Romancing the Crown Series

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

  Foolishness.

  Rose, she said, would be ready in a moment. She made proper if slightly scattered conversation and offered him a seat, but she didn't sit down herself, so courtesy kept him standing. He didn't find out if the blue armchair would welcome him as this woman, however polite, did not.

  Gemma Giaberti might be silly, but she was no fool. She didn't trust him. Maybe he should have tried to charm or reassure her, but that particular deceit was beyond him. The woman was right to worry. He would almost certainly hurt her niece.

  Some small noise must have alerted him. Or maybe it was her scent, sensed but not consciously noted, that made him turn to look at the doorway just as she reached it.

  She wore black.

  For once Drew's inability to show his feelings was a blessing. His reaction couldn't be concealed entirely, of course—there were some things no man could hide—but his dress slacks fit loosely enough to offer some concealment.

  "I'm sorry I kept you waiting," she said, coming forward with a smile. "Last-minute emergency. I couldn't find the right purse."

  "For results like this, I would have happily waited much longer." He didn't offer his arm. Instead, acting on impulse, he held out his hand.

  Her palm was warm, her clasp firm. The contact felt obscurely right, and he didn't want to analyze his motives or consider consequences. She gave her aunt a kiss on the cheek, her aunt gave her a lacy black shawl, and he left the house with Rose's hand in his.

  The air felt like silk on what little bare skin it could reach. Drew found himself regretting the way he'd chosen to entertain her tonight. It demanded far too many clothes.

  On his part, at least. He glanced at the woman beside him. There was a great deal of her skin available to the evening air. Perhaps he hadn't made such a bad choice, after all.

  Dammit. He had no business regretting or enjoying his plans for the night. Rose was a beautiful woman, but more than that, she was vivid—sensual, unexpected, brimming with life. He couldn't help responding and needn't apologize for it. But tonight wasn't about him and his unruly libido. He needed to remember that.

  "Am I allowed to know where we're going?"

  "First to the car. I had to park a few blocks away. Then, I'm afraid, to pick up my cousin." That startled her. And didn't please her overmuch, he thought.

  "Which one?"

  "Lorenzo. It's his car. Is it my imagination, or are we attracting more than our share of attention?"

  She chuckled. "What did you expect? I didn't tell anyone I was going out with the queen's nephew, but I did ask my assistant to close the shop for me tonight—after you'd come to see me this afternoon. That would be all it took to start the gossip moving. They're probably disappointed you didn't pick me up in a limo."

  He raised his eyebrows. "Do you know all the people who have been staring at us, then?"

  "Don't you know most of the people in the village near your family's estate?"

  "Montebello isn't a village. The population of the capital alone is over two hundred thousand.

  "But there aren't two hundred thousand people on my street. I've lived in the house we just left for seventeen years."

  He was reminded of what Lorenzo had said about Montebello and the village mind. "Most of our admirers seem to be smiling. They must approve. No, wait. The woman standing in front of the pharmacy you recommended to me for sunscreen is scowling at me. No doubt she reads the same magazines your aunt does."

  "Natala Baldovino." She sighed. "It isn't your reputation that puts a scowl on her face. It's mine. She probably thinks I've put a spell on you and is trying to decide which authority to report me to. Maybe I should warn her not to bother telling Captain Mylonas. He doesn't go in for all that psychic nonsense."

  Startled, he said nothing.

  "Look." She stopped, pulling her hand away from his, and faced him. "We may as well get this out of the way. How did you get my address?"

  "From Lorenzo," he admitted, since it was obvious she'd guessed that much.

  "That wouldn't be the only information he gave you about me. Your cousin, whose car you borrowed, thinks that either I'm responsible for the bomb at the airport or I know who is. He would have told you that. You must have decided to give me the benefit of the doubt, and I appreciate it. I don't appreciate being manipulated."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  She made a small, disgusted noise. "This business of picking up your cousin because you have his car. His Grace owns more than one car. He could catch a ride with a dozen other people, not counting the police or his own staff. But you've arranged things so that I have to face a man who thinks I'm in league with the—oh, I don't have any words bad enough for them. With the Brothers. That's a surprise, all right, but not the kind I was expecting when you asked me out.

