Romancing the Crown Series

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

  If they had refused, it would have taken more than an act of congress to make it happen. Relations between Montebello and Tamir had been shaky at best for centuries. Though they were greatly improved now, an incident might set them off again.

  The princess was tiny, a few inches over five feet tall. Her long black hair was caught up in a smooth chignon at the nape of her slender neck. She was dressed in a simple, white form-fitting dress that looked like pure silk. Her pearls were understated elegance, just like the rest of her.

  Her husband, Farid Nasir, had a bodyguard's build. He was almost a foot taller than the princess and was obviously heavily muscled beneath that expensive hand-tailored suit of his. The man looked as if he could be deadly or benign as the mood struck him. Right now, he wasn't leaning toward the latter, but Ryan would bet his temper had a short fuse.

  "Ask your questions, Mr. McDonough," Samira told him. "We shall cooperate in every way that we can."

  "It was good of you to agree to come, Your Highness. On behalf of the Crown, I thank you for your assistance in the investigation. First of all, I have to establish your actual relationship to the victim, Desmond Caruso. Did you know him well?"

  She shot a wary look at Farid, who remained immobile and expressionless. "We were... involved. I believed for a short while that I was in love with him."

  "And that he loved you," her husband supplied in a gentle voice. Farid looked directly into Ryan's eyes and added, "But he did not."

  "Fortunately, for you," Ryan said. "You had an altercation with him, did you not?"

  "I did. This happened at the Glass Swan. When he insulted my wife, I backed him against a wall and threatened to kill him."

  "I see. Precisely what did he say that made you angry enough to do that?" Ryan asked.

  "Must I repeat it?"

  "Please. It could be important," Ryan urged, offering Samira a look of apology. He had read it in the police report and knew it would be embarrassing for both of them, but sometimes a second relating of events produced something unexpected. Memory during an episode stirring up intense emotions was often quirky. And the report only contained the gist of what was said. He needed actual words.

  "Tell him, Farid," the princess ordered softly. "Desmond cannot hurt me with his vile words any longer."

  "Caruso mocked her," Nasir said, his voice deep and without inflection. With one hand he grasped both of Samira's and held them. "The devil said that she was cold. A frigid woman. Then something to the effect that I should be glad he broke her in for me."

  "No wonder you lost your head," Ryan commented, wondering again why the man hadn't choked Desmond on the spot. Farid would have been acquitted in any court lined up in this part of the world.

  It was a good thing Nina wasn't here to listen to this.

  "So that was it? You said your piece, released him, took Samira back to Tamir and never saw Desmond Caruso again?"

  "That is correct," Farid admitted, but his dark eyes held regret for it. "I did not kill him."

  "Yes, we have established that. The main reason I wanted to speak with you both is to ask about the woman Desmond was with days earlier. The one you saw with him through the window of the guesthouse, Your Highness."

  Ryan watched her draw her hands from Farid's and clasp them formally in her lap. Her shoulders were straight now, her delicate chin raised royally, her slender ankles crossed very properly. She wore a slight frown as if trying to recall every detail of the incident he referred to. "This person had blond hair. She seemed tall, almost as tall as Desmond, or perhaps the heels of her shoes were high enough to make her so."

  "What sort of build? Body type?" Ryan asked, making notes on his small lined tablet.

  "Not heavy. Slender, but not precisely thin."

  "Approximate age?"

  "I do not know. I could not see her face." She blushed and lowered her eyes. "They were embracing. Kissing. I left then, not wishing to disturb them."

  "Of course." Yeah, he'd bet, Ryan thought. She probably had wanted to burst in there and scratch out some eyes right about then. But this dainty little princess would never have done such a thing. The lady had class. She knew exactly when to cut her losses, admit her mistake and move on with grace.

  Ryan admired her enormously for carrying through with this as she was doing. If only she had seen more of that woman, she might have been the key to solving this case. "Tell me, have either of you heard any other woman's name in connection with Desmond Caruso?"

