by Lyn Stone
"If you wish. May I ask the purpose of your visit this evening, the better to give you direction?"
Nina knew he was not asking out of politeness, but that he was required to know. "My half brother was the king's nephew. The one who was recently killed. A couple of the maids who knew him invited me by to talk."
"Ah yes, such a tragedy that was. Please approach through the main entrance. I will ring up and have someone meet you at the door. Have a pleasant visit, signorina."
"Thank you very much," she said, smiling, amazed that he was actually going to let her roam around unaccompanied. She took the well-lighted path to the left of the fountain and flower beds that graced the center of the enormous courtyard, though it led to the opposite side of the palace from the guesthouse where Desmond had lived. Periodically, she glanced over her shoulder until she saw that the guard had turned to mind his station at the gate. Then she quickly cut across to the other side.
Once surrounded by the verdant gardens, Nina felt even more vulnerable, rather than safe as she'd expected. So many times she had read about people experiencing the feeling of being followed and she felt that now. It must be guilt that prompted it, she realized, since she was not supposed to be here doing what she was doing.
So large were the palace grounds, it took her a good half hour, squeezing around hedges and ducking low-hanging limbs of trees to reach the back entrance to the guesthouse. She stopped to listen often to see whether anyone was behind her, but never saw or heard any indication that there was.
She had been on the lookout for guards patrolling, but had only noticed two marching slowly around the outer wings of the palace itself. They looked as if they were there for show more than anything else since they stared straight ahead, didn't alter the precision of their steps and never even scanned the grounds. Those offering real protection would probably be outside the walls to prevent the entry of anyone unauthorized. Nina shivered to think how easily she had gotten in. Had Desmond's killer gained entry this way? Surely the police had interviewed the guards on duty to find that out. She'd remind Ryan to get the names and do just that.
The lights were off in the guesthouse, and no one stood guard out back. There might be someone in front, she figured, so she would have to be careful, at least until she had completed her search. At that point, she wouldn't really care if she were caught. She would enjoy informing McDonough that he should have secured the place if he didn't want people inside it.
Boldly, Nina walked up to the back doors and opened them. One of the hinges squeaked in protest. Just inside the doorway, she slipped off her pumps and picked them up.
Through the large back windows, moonlight combined with the muted electric lanterns placed about the garden provided enough illumination to see her way around the dining and living room areas. Nina had a penlight in her purse, but didn't want to use it unless she had to.
The place seemed sterile as a newly built home, containing no feeling that anyone had ever lived here.
The floor felt a bit gritty beneath her feet. Nina crouched down and touched it, discovering another reason why the room lacked any warmth or lived-in qualities. Someone had rolled up the plush Persian rugs and removed them since she had been there.
Perhaps McDonough had ordered it done to go over the rugs for further traces of evidence. She hadn't thought he would be that thorough. Maybe she would have to reassess her opinion of him if that were the case.
She approached the area where the bloodstain had been, where Desmond had lain after the attack. She could see where his lifeblood had seeped through the rug and stained the light marble tiles. Unwilling to stand on the exact spot, Nina kept as close to the wall as possible.
"Ouch!" she yipped as she stepped on what felt like a tack. Quickly, she backed up to the hearth, dropped her shoes and sat down to pull the sharp object out of her instep. When she extracted it, she found it was not the tack she'd expected. Fishing out her penlight, she held it close to the object and examined it.
An earring! A clue? She had found a clue!
Of course, it might have been here for ages. Or it could belong to one of Desmond's friends, not the person who killed him. Still, it was something Mr. Royal Investigator had missed. Nina felt a glimmer of satisfaction in that. Now he would have to admit she could be of help to him.
She tucked the earring into the zippered compartment inside her purse, switched off the penlight, slung the purse over her shoulder and continued her search. Maybe she could find something else.
The house was larger than it seemed from the outside. The second bedroom she checked was the largest and probably the one Desmond had used. There were no clues to be found as far as Nina could determine. The drawers and wardrobe had been emptied. A fine dust coated everything. Fingerprinting dust, she supposed.
Nina had just reached the open door to the bathroom when she heard the noise. The hinge from the French doors off the dining room creaked.
