They were coming around the final corner now, with the palace walls before them, the gates open, guards stationed every few feet. They nodded easily to Kristos, their eyes sweeping over Lauren with no judgment. He glanced at her and could see why. She didn’t look like she’d been passed-out drunk not a half hour before. She looked cool, clean, unmussed.
Perfect.
They cleared the gates and followed the lit walkway up to the main palace. He didn’t want to ruin the moment with more talk. He already suspected their time was short, circumscribed by their stations and temperaments. But the American had asked a question, and he was bound to respond. “Not Emmaline. Standard procedure only, princess. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Hmm.” They took the last few steps to reach the front doors of the castle, doors that were opened promptly by smartly dressed staff who ushered them into the grand foyer. Lauren didn’t get more than ten feet in when she turned to Dimitri. “I can find the rest of the way myself. Thank you so much for your escort. It was a lovely walk.”
He gave her a short bow, but he could feel the moment when her gaze left his body, like a blanket slipping away so that he must face the morning chill. As he straightened, however, he could also immediately identify the stiffness in her body, the way she held herself completely statue-like, as if she was about to break. Only this time, she wasn’t looking at him.
“What,” she asked very quietly, “is that?”
Her eyes were fixed on the antechamber beyond him, a shallow, cream-colored room with a long table and ornate shelving, used as a staging area for the endless flow of petitions, gifts, and written correspondence that flooded through the palace gates.
Dimitri turned instinctively, his gaze sweeping the space. There were packages, stacks of flyers, letters. “What?”
“That.” She lifted a hand that had only now begun to tremble, pointing an elegant finger to single out a small, richly wrapped package in black and white. Her face looked stricken, her eyes filled with both a panic and desperation that Dimitri would never have thought possible in someone with as much power and influence as he knew she had back in her glittering ivory towers. “Get it out of here.”
“But what—”
“Please!” She grabbed his arm and stared into his face for a panicked moment. Then her control crashed down again, her expression lightening, her mouth curving gently into a smile.
But there was no denying the haunted look in her eyes. “Please, if it’s what I think it is, it should be removed from the palace.” Her fingers tightened. “Immediately.”
Chapter Three
Lauren tilted her head exactly eighteen degrees, moving her body into a three-point stance that she knew showed her figure off to best advantage. Not that anyone was looking at her, but in her experience, someone was always looking at someone, and she wanted to be prepared.
It was the only armor she had.
Dimitri moved forward rapidly, barking to the guard in terse Garronois, relaying another order on its heels. King Jasen and Prince Kristos, both to be summoned. Immediately. Once the danger was assessed.
The first blank wash of fear ebbed away as quickly as it had overtaken her. The king and the prince? Over a box? Lauren opened her mouth to take it all back, to play down her reaction, to smooth everything over—but words wouldn’t come right away.
Dimitri stood, scowling down at the package, and she blinked, trying to refocus. “You’re sure?” he growled.
“Yes, sir,” said the young woman in a palace uniform at his side. “Absolutely, sir. Nothing inside.”
Another wave of panic seized her. Relax! she ordered herself, but unlike Dimitri, she wasn’t as good at masking her emotions when she wasn’t the center of attention. It was as if she could only dance on the marionette’s strings when the curtain was up. Something she needed to work on, but—
Then eyes were upon her once again, and her training kicked in. She lifted her chin, willing her expression to clear as Dimitri scowled in her direction. “You know who sent this?”
“I thought I did.” She nodded, unsure how to play this. Go with something he can understand, something simple, easy. Something not insane. “That—that packaging is a signature look of someone I know, someone who plays with electronics, tracking devices, that sort of thing.”
Dimitri’s brows went up. “Tracking. Who is this person?”
She blinked at him. “Oh, um.” Stupid! She should have known he’d ask that question first, and Henry Smithson was no more a tech-head than she was. But he was dangerous, at least to her, and he could quite easily enter the castle grounds if he wanted to. His little present proved that clearly enough. What if he was here, in the city? What if she truly had something to worry about?
