by Valerie Parv
Was it possible that she was saying never because of reasons that were no longer valid? That she was asking herself the question was alarming enough in itself. She knew she should stop this before it went any further. Instead she turned into his arms and let him pull her back down beside him.
"This doesn't mean we're having a relationship," she cautioned, clinging to the last traces of good sense.
"If you say so."
She let her head drop back, panting slightly as he laved openmouthed kisses over her neck. Resistance seemed futile when everything in her ached for him. As he continued his tender explorations, she felt the earth start to tilt on its axis and reached for him as her anchor.
She had never dreamed that not having a relationship could feel so sensational.
Chapter 11
Two days later Serena leaned against the wainscoted wall of the Grand Banquet Hall at Solano Castle, trying not to think about Garth as a lover. It was hard when she had to spend so much time with him. She had told herself she was checking on arrangements for the American president's visit, but the truth was she needed to put some space between herself and Garth.
It wasn't working. He haunted her thoughts as she watched the castle chatelaine, Augustine Beck, plan the welcome reception with the precision of a general martialing her forces for battle.
Augustine, known as August to almost everyone at the castle, could have performed the task on computer, but the sixty-plus martinet was a perfectionist from the top of her iron-gray hair, lacquered so not a wisp was ever out of place, to the toes of her sensible shoes. She notoriously preferred to work in the actual rooms where state occasions were to be held.
The fifty-foot-long table gleamed in the light from a series of crystal chandeliers as footmen, their shoes covered in booties made out of polishing cloths, skated across the surface, chatting as they worked. For the banquet, Serena knew the table would be set with a specially made damask covering, silver, gilt, flowers and china from one of the historic services in the royal collection. Fifty or sixty people would be seated along both sides of the table according to rank, each with their own attendant. August was shuffling place cards now.
The hall was one of the grandest in the castle. Richly painted molded ceilings ingeniously made use of the de Marigny family insignia. The elaborate plaster cove dominating the room had been commissioned by Prince Jacques de Ville de Marigny, to celebrate the unification of Carramer's many islands into one kingdom.
The eighteenth-century French carvings serving as a framework for a collection of Gobelins tapestries that had been a gift from France to mark the centenary of the same event.
It was sobering to think that if Carramer First—or whoever was manipulating them for his own ends—had their way, all the preparation would be for nothing because the banquet would never take place.
She straightened unconsciously. The group had to be stopped before they could disrupt the president's visit and the plans for an American base on Carramer. Not that she'd made a lot of progress so far.
Rescuing the Pascales was progress, she reminded herself. Prince Lorne's reaction had left her in no doubt how worried he had been about his friends. Worried enough to order them all back to the castle at Solano. They had arrived the day before.
There was still no news from the police lab about Garth's DNA test, but the analysis was painstaking and couldn't be hurried. No answer could be expected until almost the eve of the president's arrival. She had no doubt the timing was part of the Hand's plan. Springing a new claimant to the throne on the president would be damaging enough. If her growing suspicion proved correct, the Hand also expected Garth to champion Carramer First's cause and reject the American involvement.
She didn't want to think he would do such a thing, but how well did she really know him? Physically was one thing, and heat flared through her as she remembered how they had made love well into the morning, before they returned by helicopter to Allora. Her years on the police force should have made her a reasonable judge of character, but for once, she was unable to think beyond how Garth made her feel.
This assignment should have been clear-cut. Instead his involvement had turned her into a seething mass of contradictions. Wanting the job done and the villain vanquished. Wanting to stay with Garth. Just wanting.
She had tried to banish it by thinking about him. According to his file, he'd made a success of the navy until he was booted out. She shouldn't be surprised. At school he'd been insubordination on legs. It hadn't stopped him from rising quickly through naval ranks due to outstanding performance alone. His superiors might not approve of Garth but they couldn't ignore his brilliance and dedication.
But not everything was in the file. His missions with the DAREs were locked away beyond even her level of security clearance. But she knew enough about the DAREs to be sure he had risked his life more than once. And his navy buddy, Brett, hadn't lost his leg on a picnic.
So Garth was brave and clever. Again, no surprise. What kept catching her unawares was his earthy sensuality. It was like a currency he minted that only she could spend. And in this particular currency he was alarmingly wealthy.
"Your office told me I'd find you here." A tall, angular man with dark curly hair, who could as easily be a basketball player as the police lieutenant he really was, strode up to her.
Pleasure flooded through her. "Matt, you didn't have to come in person. You could have telephoned and saved yourself a trip."
Her former partner shook his head. "I don't get many excuses to visit the castle. This is some dining room, isn't it?"
"I wouldn't like having to do the housework," she said with a laugh.
Matt Hayes watched the footmen skating up and down the table. "I saw that on television once. I didn't think it was for real."
"Can you think of a better way to polish something that size?"
"I have enough trouble scraping crayon off an ordinary table after two children have finished scribbling on it." He looked thoughtful. "Hey, maybe I could borrow the skaters after they're done here?"