It must be the guard from out front doing a routine check, she thought. She listened for a few seconds, then ducked into the bathroom and quietly closed the door. She stepped into the bathtub and crouched low behind the door of thick frosted glass to hide.
Oh, lord, where were her shoes? By the door? On the hearth?
Her heart hammered so loudly, she was afraid whoever had come in would hear it and find her immediately. Surely it was the guard from the front door doing a regular check. She hated to think who else it could be or why she was so frantic not to be discovered after all.
In spite of that reluctance to guess who was in the house with her, Nina did recall that no lights had come on just prior to or just after she'd heard that creak of the door. Wouldn't a guard need light to check the place out? No reason for him not to light up the place. Oh, God.
She remained exactly where she was as time passed, scarcely daring to breathe or shift her position against the end of the tub enclosure.
The air inside the bathroom felt exceedingly warm and she wished she could shrug out of her suit jacket. But she didn't dare move. Her silk blouse clung to her skin and her hose felt like they would melt on her legs. Perspiration dotted her face and made her scalp tingle. She was breathing through her mouth, practically panting. Nerves.
Now was no time to develop panic attacks, she cautioned herself. Be calm. Wait till they leave. Grab your shoes and get the heck out of here.
Furtive rustling sounds from the bedroom had her scrunching down even farther in the bathtub, holding her breath until there was a roaring in her ears. When she did draw in a deep breath, she recognized the acrid odor. Her nostrils began to burn and her eyes stung. Smoke!
The place was on fire!
In full-blown panic now, she scrambled to her feet and out of the tub. She grabbed the door handle, then stopped herself and flattened her palm against the door. Hot! She didn't dare open it. The fire roared and crackled audibly on the other side.
Hurriedly climbing up on the commode, Nina raked the curtains aside and shoved open the tiny window. No way could she fit through it, she thought, but she had to try.
Shoving her head, one shoulder and arm through the opening, she screamed for all she was worth. When she grew hoarse, she stopped and began wriggling, gaining only an inch now and then in her struggle to break free. Frustrated and panicked, she screamed again.
This time a siren screamed back. She glanced to her left. Glass and flames had burst outward through the front window of the living room.
People were running toward the guesthouse through the gardens, two men dashing toward her. McDonough shouted, but she couldn't distinguish his words.
"Help!" she cried. "Over here! I'm stuck!"
Together, Ryan and the other man dragged over a wrought-iron bench, climbed up and began hammering at the top part of the window that had her trapped, breaking the panes and mullions until the entire thing gave way. They roughly shifted her sideways so that her hips fit through the opening and finally yanked her free. The three of them tumbled
into the bushes below, landing in a heap.
She'd no sooner hit the ground than McDonough had her in his arms and was running away from the building. Oddly, she thought of the purse and the earring inside it. Grasping at the shoulder bag, she clutched it to her and sighed with relief. It was still on her shoulder. She hadn't lost her clue.
If it was a clue.
Chapter 4
Ryan dumped her unceremoniously into the back seat of a waiting car. "Are you hurt?" he growled, grasping her hands and bringing them to his face. He took a deep breath in each of her palms, then released her. A strange thing to do, she thought, looking down at them, flexing her fingers.
"Urn, no, I don't think," she replied, sounding rough, either from the smoke or the screams. Her hips were banged up and her throat felt raw. She glanced down and saw a cut on her lower leg from the broken glass. It stung a bit, but she was out of that firetrap and that was all that mattered to her at the moment.
"Good God, you're bleeding," he muttered, running his hand beneath her calf. Without warning, he slid both his hands up under her skirt and tugged down her ripped panty hose. She had no thought to object, as she watched him discard them and straighten her clothes.
"Medic! Over here!" he called, his voice deep and carrying on the night air above the racket around them. Then he spoke softly to her. "Listen to me, Nina. Did you see anyone inside the house?"
"No," she rasped. "Whoever set the fire was there, but I didn't see them."
"You didn't start it," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Of course not!"
A man in white came loping over. "Her leg," McDonough said, holding it to examine it himself now that it was bare. "Superficial cut, but it needs cleaning." He allowed the medic to look. "Let's get her over there."