  Her perception of him shook him—but she didn't really know why he'd set things up this way. She'd guessed part of it, but not all. "I'm sorry.

  "Judging by the expression on your face, that much is true.

  His face wore a readable expression? "I didn't think you'd realize Lorenzo held you in suspicion. He did arrange for Captain Mylonas to let you go."

  "Because there's no evidence against me, not because he doesn't suspect me. I'm not an idiot. He's probably having me followed, though I haven't spotted anyone lurking behind us yet. I understand why your cousin is suspicious, but that doesn't make him pleasant company for me."

  Best, he decided, to speak as much truth as possible. She was too bright to swallow a comfortable lie. "I'm afraid you're right. Lorenzo believes you know more than you've admitted. He insisted I arrange things this way tonight. I think he wants to reassure himself I haven't fallen under your spell." He captured her hands. "Not the kind of spell your Signora Baldovino has in mind... I'm not sure I'll be able to convince him, though. I'm not sure it isn't true."

  She studied him for a long moment before pulling one of her hands away. "She's not my Signora Baldovino," was all she said, but she left her other hand in his as they started walking again.

  Neither of them spoke again until they reached the car, a silver Mercedes Benz. For Drew, the silence was a relief. Concealing facts and feelings came naturally. Deceit, he was learning, wasn't the same as concealment.

  He reached across her to unlock her door, but paused before opening it. "Do you see the man in the blue shirt who just rounded the corner? We need to give him time to reach his car, but it's me he's following, not you."

  She stood so close, almost within the circle of his arms, that he could see the dark rims around her irises, like midnight encircling the ocean. "Why is he following you? And why do we want him to?"

  "I refuse to go everywhere flanked by bodyguards. My cousin refuses to let me wander around Montebello without them. The gentleman in the blue shirt is a compromise."

  Her eyes widened. He could feel the warmth from her body calling to his. She smelled of roses and something darker, a hint of musk and secrets. "You're a target because of your relationship to the Crown. I... hadn't realized."

  "Not a primary target. Maybe not a target at all, now that Lucas is back and war seems unlikely, but kidnapping remains a possibility. My uncle wouldn't deal with terrorists, no matter whom they held hostage, but we can't be sure they believe that. It's only fair that you be aware of this. I wouldn't have asked you out if the danger was great, but there is some risk. There's also some loss of privacy."

  Her smile came slowly and her voice, when she spoke, was light. Deliberately so, he thought. "As long as the gentleman in the blue shirt doesn't find it necessary to peep in windows, I'm not worried about the loss of privacy. My neighbors will be watching us much more keenly than he will, believe me. As for the danger... we'll just have to hope I'm a good enough seer to keep us both out of trouble, won't we?"

  Something complex and silent seemed to pass between them, a communication he lacked the understanding to translate. Heat, yes—that was there. It was the other message he didn't have words for. But he
felt it.

  He looked away before she did and opened her door. She slid inside.

  How could he keep from respecting her courage? Drew had no answer for that as he settled behind the wheel.

  "So where will you, me and your suspicious cousin be eating dinner?"

  "Didn't I tell you?" A smile touched his lips as he clicked the seat belt in place. "At the palace. With my other cousin, Prince Lucas. And his parents."

  This time, he noted with slightly malicious pleasure as he pulled out into traffic, she was the one startled into speechlessness.

  Chapter 5

  A t thirty-five minutes short of midnight Drew headed for Lorenzo's new home on the palace grounds. It was ironic, really, Drew thought. For years Lorenzo's half brother had been jealous because Lorenzo lived in the palace, while Desmond had to settle for a house on the grounds. Now that Lorenzo was married, he'd casually relinquished what Desmond wanted so fiercely, preferring the privacy of a separate dwelling.

