"Yes. Do planes interest you?"
"Yes, and cowboys, too," came the youthful response. "I attend a boarding school in America."
Dakota resisted the urge to slip Kathy a sideways glance. He supposed he looked like a forty-one-year-old cowboy with his rugged skin and hard-earned crow's-feet. His Texas drawl certainly fit the cowboy mold. Dakota didn't have a lot of experience with children, so the last thing he had expected was admiration from an adolescent prince. It boosted his pride with a masculine sort of awe.
"So you like horses, then?"
Prince Eric nodded, his voice a little quieter. "But I prefer a Western saddle to the hunt seat," he said as if the admission might earn him a European scolding. A security officer in the royal service stood a non-intrusive distance away, keeping a careful eye on the boy.
Dakota smiled. He doubted the stoic-faced guard had heard, and even if he had, who would tattle on a future king?
For a moment Dakota thought to invite the child to his ranch. He could teach the young prince about Comanche horsemanship. In Dakota's culture, a boy didn't merely learn to ride. He had to be a trick rider, practice picking up objects while his mount traveled at full speed. And the ten-year-old prince, with his rebellious hair and dark, curious eyes, would make a quick study. European royalty, he thought, with a Comanche soul.
Dakota shook off the notion, realizing he had allowed an unexpected paternal urge to get the best of him. He couldn't extend an invitation to Price Eric, he thought, a twinge of regret constricting his chest. Who would explain his true marital status? Who would tell the child that Kathy no longer lived at the ranch? It was bad enough the young Prince would be burdened by his parents' personal problems. He didn't need to be dragged into Dakota's as well.
* * *
After Prince Eric departed, Dakota and Kathy returned to the main ballroom. As they left the charming alcove, Kathy's heartbeat quickened. Heading toward them was Albert Payune, his steely blue eyes focused directly on her.
There was no way to avoid him. Soon they would come face-to-face with the man who had been watching them for most of the night. Did Payune know that Prince Eric had looked upon Dakota with youthful admiration? Or that Dakota had smiled affectionately at the child? The rightful heir to the Asterland throne?
Payne shifted his gaze to Dakota. "Lieutenant Lewis," he said in a formal greeting. "Are you enjoying the ball?"
"Yes, thank you. And you, sir?"
Such stifled pleasantries, Kathy thought, her pulse refusing to relax. How could Dakota stand there looking so calm? Because it was his job, she reminded herself. Her husband thrived on danger.
"It is a lovely affair," Payune responded in an unemotional tone. He turned to Kathy, trapping her with a cool smile. "Mrs. Lewis, you look simply stunning."
She forced herself to meet those frosty blue eyes. "Thank you."
He held her gaze, and she knew he was testing her, waiting to see if she squirmed. She lifted her chin a notch, even though she feared the pounding of her heart would give her panic away.
"Your husband came to see me the other day," Payune said. "We had quite an interesting chat."
She glanced briefly at Dakota. He didn't come closer, didn't coax or comfort her in any way. But the Grand Minister studied them with keen interest. Assessing their body language, she assumed.
"Yes, he told me," she said. "And I do hope you will consider his offer."
"We shall see. For now, it is much too grand a night to concern ourselves with business." He reached for her hand and brushed his mouth over her knuckles in the same manner he had brushed off her statement. "But I would be honored, Mrs. Lewis, if you would save me a dance."
"Of course." She wanted to snag her hand back and wipe it on her dress. Even his lips were cold.
Dakota moved in with a smile, touching her with sudden familiarity. She did her best not to collapse in his arms.
"My lovely wife promised me a tour of the gardens. Didn't you, darling?"
"Yes, I did. The grounds are breathtaking."
"Do not detain her for too long, Lieutenant." Payune split his cool gaze between them. "I am looking forward to that dance."
The instant Kathy and Dakota stepped outside, she allowed herself a nervous shiver.
"Are you cold?" he asked. "Do you need your jacket?"