"You'll have to take it up with Prince Lorne." She linked her arm through Matt's. "It's good to see you. Apart from the vandalism, how are Melanie and the kids?" She had missed her regular chats with her friend, but time simply hadn't allowed for anything other than duty. Well, almost anything.
"Holding you to your promise to baby-sit on our anniversary." Matt said.
"Yes, well, I may be out of town that night."
"Too late, a promise is a promise." He tapped a file under his arm. "Keep setting me new challenges and you'll be baby-sitting once a week for the next year."
"In your dreams."
Matt knew her too well to believe she meant it. They had known each other since she graduated from the police academy and he had been her senior on the force by only a couple of months, and by a mere three years in age. He had enjoyed acting as her mentor and friend, and she trusted him, although she would deny needing anyone to her last breath.
In fact she almost had. They had been responding to a radio call when she was shot during a bungled robbery. When he came to her assistance she had tried to push him out of the line of fire. Afterward he had been credited with saving her but he knew it was the other way around. Typical of Serena, she hadn't sought any credit and had been angry when he insisted on setting the record straight.
Now she was godmother to his six-year-old son, Ben, and honorary aunt to his four-year-old, Carla, who had already made up her mind to join the police force to be like Auntie 'Rena. Not like her dad, he thought with some chagrin, although he knew Carla couldn't have a better role model.
"Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked.
"Let's go outside."
She indicated a set of paneled double doors leading to a colonnaded terrace overlooking an area known as the green, which provided the setting for many colorful ceremonies. When the American president arrived he would take the salute here at a march with the Royal Guard acting as gua
rd of honor.
Watching over the area was a bronze statue of Amar Mayat, one of the earliest rulers of Carramer, and a renowned leader of the mysterious Mayat people who had reached the islands by sea two thousand years before. Fragments of their jade work were still being unearthed on the outer islands. The statue had been modeled on a stone carving of the king discovered at one of these digs.
Legend credited Amar Mayat with great wisdom. A gleaming patch on his statue revealed where superstitious visitors doing the castle tour, and those merely hedging their bets, had rubbed his ankle for good luck.
As Serena leaned on the balustrade and looked at the statue, she felt tempted to do the same, telling herself she needed all the luck she could get right now. Matt came up beside her. "According to my colleague in Perla, you did a great job getting the Pascales away from their kidnappers."
"There was a price," she said without inflection, knowing it would be in the report.
"It was the kidnapper's choice to go back into the cabin."
"So Garth keeps telling me."
"Ah, Garth Remy, your mystery man."
Only a handful of people knew about Garth's possible connection to the throne. She hated keeping secrets from Matt but this one wasn't hers to share. And he was enough of a professional not to pressure her to reveal more than she could. "He isn't my mystery man," she said in the same level tone.
"Could have fooled me. Whoever he is, he's more than a job to you."
She didn't have to ask how he knew. They'd worked together long enough for him to recognize small signs others would miss. For once the awareness didn't make her feel as comfortable as usual.
What was she afraid of betraying?
"What have you learned about Armand Junot?" she asked.
Matt accepted the change of subject with good grace. "He died at the Theresa Denys Memorial Hospital a year ago, but you already knew that."
"I thought he died in a nursing home?"
"He lived in one until the last few days of his life. He was transferred to the hospital after suffering the stroke that eventually proved fatal."
"Damn, that lengthens the list of who could have had access to his possessions. What about his wife and son?"
"The couple chose to live apart when the boy was about sixteen. He stayed with his father for a time. According to friends who knew both Armand and Felice, they didn't call it a separation because they didn't want to incur the wrath of her family."
With no divorce in Carramer, marriage was considered a lifelong commitment and separation something of a disgrace. "Didn't they approve of her choice of husband?"
"They did when he was in line to become court physician. After his dismissal, Felice evidently wanted to leave him and move back in with her family but they felt she'd made her bed, she should lie in it."
"For sixteen years?"
"You could say for fourteen of them they were already separated. Within two years of marrying the good doctor, she had taken a lover."
She braced herself. "Who was he?"
"You're going to love this. Roy Keer."
Her eyebrows shot up. "The former marine who attacked Princess Aimee?"
Matt consulted his file. "The same. They met while Keer was seeing the princess. He expected to marry her, so I don't know what he thought he was doing carrying on with the doctor's wife. After Aimee ended the relationship with Keer, he found out she was in love with Prince Eduard. Keer went off his head and started making threats. The princess was whisked away to a royal retreat but he tracked her down and tried to intimidate her into coming back to him. During his trial and after he was imprisoned, Felice Junot stuck by him, supposedly out of charity, but it was rumored that her interest in him was a lot more personal."
Evidently Matt hadn't learned that the princess had been pregnant to Prince Eduard when she was sent away. Lorne's family skeleton, and the possible secret of Garth's identity, were still safe. "Where is Felice Junot now?"
"Immigration records show she left Carramer a while back," Matt supplied. "She visited Keer in prison for a few years until they had some kind of falling-out. Could be she got tired of being on her own and took up with another man, and he objected. We know she went to Australia, then she dropped out of sight altogether."