  Drew doubted that the move had done anything to ease Desmond's envy.

  Lorenzo's new wife, Eliza, let Drew in and showed him into the study, then withdrew discreetly.

  Lorenzo was sitting at his desk with a map of the palace grounds spread before him, anchored at the corners by a book, a half-full decanter, a chunk of quartz and a .9-mm pistol. "If you'd like some brandy," he said without looking up, "the glasses are on the credenza.

  Brandy sounded entirely too civilized. "Not now," Drew said, sitting in the chair across from his cousin. Lorenzo had been pressed for time that morning. He'd briefed Drew quickly on what they knew about Rose Giaberti, and he'd given him some instructions. Tonight Drew meant to learn more—and make a few suggestions of his own.

  "I hadn't expected to see you back quite so early." There was a gleam of amusement in Lorenzo's dark eyes.

  "If you're expecting regular reports on my sex life, you're doomed to disappointment."

  Lorenzo leaned back in his chair. "No. I wasn't expecting you to be this prickly, either."

  He hadn't even kissed her good-night. She'd been angry when she learned he was taking her to the palace and on her guard when he took her home. That was one of the reasons for his restraint. There were others—he preferred not to do the expected. Her aunt had been waiting for her behind the yellow door at the top of those stairs. He wanted her to trust him, and quick, hot sex wasn't the way to build trust.

  But those reasons were garbage. He knew that, just as he knew that, wary or not, she'd wanted his kiss. But he remained unsure of his real reason. "Have you any evidence that a cell of the Brothers of Darkness remains intact here? Any names you can give me, descriptions, anything like that?

  "I'm afraid not. There were indications in the records we recovered after the raid on their headquarters that there had been a cell in Montebello at one time. Nothing to identify its members. We don't even know for sure it still exists, though the bombing at the airport makes that seem likely. If so, it's operating on its own now.

  "I don't think she'd have anything to do with the Brothers.

  "You've reached that opinion based on one evening? An evening spent in the company of others?" He shook his head. "I don't see how even you could have coaxed any confidences from her in between salad and chicken piccata."

  "Logic," Drew said dryly, "is sometimes more useful than waiting for people to tell me secrets. First, the Brothers are exclusively male. Their beliefs about women wouldn't allow them to admit a woman to their councils. At most she might be a friend or lover of one of the terrorists, but that doesn't fit. This isn't a woman who would waste time on a man who wanted to put her in purdah.

  Lorenzo gestured impatiently. "People kill for love, for money, for more twisted or obscure reasons— hatred, revenge, even social advancement. We can't assume she has no reason to cooperate with the Brothers just because we don't know what it is. She could be part of some other group that's climbed in bed with them for their own reasons.

  "If that's the case, why isn't she dead?"

  "Because she tipped us off about the bomb, you mean? Trust me, that has occurred to me. She's being watched. But it's possible they don't know who called in the tip.

  Drew drummed once, twice, on the arm of the chair. "Your Captain Mylonas detained her for questioning at the airport, then took her to the police station. If the Brothers are too stupid to figure out what that means, they aren't much of a threat."

  "Please. Mylonas is not one of my men, which he made quite clear. The idiot wouldn't turn her loose until I persuaded his superior to override him. As to why she's still alive.. .you have to remember that we're dealing with a small, isolated remnant of our old enemy. The Brothers had resources in terms of arms, information and men that these people lack. They may not have enough men to risk exposing one of their number by trying to kill her right now. They'll know we're watching her."

  It was some consolation. Drew's heart was pounding too hard, and there was no reason for it. None. He steepled his fingers. "It's also possible that she isn't tied to the Brothers in any way. I'm going to proceed on that assumption."

  Lorenzo's eyebrows snapped down. "You want to tell me why?"