"No, I'm fine. The air feels good." She took a deep, cleansing breath. Already she could smell sweet, earthy scents rising from the flowers. She would draw from their beauty, she thought. Their magic. Surely the palace gardens had resident fairies, little winged creatures who would keep them safe.
They walked arm in arm for a short while, taking the stone path that would eventually lead to the maze. As they came upon the queen's traditional rose garden, he spoke in a hushed tone. Other guests explored the grounds, their voices a distant buzz.
"You did fine, sweetheart."
"He's suspicious of us."
"Of course, he is. I expected as much. He isn't the sort of man who puts his trust in others. Not even those he considers allies."
And that worried her. Payune might accept Dakota's offer, might bring him into the revolution, but her husband would be watched. Maybe too closely.
Before she could ask if he thought they were being followed, Dakota stopped to draw her into his arms. Needing him, she came willingly. He dipped his head and his breath fluttered across her cheek, then brushed her lips.
The kiss was tender and protective, and she welcomed it from deep within her soul. Roses flourished all around them – a gathering of soft, velvety petals – long, sturdy stems and prickly thorns. Beauty and danger, her mind warned.
This man.
This moment.
Their tongues touched lightly, ever so lightly. It was a tease, an awakening. He tasted of Russian vodka. Just a little, she realized, just enough to induce a slow, warm intoxication.
She let the sensation steep her, heat and melt and pull her into a dreamy state. He licked her bare shoulder, grazed it with his teeth. She clung to him, felt a shift in his stance. She inhaled his cologne, wanting to breathe him into her lungs, into her body.
He nuzzled her neck, then lifted his head and brought his face next to hers. "We have to go. We can't stay here."
"I know." Somewhere in the back of her foggy mind, she heard voices. Someone was speaking French. A language as fluid as their kiss.
Although flood lights lit the gardens, shadows danced across their path – dark, leafy shapes – tall, billowy figures. Their feet scraped the stone walk, scattering pebbles. The natural perfume from the roses had disappeared. Beyond them lay an endless carpet of grass, and in the distance a dark, ominous structure.
The maze stood like an ancient castle, ghostly and foreboding. The music from the palace seemed ghostly, too – a lonely waltz drifting into the shadows.
"It looks haunted," Kathy said. And if someone followed, they couldn't be sure. Payune could have sent a tail – a dark figure who blended into the night. There were too many shrubs, too many trees in which to take cover.
They cut across the grass; it was damp and freshly mowed. She felt her shoes sink into the moisture.
The opening of the maze beckoned, and she feared that first step. It would swallow them, and then Dakota would disappear.
They followed the path they had memorized. It went on forever, twists and turns, fake passageways, clever openings. There was enough light to keep from stumbling, but not enough to make her feel safe.
The gazebo surfaced like a mirage, but it, too, seemed haunted. The swing rocked on its own, just a little, just enough to frighten her. A spray of flowers grew from the soil – blooms too unusual and too exotic to name. Nothing felt familiar. Nothing felt right.
The night had eyes, she thought.
Dakota took her hand and guided her into a corner – a tall, rectangular shape that led to another geometric cove.
And then his mouth came down on hers.
Hard.
So hard
she locked her knees to keep herself from falling.
There was no time to think, no time to dwell on ghosts and swings and heady-scented flowers. His hands, those big, powerful hands circled her waist and pulled her flush against him.
This was no phantom lover, no figment of her imagination. He was real, solid, built of bronzed flesh and unyielding bones. She explored the breadth of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist, the muscles that jumped in his stomach.
And while arousal flooded her system, he played with the zipper on her dress, sliding it down, then back up again – cupping her bottom, pressing heat against heat.
She heard sounds. Her sigh. His low growl. The slice of her zipper.
He delved into her hair, and she felt it fall into his hands, tumble over his wrists and down his arms.
He kissed her, over and over, sipping and tasting. Her nipples tingled against the silk of her bra, the satin of her dress.
They made love through their clothes, she thought. There was no other way to describe the sleek, sliding motion. The pressure building upon need. The hot, fumbling strokes.
But they didn't have long. It would end too soon – this glorious, wicked sensation. And it wasn't enough, not nearly enough.
