by Valerie Parv
Lorne had Garth's attention now, Serena saw. Pieces were starting to fall into place. All but the most crucial one. "Why didn't Eduard marry Aimee as soon as they learned she was pregnant?"
"My grandfather, Prince Guillaume, was out of the country and they needed his blessing. When he returned he was angry because he thought they were too young, but he gave his consent because of her condition. They were planning their marriage when Aimee received more threats from Keer. Prince Guillaume had the couple spirited to a royal hideaway until Keer could be apprehended."
Garth picked up a pebble and skimmed it across the pond's pristine surface in a smooth action that made her lick annoyingly dry lips at the fluidity of his movements. Where the pebble touched, ripples spread out like the consequences of Lorne's mother's actions, Serena fancied.
"A commando-trained security man wouldn't be stopped that easily," Garth predicted.
Lorne watched the ripples subside. "Indeed. He eluded the authorities, tracked the young couple down and broke into the royal compound, attacking Aimee before he was apprehended. The shock drove her into early labor, and Louis was born several weeks prematurely. Stillborn, or so she believed. Yet no one from the family saw the child after the birth. Aimee was so distraught that public news of the birth was suppressed to protect her. Her need for seclusion was explained as a consequence of the attack."
Bad enough to be attacked. Devastating to lose her child as a result, Serena thought. No wonder none of this had been made public. "What happened to Keer?"
"He served a long prison term, earning a further term for killing another prisoner."
Where was Keer now, she wondered? Still in prison if his track record was any guide. "Surely there was a funeral service, a memorial or something for the baby?" she asked.
Lorne nodded. "There was a private service and a cremation. A rose garden was planted at the estate as a memorial."
"There's no conclusive proof that the baby died," Garth observed. "If the child was stolen, the perpetrators could have arranged for an empty coffin to be cremated."
He sounded as if he was starting to believe in a living heir, she noticed. He wasn't the only one. "The baby could have been farmed out to foster parents who may not have known whose child they had adopted," she surmised, mentally compiling a list of suspects starting with the medical attendants and the staff at the hideaway when the baby was born. If any of them had been connected with Keer, it could make for an interesting trail.
"What makes you think this involves me?" Garth demanded. "My parents didn't talk much about the past and I have no relatives I can ask, but surely I'd have picked up some hint that something wasn't right?"
"Your lack of siblings could be a clue in itself."
She voiced what she guessed Lorne was thinking. "If the Remys desperately wanted a baby and couldn't have children of their own, they'd have been the ideal couple to approach about an illegal adoption." She gave Garth an apologetic smile before going on. "I doubt they could have afforded to go through regular channels."
Garth's expression hardened. "Unfortunately, you're right." His relentless gaze thanked her for pointing it out. She felt his pain but silently begged him to understand that she had to do her job. At the same time she wished she could tell him how much she admired how he was handling this. If she'd had everything she'd ever believed about herself turned upside down, she doubted she could discuss it as dispassionately as Garth was doing.
He'd mastered the art of guarding his feelings at an early age, she recalled. Whether he was taunted about being the oldest boy in school, or didn't have an answer in class because he'd been working on his parents' boat when the subject was studied, he'd acted as if he didn't care. She saw it carved on his face now. Sticks and stones, it proclaimed. Or a core of certainty about who and what he was that no external force could touch.
Lorne projected the same air, she realized. Was it an alpha quality they shared, or something more?
Garth folded his arms across his chest. "Being illegally adopted doesn't make me royalty."
"As well as the strong family resemblance, you carry a genetic trait unique to the de Marignys."
"Coincidence."
"Or a scheme to keep you hidden until your existence could be revealed when it would do the most harm to Carramer," Lorne suggested. "If you consent to it, DNA testing will establish beyond doubt whether you could be my parents' child."
"Of course I consent." Garth's tone said the sooner the better.
"Assuming the test is conclusive, under Carramer law, as the eldest son you would be the heir presumptive."
"Hell's teeth."
Lorne's mouth twitched. "Precisely."
Her mind whirled. "Carramer First must be planning to announce Garth's existence on the eve of the American president's visit."
Garth shot her a sharp look. "What would that achieve?"
She suspected the reason but looked to Lorne, who answered. "The president wants to establish an American base on one of the outer islands in exchange for long-term trade and defense benefits to both our countries. Any uncertainty about my right to finalize the agreement could derail the talks."
Garth's breath whistled out. "Sounds like someone doesn't want that base built."
She chewed her lower lip. "Carramer First has a republican agenda, but they've never gone beyond noisy demonstrations and minor acts of sabotage. Their antics are mainly aimed at gaining publicity and supporters. Stealing the heir to the throne and announcing his existence years later is beyond their scope."
"It isn't beyond somebody's scope," Garth said. "If not Carramer First themselves, then who and why?"
"Someone could be using the group to push an agenda of their own," Lorne suggested.
She had been thinking the same thing. "The members may not know they're being used."