“Who is it?” Dimitri asked again, and she shook herself back to the present.
“Henry Smithson—he’s not a criminal.” Not exactly. “He’s just—a friend. Of the family’s. Who sometimes likes to play games.” And oh, the games he played.
“Henry Smithson.” Dimitri flicked a glance to a man standing at the side of the room, then back to her. “American?”
“Expat. Lives part time in England, part time in…I don’t know. Wherever it suits him, I guess. I thought he was in Brazil. But again, he’s not going to be in any criminal database. He’s simply a very rich man who…”
“Likes to play games.” Without saying anything further, Dimitri appeared to dismiss the woman at his side, who turned and left silently. Dimitri waved the box toward Lauren. “What else has he sent?”
She managed a shrug. “What do you mean?”
“He’s sent you other things, in boxes like this. You or perhaps your family, but I’m thinking it’s you. What? And when did it start?”
Smile, dammit. Tell him something that makes sense. “Well, the reason why I was alarmed…He’d send digital recorders with conversations of my voice that I couldn’t imagine how he’d captured. But it wasn’t all bad.” Smile. Smile. Wave your hand. “He’d also send chocolate and jewelry, clothing sometimes.” And also dead things. Scorpions. Locks of hair from her own head or her sister’s. Newspaper clippings of injured friends. “It became a little unnerving because I didn’t know what it might be, or why he might be sending them.”
“And always in this type of box?” He gestured with the package again, and Lauren fought not to get queasy.
“Yes, I’m so sorry. Looking at it now, it’s an ordinary box, I know. Black paper and white ribbon isn’t that distinctive. But, well, it’s what he always uses. And that’s why I didn’t want it in the palace. I thought—I thought it was some sort of recorder, but…” She shook her head. “If you say the box was empty, well…I’m so sorry. I must be completely turned around.” She lifted a hand to her mouth, feigning mortification. She didn’t need to act all that convincingly. “Or maybe a bit tipsy.”
Dimitri didn’t waver. “Does this Smithson know you’re here?”
Her stomach knotted. “I didn’t think so, but…”
He spoke her next thought aloud. “The paparazzi.” His scowl deepened. “In the wake of Emmaline and Kristos. If you weren’t on his radar screen before, you are now. You say he’s a friend of your family’s? Or of yours?”
“My father’s, most directly.” Straighten your spine. Smile. “He certainly paid a lot of attention to me, but I was a little girl when we first met, and a bit excitable. I was an easy target.” She waved toward the box. “Still am, I guess.”
“Do not apologize for your fear. It’s there for a reason.” Dimitri’s gruff absolution hit Lauren exactly the wrong way. The panic she always endured when it came to Henry Smithson clawed at the back of her throat, urging her to tell him the truth, but her ingrained sense of self-preservation smacked it back. Now, she needed to get out of there. To do that, she merely had to play to Dimitri’s expectations.
“Thank you.” She smiled and deliberately made it quavery, moving her hand to her hair as if to swat away some imaginary wisp. “I�
�oh, should I stay for the king? I feel so silly.”
“Not at all.” Dimitri gestured to one of the staff members, another female, who stepped quickly to Lauren’s side.
“Come with me, Miss Grant. I’ll take you to your rooms.”
“Thank you—I…” Too much? Too little? Get out of here, urged a voice in her head. She didn’t know how well Dimitri had studied her over the past few days, but the captain was not a complete idiot. Surely he could read people’s emotions and know the ones that resonated the strongest. And surely her fear was pinging off the radar.
She turned to the staff member, smiling broadly. “That would be lovely,” she said, forcing herself to slow down, to modulate her voice despite the impact of the alcohol and her own fear making her want to shout. She couldn’t look again at Dimitri, though. Instead, she left the foyer without a backward glance.