He gentled the kiss, then drew back to look at her, his breathing a series of husky pants. Moonlight slashed across his face – the razor edge of his cheekbones, the sensual shape of his lips, the hard, smooth line of his jaw.
"I wish I could take you. Here. Right now."
She understood, and the thought made her dizzy. He wanted to lift her dress, remove her panties, untuck his shirt, open his trousers.
Suddenly she didn't care if the night had eyes. She could almost feel him moving deep inside her, each powerful thrust urging them to completion. "Then stay with me," she whispered.
He rubbed his forehead across hers, his voice quiet – broken words only they could hear. "I can't. You know I can't."
Yes, she knew. But the fear had returned, and she didn't want to lose him. It was always the same fear, the one that had surfaced soon after she'd married him. He would go away and never come back.
Don't do this to me, she wanted to say. Don't make me remember why I can't be your wife. Not now. Not while I'm here in your arms.
"Close your eyes," he told her.
She did as he asked, and he carried her to the connecting cove. As her feet touched the ground, he kissed her. A touch that fluttered across her lips like the elusive wings of a butterfly.
She could still smell the woodsy scent of his cologne, but when she opened her eyes, she looked into the shadowy face of a stranger. Dakota was gone, and in his place stood the man called Thunder.
* * *
Payune's estate wasn't far from the palace, and Thunder had left everything Dakota needed, including a vehicle that took him to a grassy field laden with foliage. Dakota parked between two gnarled old trees, then brought the night optics to his eyes. He could see the stone wall that surrounded the Grand Minister's estate. He had studied the floor plan of the sprawling estate, and he knew the home contained three safes. The necklace could be in any one of them, but he was banking on the one located in the master suite.
Dakota adjusted his gloves. He had already slipped on a pair of dark coveralls and changed his shoes. There was nothing left to do but switch the necklaces and return to Kathy's waiting arms.
What would happen to Kathy if he foiled this mission? Dakota started across the field, his mind suddenly troubled. Thunder would take care of her. The other man had given his word.
A burst of masculine rivalry surged through his veins like a charge of angry adrenaline. Yeah, that was all he needed. A guy who looked like himself taking care of his wife.
His face shielded by a ski mask, Dakota scaled the wall, grateful Payune wasn't a fan of guard dogs. Or dogs in general. All Dakota had to think about was the household staff, and a skeletal crew at that. Apparently Payune didn't trust employees of the royal service any more than he trusted a Doberman or a rottweiler not to turn on him. But then Payune was a man who had plenty to hide, and people as well as dogs could usually smell a rat. Especially if they lived under the same roof with one.
Taking to the shadows, Dakota disengaged the alarm, a tedious task of stripping and rearranging wires. He did the same with the phone lines, knowing he would have to reverse the process after he switched the necklaces.
Dodging flood lights and a security camera, he ascended the terrace like a mountain climber claiming Mount Everest, then stood beside the door that led to the master suite, his back to a stone wall.
Get in and get out, he told himself. Kathy was waiting.
Frowning, he picked the lock. That's right. Kathy waited in the maze, in a dark, cozy corner with Thunder – an Apache with the heart of a rogue and a smile to match. Women loved the hell out of that guy. And Dakota trusted him. Until now.
Payune's private suite came into view, but Dakota didn't waste time assessing the man's ostentatious taste in art and antiques. There were three sets of connecting rooms. He turned to the wall that contained the built-in safe and grinned. This was too easy – a scene from an outdated television show. An aristocratic portrait with a stolen necklace behind it.
He went to work on the safe and what he didn't find had him cursing under his breath. That out-dated television script had just thrown him a Hollywood curve ball. There wasn't a ruby in sight.
The library or the office? he asked himself. Which safe was it in? He checked his watch and thought about Kathy. With Thunder.
He slipped out of Payune's suite and took up residence in an unlit corner of the hallway. The servants' quarters were in the back of the house, and he could only hope the household staff had tucked themselves in for the night. And if not, he had already mapped out every escape route imaginable.