"Also a presumption." Lorne thrust his hands into his pockets. "Unfortunately, DNA testing takes at least two weeks to obtain a result, more time than we have before the president's arrival."
"Someone evidently took that into account," Serena said. "They're obviously not stupid, which means they won't be easy to pin down."
Lorne became all business. "That's why I'm assigning you to find who's behind this and stop them before the president's visit. You'll have to work quietly. If word gets out about a possible claimant to the throne, it could not only derail the summit, it could throw the whole kingdom into turmoil."
She drew herself up. "Understood, Your Highness. However, I could be recognized by some of the Carramer First members. I've broken a few of their heads during demonstrations outside the palace."
"You may have to break a few more before this is over," Lorne said wryly. "They must know by now that the package is missing. They'll expect us to learn of its existence. If you're seen with Garth they'll think you've been assigned to protect him until we get to the bottom of this."
Protect Garth? She almost laughed out loud, unable to think of any man less in need of her protection.
His body language also rejected the notion outright even before he said, "Respectfully, Your Highness, if I'm going to help I'd prefer a more active assignment."
"And if you are the true heir?"
Something knotted inside her as she thought of him putting himself at risk, not because of who he might be, but because…well because he was Garth. "In any case you don't have a security background," she said.
"I have my navy experience. It covers a lot of ground." He faced Lorne. "Unless the circumstances of my discharge means you're not willing to trust me."
Lorne's expression betrayed nothing. "I know only what the record shows."
Garth's mouth firmed. "The record is wrong."
"Not according to Admiral McRafe."
"Admiral McRafe is an ass—admiral, sir. He isn't a diver. Defective equipment caused the trainee's injury."
She saw Lorne suppress a smile at Garth's blunt description of the admiral, censored barely in time. She had met the admir
al at a palace briefing once, and the dislike had been mutual. But would he destroy a man's career before admitting he was wrong?
"The question of the succession is our priority right now," Lorne said. "The court physician is out of the country, but I'll have his deputy arrange the DNA test under the strictest secrecy. I'm told she needs to test as many members of the royal family as possible, so I've announced that I wish to establish a DNA data bank for historical reasons."
"I recommend setting up a command post at the summer palace at Allora where it would be easier to keep the investigation under wraps," Serena proposed.
Lorne inclined his head. "I concur. The two of you will go there as soon as the testing is completed."
The two of you.
Instant heat coiled through her, disturbing in its intensity. Basing the investigation at Allora was logical and Garth had to be involved, but she hadn't counted on Lorne sending Garth to the summer palace with her. Already her awareness of him put her senses on overdrive. Tough to function efficiently when unsettling currents ripped through her every time he looked at her.
She debated whether to claim emotional involvement as a way out, but could she honestly? Sexual awareness wasn't the same thing, and that's all she was prepared to acknowledge. "Isn't Garth safer here, Your Highness?" she suggested anyway.
Before Lorne could answer, Garth snarled, "To the devil with safe. I should have some say in this. If I am the heir, I outrank both of you."
Unperturbed, Lorne smiled. "When and if the crown is yours, you can do as you wish. Until then, I rule here. I want you out of harm's way until we know the truth."
Even Garth couldn't argue with a man whose word was quite literally law. His bent head conceded the reality, although the rest of his stiff pose telegraphed defiance. "As Your Highness wishes."
For now, she heard, although he didn't say it. In the stubbornness stakes the two were evenly matched. Another indication of their relationship? Carramer was in for a shock if it got Garth as a monarch, but not as much as Lorne himself, she thought. He'd been born to rule. Garth ruled no one but himself, and he didn't take kindly to following another man's orders. How had he survived so long in the navy?
Lorne narrowed his eyes. "Serena?"
She resisted the urge to sigh. "As soon as the test is done, we'll leave for Allora—together, sir."
"Good. I'm putting you in charge."
Garth looked as if he would like to strangle someone with his bare hands. If she had a problem dealing with him, he obviously had a bigger one with answering to her. Good. It might distract him from making her job harder than it already was.
Chapter 4
Serena thought of Garth's solitary bag in the back seat of the unmarked car she had commandeered from the R.P.D. fleet. Only by arguing that it was a security risk had she dissuaded him from taking his pickup. It was now locked away at Solano with her car. For now the less attention they attracted the better. For that reason she had decided they would remain in contact with the castle, but without an escort of police or R.P.D. She hoped she wasn't being overconfident.
"Are you sure you brought everything you're going to need? I can have someone swing by your boat."
His dark brow arched upward. "Curious about how the other half lives, Serena?"
She concentrated on driving. "No. But we'll be at Allora until the results of the test are known. You haven't brought much with you."
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shrug. "I'll get by. Lorne invited me to help myself to anything I need at the summer palace."
The resemblance between Garth and the monarch extended to their size, she'd noticed. "You two got along well, didn't you?"
"Considering the circumstances."
"This must be a lot to take in. If you want to talk about it…"
"I don't," he said shortly.
She decided against heeding the warning in his voice. "Finding out that the people who raised you might not be your parents after all—I can't imagine how that must feel."