Her heart pounded all the way back to the guest chambers, where she, Emmaline, Nicki, and Fran all shared an extended guest suite. When she approached, she heard their voices, and she steadied herself further. Usually the sound of her friends’ laughter would have been soothing to her, presaging a carefree respite. Not today, though. Not when her mind was reeling. They’d know too much, pepper her with questions. She didn’t want to face them.
Impulsively, she put out a hand and stopped the attendant. “Thank you, but—is there someplace I could go to be alone for a little while? I don’t want to worry my friends, but I…I’m not feeling too well.”
The training of the palace attendant was evident as she nodded, completely unperturbed by Lauren’s request or by her trembling hand. “Of course, Miss Grant. We have a lovely sitting room down the corridor. When you are feeling more yourself, you may retire to your suite at your leisure. Would that be acceptable?”
“Of course—yes. Thank you.” Lauren closed her hands into fists to keep from crying, a reaction completely out of step with the attendant’s words. She was drunk, was all. She was overreacting. She needed to pull it together.
The room was as advertised. Small, cozy, and quiet, it seemed the perfect oasis as the attendant stepped quickly across the room and turned on two low-light lamps. There was a long couch and two chairs in front of a gas fireplace, which the attendant helpfully turned on despite the fact that it was early summer. A cheery flame leapt up in the grate, and Lauren’s knees wobbled a little. One of the chairs had a cotton throw folded over it, and she angled for it now. Vertigo struck her hard, but she steadied herself enough to turn and thank the attendant.
“No problem at all, Miss Grant.” The woman bowed and left the room as quietly as she’d entered it, and Lauren practically dove for the chair, pulling the soft blanket around her with shaking hands.
For a long minute, she stared at the fire climbing in the grate. Then she pawed at her purse, snapping it open long enough to pull out the phone. She didn’t need to dial anyone, though.
The text was waiting for her.
How I’ve missed you.
Dimitri strode through the halls of the palace, fury arrowing through him. Fury at what, he wasn’t sure, but he had a whole lot of mad going on.
The American sure knew how to pick her freaks.
Henry Smithson wasn’t merely a friend of her family’s. He was a friend of just about every royal and moneyed family in the civilized world. Hell, King Jasen knew him, though he’d also confirmed that neither he nor the queen had ever received packages from the man. Certainly nothing in such a distinctive box. To the king’s recollection, Henry was late thirties, rich, fit and athletic, and quite the avowed bachelor. He’d apparently been part of the Grants’ inner circle since he was a young man, but now was richer than God all on his own. There’d been some speculation in the media that he was finally considering marriage and family life, but by all accounts, he was currently sailing around the world. Even if he’d seen the media blitz on Kristos and Emmaline, and, yes, the rest of the girls, he would have had to scramble to get a package here so quickly, and to such exacting dimensions. And the package was empty, so how could he have known that Lauren would see it?
There’d been no note, only the crisp handwriting on the card that had accompanied the package addressed to King Jasen. There’d also been nothing to suggest that the box had come from Smithson. It had arrived by special courier, unwrapped, like a birthday present carried in by a family friend. The only notation from the concierge was to follow up with the courier service the next day on what the intended contents had been. Theft was suspected, but as it had arrived at the palace already empty, it wasn’t as high a priority. It could wait until the following day.
Dimitri couldn’t wait, though.
He stalked into the guest-apartment wing of the palace, his scowl deepening as he caught the flickering light from the sitting room east of the girls’ suites. He wasn’t in the mood to interrupt a late-night fireside girls’ chat, he needed to talk to the blonde. Something wasn’t adding up.
Fortunately, a quick sweep of the sitting room reassured him that the room was empty.
Or…not quite empty.
He stepped inside, moving silently to where the very top of Lauren Grant’s head peeked out of a summer weight blanket. She’d wrapped herself in a cocoon, her purse tucked beside her, her face angled toward the warmth of the fire. He stood there for a moment, weighing his options.
The American wasn’t telling him everything. She actually wasn’t telling him much of anything.