  "No name," Samira said. "However he had been sitting with a woman shortly before our confrontation in the restaurant."

  Ryan had not heard this. It was not in the report the police had taken in Tamir the morning after the body was discovered. Farid Nasir's confrontation with Desmond was recorded, but no one had mentioned a woman. "You saw her?"

  "Again, only from the back. She had blond hair to her shoulders. I believe it was the same lady. This one was not young. I saw her hand as she lifted her wineglass from their table. Her nails were well manicured. Long. Painted red. Her hands were not young."

  He wrote down not young in large capital letters on his notepad and let her see the words. They both smiled and even Farid's lips quirked up at one corner.

  "What was this ancient lady wearing?" Ryan asked.

  Samira sighed and bit her lower lip, her perfect dark brows furrowed. "Black or very dark blue, perhaps. Sleeveless. I could not tell whether it was a dress or pants. Gold bracelets and rings. I did not count them."

  "Excellent description," Ryan said, praising her. "You are very observant. Mr. Nasir, did you see the woman at all?"

  "No," Farid admitted. "I was unaware that he was with anyone."

  He paused for a minute, then declared, "I believe we have told you all that we know of this matter. We will go now."

  Ryan stood and closed his little notebook. "I thank you for your time, Princess Samira, and for yours, Mr. Nasir. It was good of you to come."

  "If there is nothing more, we shall return to Tamir first thing in the morning," the princess said as she and her husband got up to leave.

  "No more questions at present. If I think of anything else, I will come to you next time. Again, thank you for coming and for being so forthright."

  "You are quite welcome," she said graciously, offering her hand.

  Ryan took it and bowed over it, then shook hands with Farid Nasir. "Congratulations on your marriage. I hope you will be very happy together," he told them sincerely.

  Farid took the princess's arm in a proprietary way no bodyguard would ever dare. "We shall be, of course, but would be much happier if we could put everything to do with Desmond Caruso behind us and forget he ever existed."

  Ryan nodded in agreement. "We will close this case as soon as humanly possible. Count on it."

  Nina came out the minute the door closed. She wore a stunned look. And she was carrying a water glass in her hand. "Do you believe Desmond actually said those things about her?" she asked in a breathless voice.

  "Dammit, Nina!" Ryan threw up his hands and shook his head. "I should have known you couldn't resist. People who listen at doors usually hear things they'd rather not—"

  "Do you believe he said it?" Nina demanded, ignoring his anger.

  "You knew him better than I did. Do you believe it?"

  She swallowed hard and looked a little sick. "I... I honestly don't know." She sank down on the sofa and looked lost. "If he did... well, it was awful, wasn't it? To say such things?"

  Ryan hated to see her this upset. He wanted to rake her over the coals for listening in the first place, but he didn't have the heart after all she had heard. "Maybe Nasir exaggerated a little. It happens. Memory works funny sometimes and he must have been jealous to start with."

  Slowly she shook her head. "No. No, I don't believe he would make that up." She looked up at him. "How could Desmond say something that vile, Ryan? It was horrible."

  "Come on, Nina. The man was mad at her. She dumped him—though I gra
nt you she had good reason— and he struck out, wanting to hurt her, too."

  "You don't have to provide excuses to save my feelings, Ryan. The princess went there to that guesthouse and saw him with another woman. She thought he loved her. Then the next time they meet, he's flinging these public insults. No, they were worse than insults. He was deliberately trying to destroy her reputation. I feel terrible for her. She sounded so sweet."

  Ryan said nothing.

  "You believe it. You believe they're telling the truth."

  He sighed, sat down and took one of her hands in his. "Yes. I'm sorry, Nina, but I do."

  "It didn't say that in the report of the police interview with Farid."

  "No. But they had to know the specifics would get out. People overheard it."

  "So did the woman with Desmond," she said, a tear trickling down one cheek. She swiped at it angrily and sniffed. "What he said might have made her as furious with Desmond as I am this very minute."