"Then don't try. Once we have more facts about my background will be soon enough for you to start arranging counseling for me."
His message was clear. He had decided to treat this as a hoax until proven otherwise. Professionally, she knew he was correct. Personally was another story. "Some men would take advantage of the situation," she commented.
"In what way?"
"Expecting to be treated like royalty."
He snorted his reaction. "Try calling me Prince Garth and see where it gets you."
"I wouldn't dream of it." To her Garth was still the school bad boy, the kind her parents had warned her against. Although boy didn't begin to describe the man he had turned into, nor her infuriatingly female response to him. Sharing a car with him, about to spend a couple of weeks in relative seclusion in an emotion-charged situation was even more disturbing. No wonder her nerves felt as if they were on fire.
"What will you do if this isn't a hoax?" she asked him, curious in spite of herself.
He began ticking off points on his fingers. "First, bring in a two-day working week. Then decree free candy for every kid. Deep-sea-diving lessons for all the adults."
She slammed her hands against the steering wheel, making the car slew until she wrestled it back under control. Her reaction shocked her. They were on the coast road that linked the capital with Allora, and the sea foamed against rocks sixty feet below them with only a narrow shoulder between them and the drop. "Do you have to make a joke of everything?"
"The joke is me as the ruler of Carramer," he said, unruffled.
"Is it so hard to contemplate?"
"Try impossible."
"You can't conceive of yourself as the prince?"
"I'm surprised you have to ask."
She slanted a look at him. "Because I'm from what you call 'the other half'?"
"Aren't you?"
"You made it clear you thought so. I never saw myself that way."
His silence told her he still considered her a spoiled princess. Did he think her dedication to fighting crime, to protecting the royal family who ensured Carramer's stability were the choices of someone who only cared about her own pleasure? Couldn't he see the truth right in front of his nose, that she couldn't help being who and what she was, but had turned her life around because she wanted to make a difference?
Why should she care what he thought anyway?
"In any event, if I turn out to be Lorne's older brother I won't live long enough to wear his crown," he said as mildly as if he was commenting on the weather.
She tightened her hold on the wheel. The thought had occurred to her but she had kept it to herself. "What makes you think so?"
"It suits someone in Carramer First to have me identified as the heir to the throne. For reasons we still have to determine, they want to create enough chaos to stop the Americans building a base here. They're not likely to want to exchange one monarch for another."
"So you think you'll be targeted for assassination as soon as you've served your purpose?"
"You think so, too. Lorne, as well. Isn't that why he wants me at Allora?"
It was her turn to lapse into silence. She had reached the alarming conclusion while he was at the palace infirmary, taking the DNA test. "You realize that means Lorne and his family are also in danger?"
"Go back to them. I don't need a baby-sitter."
"The prince wants me here."
"What do you want, Serena?"
I want you to stop treating me like the enemy, she thought but didn't say. I want you to look at me as me, not as a poor little rich girl you labeled a long time ago. None of it was appropriate to the present situation. "I want you to shut the hell up and let me do my job," she snapped, provoked as much by her reaction to him as by his behavior.
"Is that any way to talk to the future monarch of Carramer?"
"Oh, so now you're the heir? Can I expect you to pull rank whenever things don't go your way?"
"They've never g
one my way without a fight. I don't need a title to get what I want."
"What do you want, Garth?"
Throwing his question back at him was supposed to buy her some peace. She didn't expect the answer he gave.
"You."
Feeling anything but peaceful, she kept her gaze on the road ahead. "I'm so glad that's out in the open."
Her sarcasm washed off him. "You asked. I answered."
"Well you can't have me."
"I never could, could I? You want me to think you've changed, but one thing is still the same. There's a gulf a mile wide between us. Even if I'm crowned king of the world, in your eyes I'll never be good enough for you."
"You said it, I didn't."
"But you believe it."
It wasn't a question. Nothing she could say was going to convince him otherwise, so she didn't try. "What does it matter anyway? We're here because of a political situation. It's not personal."
"Everything is personal sooner or later. It's the only reason anybody gives a damn about anything."
Sudden understanding flooded her. "It is personal, isn't it? I wondered why you agreed to everything so readily. The Garth Remy I used to know would have told Prince Lorne what he could do with his DNA test and would never have agreed to being stashed away at Allora. I'm right, aren't I?"
Accustomed to reading body language as part of her job, she glanced at him and saw his tension in every line. His careless shrug didn't negate the conclusion. "You're the one with all the answers. You tell me."
So she did. "This is your revenge for all the hurts you endured growing up. Being behind everybody else at school through no fault of your own. Always scraping to get by. Then being thrown out of the navy for something you didn't do. If you are the heir to the throne, you'll have the last laugh."
"Some laugh if it gets me killed."
Hearing the raw note in his voice, she let her eyes narrow. "I don't think you care as long as you can rub everybody's noses in your true heritage first."
"You're supposing I care what anybody else thinks of me in the first place."
