by Mary Buckham
"The wedding is back on schedule. It will happen three weeks from yesterday."
"Three weeks?" The words came out as a squeak. "I'm supposed to keep this up for three weeks?"
"You've had no problem with it so far."
"It's been one day." She knew she sounded slightly hysterical. She felt that, but darn if she could pinpoint exactly why. "There's no way I can fool Elena's real family for long and they're bound to show up here sooner or later."
"I told you when we first arrived, it's being taken care of."
"How?"
"Pavlov Rostov is having some difficulty with his overseas investments. They're requiring him to handle them personally."
"Oh." What more could she say? If she'd had doubts about the power behind the obscure government agency he worked for before, there were none now. "You can manipulate something like that?"
One of his brows arched. "I'd prefer another term than manipulate."
"You know what I mean. Why do you bother with this elaborate hoax? Why don't you just dictate to Tarkioff and Rostov what they will and won't do and be done with it?"
"We don't work that way." He gave her a long, all-too-seeing look. "We've also sidestepped the real issue here."
She felt like a petulant, unreasonable child being called to task. "The real issue is that three weeks is too long. I can't possibly not make a mistake in that time."
"That's a double negative."
She wanted to toss her juice over his head. "That's reality. There's no way I can go on pretending I'm somebody I'm not for three weeks."
"You're doing fine so far."
"You're not listening to me." She wondered if he was taught obstinacy or if it just came naturally. "We're talking about three weeks of dinners, and functions and…" She waved her free hand, "…and things."
"Things?" She could have sworn his lips twitched.
"You know what I mean. Who's off the subject now?"
He reached for her glass, probably afraid she'd either drop it or bean him with it. "I'm sure you're still tired and not thinking clearly."
"Don't you dare do that dictator-to-subordinate thing with me here," she warned him. Not that it fazed him in the least.
"We'll take this one day at a time."
"And if I say no to something, is it still a go?"
His face registered nothing. A very neat trick to avoid commitment, she realized, wishing she could do the same.
"We'll take this one day at a time."
"You sound like a parrot." She turned to stare out the window, not caring if it was a juvenile move.
"You have no other meetings today. You can spend the afternoon resting in your room at the villa."
She held back the inclination to snap him a salute—barely, but didn't bother to respond. She knew he wasn't waiting for one. It wasn't a suggestion as much as an order, one he'd give to a balky child who was not behaving.
But maybe some time alone was exactly what she needed—time when she wasn't being watched, weighed and analyzed by this man or anyone else. Time to deal with the fact she'd be almost in his hip pocket for another three weeks. Time to figure out if that was bad news—or good news.
A little over two hours later she found she'd survived. More than that, she'd actually enjoyed herself. That and the fact that, at the very end, when she was getting her hand squeezed by a number of dignitaries who all looked alike, McConneghy had taken her aside, gesturing to a line of ordinary-looking people waiting to meet her.
"A compromise?" she asked, touched that he'd actually listened, and maybe even understood, a little.
"A compromise." He nodded toward where a half dozen men stood, controlling the line by the positioning of their bodies. "Watch them. They're here to protect you."
Risking themselves, she realized, even as she stepped forward to accept the first handshake from a man who looked as if he'd spent every day toiling in the fields, his skin weathered, his hands roughened by calluses. One after another they came, their smiles tentative, their manner wary. And yet they came, judging her silently. Not her, but their future queen, Jane thought, greeting them all, until her hand felt like putty and her legs quaked.
It was McConneghy who came to her rescue. Again.
"Time to go," he murmured as she smiled into the face of a woman who must have been a hundred if she was a day.
"Did I meet everyone on Vendari?" she asked as he escorted her out of the hall and into the blazing afternoon sun.
He gave her a skeptical glance as he opened the limo door. "Rethinking your position?"
"No." She laughed, surprised at how good it felt to sink into the leather seats. "Not at all. I just hadn't realized how much work is involved in shaking hands. I always thought dignitaries and movie stars were spoiled and lazy."
"And now?" He'd opened a bottle of orange juice, poured it into a crystal glass and handed it to her; its taste was ambrosia on her tongue.
"And now I take back every petty, envious, unjustified thought I had about them."
"You did a good job back there."
The words both surprised her and pleased her, she realized, shoving away the feeling that it was much like being a child seeking approval. A feeling she knew only too well. Instead she changed the subject.
"Thank you for making it possible for me to meet those people."
This time he was the one who looked surprised.
"You mean for Elena to meet them."
She knew the smile on her face wavered, but she kept it there, even as she turned her gaze away. It was silly that his words should hurt, especially following a compliment she knew was sincere. But they did. It was as though he was reminding her she was a fake. None of this was real and she was only doing a job.