  He couldn't argue with that, Ryan thought. She was absolutely right.

  It was too bad that Nina had to discover that her brother was not the man she'd thought he was. That anger she was feeling would dissolve into sadness soon. Ryan knew she would dwell on it.

  "Since we talked to Pete, I've had Joe asking around, trying to find somebody at the restaurant who might have witnessed what went on. I'm going to talk to the staff myself. Let me call and see what he's got," Ryan said as he picked up the phone.

  When Joe answered, Ryan gave him a quick rundown on the information he had gotten from the princess and her husband. Joe imparted what he had learned, which was damned little. Ryan hung up, feeling more discouraged than before.

  "So, did he learn anything?" Nina asked, frowning. She looked as down as he felt.

  "Nothing new. Unfortunately, the argument between Samira and Desmond grabbed all the attention and whoever was with Desmond went virtually unnoticed as a result. So far all we have is mention of an ordinary blond female. One who might no longer be a blond. If she's guilty of killing Desmond, we can probably bank on the fact that she'd adopt some kind of disguise. No one at the restaurant who did see her remembered seeing her before, Joe said. My guess—and Joe agrees—is that she's not a native or a very frequent visitor. Might be someone Desmond picked up who was here on vacation and long gone now."

  "Then who's been after me?" Nina asked with a shrug.

  Ryan had no answer for that one and they both knew it. He needed to find some kind of distraction to keep her mind busy.

  "You want to go over to the American Embassy with me? I need to pick up some paperwork." It was something he had been putting off, but time was growing short.

  In about six weeks, he would submit his application for citizenship. He'd been operating here under a work visa for almost two years. If he intended to stay, he would have to request another extension or, more practically, become a Montebellan. Giving up his American citizenship was not a thing he looked forward to, even though he never intended to return to the States.

  "Does this have anything to do with the investigation?" she asked.

  Ryan looked away. "No, nothing. It's personal."

  "Personal?" she asked, perking up. "You actually have a personal life? There's news."

  Immediately, he felt defensive. "What do you mean by that? Everybody has a personal life."

  She scoffed. "Not you, Mac. Everything you do is connected to work, do you realize that? Not once in all the time I've known you, have you done anything that didn't have to do with the job!" Suddenly she looked away and colored a nice shade of rose. "Well, all right, once, but it doesn't count. That was just an anomaly."

  "That's what you call it? Well, gee, I need to look up that word in Webster's. I've been using it wrong all these years."

  She blushed even redder. "You know what I mean."

  Ryan shrugged. "So I do what I get paid to do. You ought to appreciate that. How else do you expect me to catch whoever killed your brother? That's what you came over here demanding."

  She paced back and forth nervously, running a hand through her hair, pausing to look out the window as she crossed her arms. "I know." For a moment she remained quiet, then sighed as she stared out at the city of San Sebastian. "I think I made a huge mistake in coming here."

  "What do you mean?" he asked gently. "You want me to admit what a big help you've been? You have helped."

  She shook her head, still not facing him. "It's just that you seem obsessed with it. A lot more obsessed than I am, which is little strange, don't you think? You never think about anything else."

  Little did she know, but he wasn't about to admit how much she was on his mind. Then he would have to say why that was, and he honestly didn't know. "Sorry. The work is who I am."

  Suddenly she turned, frowning. "See? That's exactly what I mean."

  Ryan smiled. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy? Well, I am a dull boy, Nina. What you see is what you get."

  "You've allowed me a glimpse now and then of a man I would really like to know better. Then you yank down this shutter between us. I believe you use it to shut everybody out, not just me. Why is that?"

  Ryan hated this kind of examination. "Who the hell do you think you are, picking my life apart like a plate of bony fish? You want me in the sack again? Is that what this is about? Okay, let's go."

  She rolled her eyes and turned back to the window. "In your dreams. If you actually have any dreams. I'm just worried about you, end of story. You want to live like a robot, that's your business."