  "Because that's the most useful assumption for me to make." Not because he found it impossible to believe otherwise. Though that was true, it was subjective and proved nothing. "I won't be much help if she's connected to the Brothers. She isn't going to open up to me about that. But if she heard or saw something she wasn't supposed to, she might have decided to use this psychic nonsense as a way of tipping you off without admitting she can identify one of the Brothers."

  "I see what you mean. She'd be afraid of what they would do to her if she identified one of them. But she may trust you enough to tell you the truth." Lorenzo nodded. "All right. You work with your assumption, but don't forget that's all it is. Watch yourself."

  "Of course. You want to tell me why you had me bring her to the palace tonight?"

  "Because I 'm hoping like hell your assumption is wrong." Lorenzo stopped suddenly, as if mastering whatever emotion had his jaw so tight. "We had another tip.

  "And?"

  "There may be an attempt on the prince's life at the Investiture."

  "Holy hell." The Investiture was a centuries' old ritual in which the king officially named his heir, who was then installed by the island's elected body as the Crown Prince. "If they smuggle in another bomb..."

  "They could wipe out most of the government."

  Drew sat in bleak silence a moment, absorbing the implications. "How reliable was your tip?"

  Lorenzo shrugged. "Hard to say. It came from a petty criminal who sometimes turns informant. His information has been reliable in the past, but he's never given us anything of this magnitude before." Lorenzo paused. "He's since disappeared."

  "Dead?"

  "Or gone into hiding. The information he gave my man was vague. We're trying to corroborate some of it. No luck so far, but it's early yet."

  "You've told the king, I assume. He intends to go through with the ceremony?"

  "I tried to talk him into postponing it. He refused. He's convinced it's necessary to hold the ceremony as soon as possible, both to secure the succession and as a symbol for the people. Hell, he may be right. My job, as he pointed out, is to make sure he can do his job."

  That sounded like his uncle. "And the prince?"

  "Lucas knows. The queen hasn't been told."

  ' T still don't see why you had me invite Rose to the palace tonight.

  "Like I said, I'm hoping your assumption is wrong. If she's one of them and seems to have easy access to the palace—to the prince—they may decide to make their attempt through her. It's easier to guard a single, known quantity than to prevent attack from an unknown direction. And if she does try something—" his left hand closed into a fist "—then we'll have her. And through her, the rest of them."

  Drew's temples were beginning to throb with the dull precursor of a headache. He needed to finish up and le
ave. "I have a suggestion. Ask her to help with your investigation. Police departments do occasionally work with psychics."

  Lorenzo's chair creaked as he leaned farther back. He laced his fingers together over his stomach and spoke mildly. "I'm sure you have a good reason for suggesting we work with a suspect."

  "Her value to you is as a conduit to others. You need her alive, so you need to convince the Brothers they have nothing to fear from her. If she is working with them, this might help persuade them to make the next attack through her, as you said. They'll think you trust her. If she's an innocent witness, let it be seen that she's sticking to her story of seeing visions. The Brothers will have a good laugh at us for believing that psychic nonsense and put less of a priority on silencing her.

  Lorenzo considered that for a long moment. "And if they believe in that psychic nonsense? We could be making her more of a target than she is now.

  "If they actually believe she can peer into her crystal ball and identify them, she's as good as dead now," Drew said flatly. "Unless you lock her away somewhere for her own good.

  "I need her alive and where they can contact her. And dammit, I need to know what she knows and hasn't told us. All right. We'll try it your way and see how it goes. Not that I plan to believe a word she says, you understand. Here's how we'll play it."

  They talked for another ten minutes. Drew was on his feet, about to leave, when Lorenzo said, "One more thing." He moved the chunk of quartz and picked up the pistol, letting the map roll up in a quick shudder of paper. He held out the gun. "From now on, I want you armed whenever you leave the palace."

  Silently Drew accepted the weapon. It was a Glock automatic, the model he'd learned to shoot with on the firing range below the palace more than ten years ago. "Your memory is remarkable. I'm still better with a rifle, but a rifle would be hard to tuck under a jacket. I'll need a shoulder holster."