"You never told me how long I'd be here," she found herself remarking, knowing she'd meant to ask the question earlier, surprised at the conflicting feelings it aroused in her. On the one hand she'd be able to get back to her real life, the one where she belonged, not walking around in silks and pretending she was somebody important. On the other hand it would mean never seeing Lucius McConneghy again, a man, who by all rights, she should despise. But the anger wouldn't come, nor the bitterness. No matter how hard she tried.
"The wedding is back on schedule. It will happen three weeks from yesterday."
"Three weeks?" The words came out as a squeak. "I'm supposed to keep this up for three weeks?"
"You've had no problem with it so far."
"It's been one day." She knew she sounded slightly hysterical. She felt that, but darn if she could pinpoint exactly why. "There's no way I can fool Elena's real family for long and they're bound to show up here sooner or later."
"I told you when we first arrived, it's being taken care of."
"How?"
"Pavlov Rostov is having some difficulty with his overseas investments. They're requiring him to handle them personally."
"Oh." What more could she say? If she'd had doubts about the power behind the obscure government agency he worked for before, there were none now. "You can manipulate something like that?"
One of his brows arched. "I'd prefer another term than manipulate."
"You know what I mean. Why do you bother with this elaborate hoax? Why don't you just dictate to Tarkioff and Rostov what they will and won't do and be done with it?"
"We don't work that way." He gave her a long, all-too-seeing look. "We've also sidestepped the real issue here."
She felt like a petulant, unreasonable child being called to task. "The real issue is that three weeks is too long. I can't possibly not make a mistake in that time."
"That's a double negative."
She wanted to toss her juice over his head. "That's reality. There's no way I can go on pretending I'm somebody I'm not for three weeks."
"You're doing fine so far."
"You're not listening to me." She wondered if he was taught obstinacy or if it just came naturally. "We're talking about three weeks of dinners, and fun
ctions and…" She waved her free hand, "…and things."
"Things?" She could have sworn his lips twitched.
"You know what I mean. Who's off the subject now?"
He reached for her glass, probably afraid she'd either drop it or bean him with it. "I'm sure you're still tired and not thinking clearly."
"Don't you dare do that dictator-to-subordinate thing with me here," she warned him. Not that it fazed him in the least.
"We'll take this one day at a time."
"And if I say no to something, is it still a go?"
His face registered nothing. A very neat trick to avoid commitment, she realized, wishing she could do the same.
"We'll take this one day at a time."
"You sound like a parrot." She turned to stare out the window, not caring if it was a juvenile move.
"You have no other meetings today. You can spend the afternoon resting in your room at the villa."
She held back the inclination to snap him a salute—barely, but didn't bother to respond. She knew he wasn't waiting for one. It wasn't a suggestion as much as an order, one he'd give to a balky child who was not behaving.
But maybe some time alone was exactly what she needed—time when she wasn't being watched, weighed and analyzed by this man or anyone else. Time to deal with the fact she'd be almost in his hip pocket for another three weeks. Time to figure out if that was bad news—or good news.
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Jane had barely waved off Ekaterina's solicitous offers of a warm bath or back massage when they'd returned to the villa when there was a knock at the door.
It shouldn't have surprised her to see McConneghy there, but it did. Obviously the man's idea of some time alone was different than hers. And here she'd thought she was going to have communication problems with the people of Vendari.
"Yes?" She had hardly got the door open before he brushed past her.
"Good. You're not busy."
"Define busy." If he thought she was ready to head out to another reception or dedication they really were going to have to work on a few issues.
As if he read her mind, he grinned. "Don't worry. My plans involve pleasure, not business."
Brain cell overload. It was the only excuse she could think of for standing there like a ninny with her mouth open.
Either that or she'd shelved one too many copies of Cosmo in the library stacks. The ones with headlines like Hunk Fantasies Can Come True or If He Asks Will You Say Yes?
"Excuse me?" she managed to stammer.
"Come along. We'll get what we need there."
He was heading out the door, with her scrambling to keep up with his long-legged stride, before she could ask the simple questions. Like what did they need? And where were they going?
He never slowed until they'd traversed at least a mile of hallways, three sets of stairs and four posts with armed bodyguards. Ones that saluted religiously as McConneghy came in sight.
A neat trick if you could do it.
"Where?" she tried to ask, but lost the train of her thoughts as she plowed into his broad back.
Rubbing her nose she peered around her. They were in a new area of the villa. Which wasn't unusual, given she'd been limited in her movements thus far to the gym, dining area and her bedroom. But this section was at the very rear of the building, at a level below the main structure, which she could see over her shoulder. If she wanted to look in that direction.
Which she didn't, given what was in front of her.
"A pool?" she muttered.
"Of course it's a pool." If his tone hadn't been light she would have had to slug him and deal with the consequences. "I thought a few laps would be nice."
Heavenly was more like it. A librarian's salary didn't run to luxuries such as regular pool access, but every once in a while, in the dead of a South Dakota winter, she'd splurge and spend several hours at the local YWCA in their overly chlorinated, nothing-like-this pool.