  He marched over and stood just behind her, spoiling for the fight she had picked. "You're damned right about that. It is my business! And I don't appreciate all this crap. I live the way I have to live, Nina."

  She wheeled on him. "Why?"

  "Why do you care?" he shot back.

  "Because you're miserable, that's why! You don't have any friends, Ryan! You need friends! You need some kind of connection to life besides existing in that blank space you call an apartment, running interviews and collecting clues!"

  "I have friends."

  She flapped a hand, dismissing that. "On the surface. You shake hands, you joke around, you smile, but it always comes back to the job, doesn't it? Always. You haven't talked to a single soul since I met you that you didn't need information from."

  Ryan took a deep breath, trying to stay cool. "There was my dad."

  She clicked her tongue in disgust. "Yeah, the guy who thought you might eat your gun, right?"

  "What's this attack all about, Nina?" he demanded. "Why, all of a sudden, do you feel like I need saving?"

  Her eyes softened with what looked like pity. "Because you do. Because I want to be your friend, a real friend, not just someone you tolerate being close to you because you have no choice."

  "I don't have a choice," he snapped. "And you're just bored. Why is it women always have to start dissecting somebody when they run out of things to do?"

  "Did some woman leave you dissected, Ryan?" she asked, tongue in cheek, looking up at him from beneath those dark curling lashes.

  In a rush, he released the breath he'd been holding. "Yeah," he admitted, nodding. "One did."

  Nina walked around him and left him standing there by the window. "Well, someone needs to put you back together one of these days." She waited, probably for him to answer, which he didn't. The silence drew out. "Guess it won't be me."

  He guessed not.

  Ryan stood there where she had stood, looking out, not seeing, wishing he didn't feel as fragmented as she had accused him of being. Or as wound up in the work. Or as friendless.

  There was Pete, he wanted to say. But Pete was a source. And Lorenzo was more of an employer than a friend. He liked both men, but they had lives vastly different from the one he had led and was leading now. Franz and Joe would do just about anything for him, but that's what they got paid to do. He had nothing in common with either of them if he didn't count the job.

  Damn, he hated
thinking about things like this. He almost hated Nina for pointing them out. For being right.

  "You know, I wish we could go to the beach," she said with a deep sigh. "It's so nice out there."

  He turned and glared at her. "Analysis is over then?"

  "Time's up. I'll send you a bill." She met his gaze with an unreadable expression.

  "So do I just chill out and chalk this up to cabin fever?"

  She nodded. "Wouldn't it be wonderful just to lie in the sun and try to forget about everything for a while? I'd give anything to do that."

  Ryan supposed he could arrange it. There were private beaches where the public was not allowed. He could probably get Lorenzo to set it up, especially since the man seemed so damned determined to play Cupid. "I'll see what I can do," he said, shaking off the unwarranted anger.

  "Never mind," she said, looking wistful. "With my luck, sharks would probably attack the minute I hit the water."

  "Did you bring a bathing suit with you?"

  She stretched out on the sofa, her hands behind her head and closed her eyes. "I didn't fly to Montebello to swim."

  "Hey, first rule—you never go anywhere on this island without a suit. Carry one in your purse. Keep one in your car. In your desk. Everybody swims. We'll get you one from the gift shop downstairs. I'll call down and have a couple sent up for you to try on." He reached for the phone.

  She sat up. "Are you kidding? I've seen those things in the window on the way to the dining room. They're nothing but strings and patches."

  He smiled evilly. "You're as well equipped for that as anyone I've ever seen. Or we could skinny-dip. The guards might snigger, but—"

  "Not funny." She seemed to be working on restoring her good humor. The least he could do was match her effort.

  "Let me see what Lorenzo says. Maybe he'll loan us his private stretch of sand for a couple of hours."

  "You think he would?" Her excitement proved what he had suspected. She just needed to get out of here for a while.

  "Sure. What are surface friends for if you can't borrow their beaches?" He picked up the phone and punched in the number for the duke's offices.