But what did it matter, really? She wasn’t his problem. The royal family was, and even that only for a few more short days, until plans got settled for how Kristos’s engagement would move forward, and the remaining girls were ushered along to enjoy the rest of their fancy European vacation. He had already missed the window of his leave to go see his family on Miranos, but that couldn’t be helped. The GNSF reports from the Turkish border were increasingly dire. The military needed to increase its presence to the north, and there were precious few fighters to spread out through the mountainous region. He’d assigned one of Kristos’s royal cousins to the job, along with his contingent of hotheads. That might have been a mistake, but sooner or later, the young fools would have to be trusted with real work.
Either way, he had too much to do to play nursemaid.
That didn’t change the fact that Kristos had asked him to take care of this woman. Worse, Dimitri was not simply honor bound to do what his prince commanded, he needed it. Needed the assignment, needed the mission, as he’d needed every mission over the past year. Especially those missions that required him to save people from themselves.
He’d failed at that before when it had mattered on so many levels.
He wouldn’t fail this time, regardless if his focus wasn’t the heir to the throne, but some spoiled, insufferable woman whose touch he craved so much, it made his bones ache.
He wanted nothing more than to get away from Lauren Grant, to put her on some plane back to America, never to see her again. Because if she didn’t get out of his sight soon, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. Even now, he wanted to lean down and take her into his arms, holding her so tightly that he might never forget the warmth of her body against his, the touch of her lips, the feel of her long, lean legs—
Stop it.
He stomped another step forward with perhaps a bit more force than necessary, and Lauren stirred. The blanket fell away from her face, and her hand reached out reflexively to keep it tight around her body, as if that flimsy bit of comfort was sufficient shield against the hornets’ nest she stirred up around herself simply by existing.
Well, he was more than in the mood to kick that nest a few more times right now.
Stopping short of the couch, he dragged an ottoman closer and sat on its edge. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he stared at her.
He could tell the moment she returned to awareness. It wasn’t so much a change in her coloring or a flutter of her lids, but an electric energy that seemed to course through her, warn
ing her that once again, she was being watched. Once again, she was the focus of someone’s attention.
What would it be like for this woman to wake up outside the spotlight? He smirked. She’d probably be lost.
“Were you planning to stare at me all night?” Lauren’s eyes drifted open with a cold challenge, her face perfectly controlled, her tone even. There was nothing to indicate that she’d been sleeping, other than the fact that he’d observed her not thirty seconds earlier, dead to the world.
“Where is this Henry Smithson now?” he asked too gruffly, but the sharpness of his words seemed to ground her. She straightened on the couch, the blanket tight around her.
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Has he ever threatened you?”
“Of course not.” Her outrage flickered between laughter and anger with such precision that every one of his nerves prickled. She was bluffing. Had to be. Still, Lauren continued. “He’s a friend of my father’s. I’ve known him since I was a little girl.”
“How little?” He didn’t know why he asked it, but the spasm of emotion that arrested her face might have been the confusion of waking up on any other woman.
But not this woman.
Either way, she recovered quickly enough, and rolled her eyes. “As if I could possibly remember. I was young, and he and my father did business together. I was paraded in front of all of Dad’s business clients at one point or another, it couldn’t be helped.” She tilted her head. “Why? Did you find something in that package after all?”
“We’re tracking it down. Officially, we expect to determine that it was emptied on the way to us, since Mr. Smithson cared more about the style of his presentation than its contents. He sent the thing to the palace unwrapped. Is he frequently careless?”
“I wouldn’t call him careless, no.” As if she realized she was saying too much, she lifted a slim shoulder. “He’s too good at business to be truly careless. He might have been conducting a test, to see how the good citizens of Garronia would react to such easy pickings. Or”—she waved off his bristled indignation—“he may merely have been playing a game. Perhaps another package will arrive tomorrow, identical in every way, except this time, it will have something in it. That would play to his sensibilities.”
Captured (Gowns & Crowns #2) Page 3