"That leaves only the son. What do we know about him?"
"David Junot hasn't amounted to much, although with a father like his, who can blame him? He lives in Solano and has held a string of short-term jobs, but with no police record, the file's pretty lean. He started attending meetings of Carramer First while he was living with his father and still belongs to the group, but he keeps a low profile."
She felt disappointed. Every instinct told her that David Junot was involved in this somehow, but they would need more evidence than her gut feeling before Matt could obtain so much as a warrant to search the man's home. She hugged Matt, crushing the file in his hands. "Thanks, anyway."
"What were you hoping I'd turn up?"
"A definite suspect at least. David Junot would do nicely, but having a drunken crackpot for a father doesn't automatically incriminate him. The link between Felice Junot and Roy Keer would be more interesting if Keer hadn't drowned."
He grinned. "Yeah, live suspects are always more use to us."
She liked the way he included her in the "us." Much as she loved the R.P.D., there were times when she missed the close-to-the-bone excitement of police work. Matt knew that, too.
He closed the file. "I'd better get back. Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."
"I'm sorry I can't tell you what this is all about."
He held up a hand. "You will when you can."
"Sure, partner. Let me know when you and Melanie have your anniversary plans set."
"I will."
When he'd gone she felt alone suddenly, not only in fact but in spirit. Going to bed with Garth had been a mistake, she knew. Not because it hadn't been wonderful. It had. But because there was no future in it.
She didn't expect that sleeping with a man automatically led to marriage and a baby carriage. But that didn't mean she jumped into bed without a second thought. Sometimes a third. She valued herself too highly to be less than selective. Yet she had made love with Garth, the last man she should have chosen. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that, or what she was going to do about it.
He had hated being summoned back to the castle, but even Garth couldn't argue with the monarch, at least not unless and until he wore the crown himself. Prince Lorne had allocated him an office and a computer, mainly to keep him busy, she suspected. Garth had been playing a computer game when she looked in on him this morning. Recalling the intense way he'd hunched over the screen, dispatching virtual bad guys with single-minded determination, she smiled. For a man of action, being confined to the castle for his own protection had to be torture.
Not sure if her desire to spend more time with him was behind the sudden surge of benevolence, she decided to see if he wanted to join her in the castle gym to work off some energy. She had barely turned from the balustrade when a familiar sight had her whirling back, her eyes crinkling in annoyance.
Beyond the empty expanse of the green, a paved road led away from the castle to the main gate. It was normally only used early in the morning, when deliveries were made to the castle. The only vehicle on it now was a suspiciously familiar-looking pickup.
"Where the devil does he think he's going?" she hissed to herself. Prince Lorne hadn't specifically forbidden Garth from leaving the castle grounds, but he should at least have let her know so she could take proper security precautions. The man was terminally reckless.
She plunged through the doors into the banquet hall and snatched up the nearest house phone. By the time she was put through to the sentry box at the main gate, Garth had already driven through. She cut off the sentry's profuse apologies with a curt word and hung up, furious. Garth might be a spectacular lover, but she hadn't picked him as suicidal. Hadn't he learned
anything from what had happened to the Pascales?
There was only one thing she could do. She left word at the R.P.D. command center that she was leaving the castle and asked for her car to be brought around to the Sovereign's Gate. When the duty secretary quite reasonably asked where she could be contacted, Serena came up short, realizing she had no idea where Garth was heading. Then it came to her.
"The fishing port," she said on a sudden certainty.
* * *
Garth dragged a plastic chair closer to a table, smiling his thanks as Alice placed a mug of coffee and a heaped platter of freshly caught seafood in front of him. She might not be a palace-trained chef, but he would put her crayfish medallions up against anything that was served to Prince Lorne.
"One day I'll surprise you and order something different for lunch," he joked.
She affected a stern look. "As soon as I saw you drive up, I started cooking your favorites. Like most men, you're a creature of habit."
He feigned hurt feelings. "I'm not sure I like being lumped in with most men."
"Only when it comes to your bad habits. Other than that, you're in a class by yourself."
He started to protest that he had no bad habits, when he saw her head lift and her eyes narrow with recognition. He half turned as a silver-gray Branxton two-door sedan screeched to a halt alongside his pickup. Seeing who was at the wheel, he smiled at Alice. "You'd better bring another cup of coffee. Make it a latte."
"From the look on your friend's face, you'd be safer with a Colt .45."
"I'll settle for the coffee, thanks. I can handle my friend."
Alice went to get the coffee and Garth braced himself. But when Serena steamed to a standstill beside his table, he kept his tone mild. "Glad you decided to join me for lunch. Alice always cooks too much. I've ordered your caffe latte."
"You know where you can put your lunch."
He gave a pained smile. "The crab claws, as well?"
When he saw her mouth twitch he knew he was winning. It was a cliché that women looked good when they were angry. Usually it wasn't even true. Unless the woman was Serena. Temper suffused her delicate features with a becoming rose color and made her eyes shine like stars.