The stairs descended in a circular motion, a slick polished banister guiding the way. He took each step soundlessly. But as he made his way toward the library, he spotted a flood of light streaming beneath the kitchen door. Not a security light like some of the others burning throughout the estate. This bright flash said that someone was working in there.
His senses went into full alert. Freshly baked bread. A pot of simmering soup. The contented hum of a plump, elderly cook.
Footsteps sounded. Foreign voices spoke. Maids, two of them. He stood like a masked statue, his body molded to the side of an antique hutch taller and wider than himself. The women entered the kitchen, and he heard feminine chatter and bowls clanking. Apparently the cook had prepared a late-night meal.
When the rat is away, Dakota thought, his mouth splitting into a grin – the household staff will gossip and play.
A push of pure adrenaline led him into the library. He went right to his mark, pulled out the false front on a bookshelf and uncovered the safe.
The rubies glittered like blood, and a surge of excitement shot straight to his groin. With his mind on his wife, he slipped the necklace into a pouch, leaving the fake for Payune.
Years of experience kept Dakota on track, even though Kathy occupied his thoughts. He completed the job and returned to the palace grounds. With a pounding heart, he followed the twists and turns in the maze, then stopped when he saw them.
Kathy and Thunder.
They stood near the gazebo, leaning toward each other, their shadowed faces much too close. Thunder could have been him, Dakota thought. No one would suspect that the man gazing into Kathy's eyes was an imposter. He looked like her husband.
Her lover.
A knot of jealousy twisted Dakota's gut. He mimicked the caw of a raven, signaling his return – a call Thunder would recognize.
The other man leaned a little closer to Kathy, then took her hand and guided her toward the section of the maze where Dakota waited. Kathy didn't seem aware of what was happening, but Dakota knew she couldn't see him, not when a tall, dark shrub stood between them.
"I'll be right back," Thunder whispered as he moved away fro
m her.
Like hell you will, Dakota thought, even though he knew Thunder didn't intend to keep his word.
A moment later, the two men came face-to-face, but neither dared speak. Dakota handed over the pouch containing the necklace, and Thunder grinned before he stole into the night, letting Dakota know he had enjoyed every minute of his assignment.
Wonderful. His wife and the guy who had taken a bullet for him. How was that for an equation?
Dakota slipped around the hedge and, in spite of the darkness, Kathy recognized him instantly. She threw her arms around his neck and practically melted in his arms.
He stroked her hair and smiled. Apparently he had been missed.
Their mouths came together then, more in relief than passion, but an overwhelming pleasure squeezed his heart. At that mind-spinning moment, he felt loved.
Beautifully, thoroughly loved. An illusion, maybe. But a damn good one.
"We can't stay," he whispered as they came up for air. "We have to go back." The job had taken longer than he'd expected, and they couldn't afford to arouse Payune's suspicion anymore than they already had.
"I know," she responded, stroking his face as though his features might disappear if she didn't touch him.
They walked back to the palace, but before they re-entered the ballroom, Kathy stopped and let out a breath. "Do I look a mess?"
He smiled. Her hair fell about her shoulders in gorgeous disarray and her cheeks as well as her lips were flushed. "You look thoroughly kissed, sweetheart."
She didn't return his smile. "I have to freshen up before anyone sees me." She glanced down at her shoes. "Oh, goodness. They have grass stains."
He suppressed an amused grin. Her shoes were green to begin with, an emerald satin that matched her dress. "I don't think anyone will notice. But I'll escort you to the nearest powder room, so you can get yourself together. Okay?"
"Thank you."
"Kathy?" He took her hand. "Afterward, will you dance with me?"
She went stiff, her hand suddenly cold. "I promised him a dance."
And Payune would be waiting, Dakota thought. "Don't worry, you'll get through it. And if he tries to monopolize your time, I'll cut in." Dakota wanted to hold her, just once more. In spite of the sexy things they had said to each other earlier, he knew they wouldn't be sharing the same bed tonight. Stars still lit up the sky and flowers still scented the air, but the moment had passed.
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