The pool before her was shaped like a kidney bean, with glazed tiles on the bottom, an overhead glass canopy and lush tropical foliage discreetly set around the perimeter. Definitely heavenly.
There was one little detail, though.
Glancing down at her silk outfit she cast the man beside her a look she knew only a woman possessed. The one that said—Get a clue.
"I don't know about you but I'm not used to swimming in my dress clothes."
He had the audacity to grin, and nod toward a lattice-enclosed area.
"There's a changing room inside. And several swimsuits sized for Elena."
"But—"
"All new, of course," he added. The man was a bloody mind reader.
"She keeps unused swimsuits on hand just in case?"
"It's a prerogative of the rich and indulged."
Go figure. Still, the librarian in her hesitated. There was something too decadent, too frivolous about spending the middle of an afternoon, or even the later part of one, splashing around a pool. It wasn't work. It was pure play, and responsible, practical adults did not play in the middle of the day. At least this one hadn't been raised that way.
"I thought you'd enjoy this," he said at her side, those laser eyes of his boring through to all the secrets in her soul.
"Yes, but—"
"But?"
"It's hard to explain."
"Try, anyway."
The man was relentless. No news there.
She looked longingly at the pool before sighing. "You, of all people should understand."
He gave her one of those arched-eyebrow looks that made her want to cringe before he asked. "Come again?"
"You know. Duty, honor, country."
"You've lost me."
Yeah, like that would really happen. She tried again. "Tell me in all honesty, that you'd be able to stop in the middle of one of your days to splash around in a pool? You know, responsibility before pleasure. That kind of thing."
He looked at her, really, really looked at her a few moments before lowering his head and shaking it. At first, with the small muscle spasms impacting him, she thought he might be choking, until she realized he was laughing. At her. The beast.
"What's so all-fired funny?" she demanded, finding it hard to hold her temper before his mirth. She didn't think Lucius McConneghy laughed aloud a lot.
"You are." He wiped one eye. "You're telling me you'll feel guilty for taking a swim?"
The man nailed it in a nutshell. Another nifty trick.
"And if I do?" she countered.
"Get over it. Take your swim. Enjoy it. You've earned it."
She was sure there was some thread of logic she could unravel to refute what she knew deep down she wanted to do. But the water was calling. Loudly.
"Fine." She'd simply have to ignore the last twinge of decadent irresponsibility. "Maybe just this once."
The suit she found in the changing room was like everything else of Elena's. Too revealing. No one-piece maillot in basic black for the future queen.
But there was something about the quick intake of Lucius's breath when she appeared in it that was well worth her initial discomfort. Especially when it took him a moment or two to clear his throat and respond when she asked if he was joining her in the pool.
"No."
The answer stopped her descent into the shallow end.
"What do you mean no?"
"I mean I'll sit over here and read a magazine while you enjoy yourself."
Great. She got to play while he still had to work. That made it real easy to relax.
"What now?" he asked when she remained standing in the shallow end.
"Do you ever get to stop being in control?"
By the look on his face, one quickly banked, she thought she'd hit a hot button. But his voice betrayed nothing. "I'm on duty as long as you're in Vendari."
Not the answer she wanted to hear. Though why it should bother her was new. She'd known all along theirs was nothing but a temporary, if very intense, r
elationship based on an unusual circumstance. Of course there'd be no relaxing in a pool. Together. Or anything else—together. Except staying alive.
His voice broke through her musings. "You've gone quiet on me when you should be swimming and enjoying yourself."
"Of course."
The look she gave him tugged at him in ways he'd never known were possible. Disappointment. Vulnerability. A brave smile plastered over what? Did it really matter that much if he didn't swim with her?
Lucius didn't even realize he'd been holding his breath until she slid farther into the pool and submerged her head.
It had seemed like a great idea, a little while ago. Letting her take a few laps in the private pool, one only himself, the king and the king's brother ever used. Elena would never appear here as there wasn't enough of an audience around for her. But, by the light in Jane's eye, she could appreciate what a sanctuary this small enclave meant. A respite from public scrutiny. A way to stretch out knotted muscles and be off stage, if even for a few moments.
At least that's what Lucius had wanted for Jane.
He watched as she began to swim sure and methodical laps through the water. Her form strong and sure. Her figure holding his attention more than it should, even all-but-invisible though the churning water.
The lady was getting to him. Big-time. And that was a danger he'd have to guard against. Admiration was one thing. Anything else could compromise the mission and jeopardize her chances of survival.
"The water really is very nice." She'd stopped swimming and was treading water in the deep end. "Are you sure you have to stay over there?"
No siren's call ever sounded so sweet. Would it hurt to join her? His own guards stood on the other side of the far door. Lord knew he had his own share of clenched muscles and tension to release.
