanked her plate, daring her to pick the right one for the right course.

  Oh God, she thought. She was better equipped to choose the right caliber gun to use than she was for this. Now what?

  Chapter 15

  Cara felt the press of Max's knee against hers. A warm shiver undulated through her that took effort to suppress.

  Was he actually picking now to get friendly? Was it a turn-on for him to play sensual games at his uncle's table while his relatives sat, unsuspecting, around the perimeter?

  Holding her breath, she waited for what she assumed was the next step: Max's hand to slip over her knee. Instead he moved his leg against hers a little more firmly. Confused, she glanced toward him.

  His eyes indicated the silverware and then he picked up a small fork on the outer edge and began to eat his salad.

  He wasn't playing hanky-panky, he was giving her silent table etiquette instructions.

  The thought made her smile.

  He was trying not to embarrass her. Either that, a small voice in her head whispered, or himself for bringing her.

  No, she wasn't going to drive herself crazy with doubts now. She'd think about that later. Right now, she had a dinner to address and names to remember. With a slight inclination of her head in mute thanks, she picked up the correct fork just as the man who had been introduced to her as Max's brother, Duke Lorenzo, asked her a question.

  * * *

  "Very subtle of you," she murmured as the music enveloped them and she slipped one hand to Max's shoulder as he took the other and pressed it to his chest.

  Dinner was over and the servants were clearing away the dishes. As coffee and after-dinner cordials were being served, it was time to really socialize. Assailed on both sides with people who were fascinated by what they'd discovered she did for a living, Cara found herself being rescued by Max, who asked her to dance.

  Grateful for the breather and for an excuse to be in his arms, Cara rose from the table and allowed herself to be led off to the dance floor.

  Holding Cara like this just made Max want to take her to his bed. He hardly felt like the same man anymore. All he could think about was her. Being with her, talking to her, inhaling the scent she always wore.

  Making love with her.

  He knew this had to stop, yet he felt powerless to do anything about it.

  Which just made things worse.

  For now, however, because protocol required he be here with her, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment and not wrestle with his thoughts or even think beyond the present.

  "You're going to have to be more specific than that," he told her. Dancing past one of the queen's attendants, he nodded, acknowledging the latter's smile.

  All Cara acknowledged was the woman's very shapely body and her very friendly smile toward Max.

  "The silverware hints. Where I come from, we never had any more than two forks. One, usually." There hadn't always been that much to eat, either. Certainly not seven courses with side dishes arranged in an incredible array that teased the appetite and pleased the eye.

  He thought of the tedious indoctrination process he and his brother had been forced through as children so that they wouldn't prove to be "an embarrassment to the house of Sebastiani."

  "I always found a legion of forks and spoons a nuisance to keep track of." He smiled, remembering. "My mother always said that as long as you don't lower your head and eat off your plate like a starving vulture, you were ahead of the game."

  Cara laughed, unmindful of the fact that her warm breath skimmed his face or that it aroused him. "Sounds like I would have liked your mother."

  He found himself wishing that the two could have met. He had a feeling that Helen Sebastiani would have liked this unorthodox bounty hunter fate had led him to stumble across.

  "Everyone did," he told her. "With the exception of my father."

  She didn't waste time with polite protests that he was probably mistaken, the way some of his far more sophisticated guests might have. She'd seen the underbelly of life and knew a great deal about unhappiness. Life was too short for wasted breath. "Why did he marry her?"

  The reason was as superficial as Max later found his father to be. "Because she was thought to be one of the most beautiful women in the world in her day. My mother was a beauty queen and then a top model. Her face was on every major magazine cover in the world and he claimed to have fallen in love with it."

  How like his father to fall for a two-dimensional image, never taking the woman beneath into account. That was far too troublesome for Duke Antonio, too disturbing. That would have required, Max thought with some bitterness, a heart.

  "He swept her away like a fairy-tale prince—or like a duke, as the case was." Max's jaw became rigid. "Once my father conquered something, he lost interest, went on to more exciting pursuits. It was no different when it came to my mother."

  How sad, Cara thought. No happy endings in this fairy tale. "Why did your mother remain, then?"

  Life was so modern now, people tended to forget what things were like even a mere twenty-five years ago.

  "It's not so easy to get a divorce when a good portion of the world is watching you. Besides, my mother believed in marrying forever." Max danced Cara passed his uncle. The king, dancing with his wife, smiled broadly at them in approval. "And she had two children she knew she would never be allowed to take with her. Two children she would never abandon. She said that my father loved us, but he never spent any time with us. She wanted us to grow up feeling loved. So she stayed and threw herself into charity work to ease the pain."

  Helen Sebastiani sounded like a wonderful woman. "Did it?"

  The tempo slowed and so did he. Desire moved through him like an ever swelling army.

  "She never complained. But I suspect it didn't. There was a pain in her eyes she couldn't mask." He looked down at Cara. He'd said far more than he'd intended, finding her easy to talk to. Talking wasn't a luxury he usually allowed himself. "Why are you asking all these questions about my family?"

  For once, the look she gave him was completely devoid of guile.

  "Because I have no family of my own to talk about." And then the reason that was probably behind his question hit her. "Don't worry." She winked. "This isn't being reprinted in the Trashy Tabloid of the Week."

  Her wink went straight to his gut, wreaking havoc. His hand tightened around hers.

  "Old news anyway." He forced himself to loosen his fingers from about hers. "You look exceptionally beautiful tonight."

  "But?" Cara waited for the inevitable qualification, hoping it wouldn't sting too badly.

  "No 'but." ' Try as he might, he didn't quite understand her. "Why do you always expect something bad to follow something good?"

  "Because it usually does," she sai
d simply. "And I like being prepared."

  The orchestra began playing another song, its rhythm slightly faster than the last. He ignored the increased tempo. He liked swaying gently with her. It suited his mood. "Maybe it would do you more good to expect something good."

  Cara shrugged, looking away for a moment. "Those kinds of surprises I don't need to be prepared for. I can handle them just fine."

  But avoiding eye contact was for cowards and she had vowed a long time ago never to be a coward again. Instead she changed the topic to something safer and less close to her heart, which was in jeopardy of being breached.

  "So, any news?" she asked, changing the topic. "When can I take our mutual creep back to Colorado with me?"

  He'd been hoping that wouldn't come up tonight. Max didn't want to talk shop, didn't want anything to spoil the evening. An evening that he was hoping would end in her room.

  But since she'd asked, he couldn't lie to her. "I'm afraid that it's going to be awhile."

  Her pace slowed until she stopped dancing entirely. "Oh? And why is that?"

  His hand still wrapped around hers, he forced her to move to the tempo he set. He didn't want any attention drawn to the argument he suddenly saw brewing.

  "Because his list of offenses here is far more extensive than the one in the U.S. Salim is thought to be responsible for several bombing raids and the king thinks he might have had a hand in bringing down the prince's plane."

  She vaguely remembered hearing the story about a year ago. Something about a prince's plane crashing in the Rockies. The name of the country hadn't registered until now.

  She looked at him in surprise. "That was your prince?"

  "More than that," Max clarified. "That was my cousin."

  The news stunned her into silence for a moment. His cousin. She wondered if they'd been close and if this was all really a personal matter. She could feel sympathy rising inside her, but quickly banked it down. She couldn't afford that, not now. There was too much at stake. She had given her word to the sheriff as well as making a promise to Phil, who was technically out a large amount of money until things got squared away in a court regarding the extradition.