He helped her out of the car and picked her up again, carrying her to the small white emergency vehicle that had pulled up several car lengths away in the middle of a flower bed. He set her inside the double doors in back. "Get in there and stay in there, you hear me? I'll be back in a minute."
Nina nodded and crawled up on the cot. She was exhausted. And scared. But no one would dare try to hurt her in front of so many people. Would they?
In the confusion, anyone could approach. The EMT started to climb in. If he closed those doors, she would be alone with a stranger. God, anyone could steal a white coat!
She scrambled out before he could stop her and began running. "McDonough! Ryan!" she yelled. Her voice wouldn't cooperate, emerging at little more than a ragged whisper. Oh, God, oh, God, where had he gone? "Ryan!"
Strong arms closed around her from behind and she began to struggle, determined to get away.
"Nina! Calm down. It's me. You're okay now," he said, his tone sounding angry, yet with the only power available to relieve her mind. He turned her around, grasping her shoulders. "Look at me."
Nina flung her arms around his neck and held on. "Don't leave," she gasped.
He lifted her again, holding her close, his jacket rough against her cheek, his face pressing hard against her hair.
"I've got you. I'm here, Nina. Settle down now. We'll go back to the ambulance and I promise I'll stay with you. Okay? You'll be fine. Safe."
She nodded, sniffling, as she burrowed as close to him as she could get. There was no one else in this entire country she could trust at the moment. "Thank God you were here!" Then a thought occurred. "Why were you here? How did you get here so quickly?"
"Followed you, you little nitwit. I just gave you too much slack in the leash."
"Leash?" she demanded, suddenly incensed. "What am I, a puppy?"
"Don't start with me, all right? I was minutes behind you, but you faked me out. From what you told the guard, I thought you'd gone into the palace to ask questions. By the time I found out you weren't there, the fire alarm sounded. Now hush. We'll discuss that later. Count on it."
"Okay," she murmured, grasping him tighter as another stranger approached.
"Take it easy," he said soothingly. "It's Dr. Chiara. He's the palace physician."
Ryan placed her back inside the ambulance and left her there with the doors open while he spoke with the doctor. Nina gave up trying to hear what they were saying. The noise outside obliterated everything else. She did keep her eye on him, however, to make certain he stayed near.
The doctor checked her out, administered oxygen and gave her an injection.
"I should send you to the hospital overnight," he told her.
"No!" she argued. "I just want to go back to my apartment."
Dr. Chiara addressed Ryan. "She should be fine, but watch her. If she shows any sign of respiratory distress, get her over to Augustus on the double." He patted her arm.
"I will, Nick. Thanks," Ryan said.
After the doctor had bandaged the cut on her leg, Ryan carried her back to the car he had taken her to after the rescue. This time he put her in front and went around to the driver's side.
"I wish you'd agree to go to the hospital," he grumbled.
"Not a chance."
"Stubborn."
Though he was obviously angry with her, he still hadn't upbraided her the way she'd expected, nor had he threatened her with any reprisals. But she knew he wasn't through with her. Not by a long shot.
As soon as he fastened his seat belt and checked hers, he sat there, silently pinning her with a gaze so intense, she felt interrogated already. Tired. Wrung out. Incredibly sleepy. "What in the world was in that shot?"
"Antibiotic," he snapped, then abruptly launched into another tirade. "You had no business being in that guesthouse. You nearly got yourself killed."
"I wanted to see for myself," she muttered, "because... because Desmond lived and died there. I promise you I didn't strike any matches."
He said nothing, and Nina felt obliged to fill the silence.
"I swear I didn't," she insisted, her words slurring. "I only wanted to be in there by myself, see if I could feel what he felt, what he was like. Only... only there was nothing there of him." Tears leaked down her cheeks and she swiped at them angrily. "And then..."
"Did you see anything?" McDonough asked finally.
"No, nothing. I was in the bedroom. Heard the back door creak. I hid in the bathroom, in the shower. Next thing I knew, the place was on fire."
"Whoever started it used an accelerant. Had to, in order for it to spread that quickly," he told her. "The arsonist went out through the back. As soon as the guard out front saw flames through the window, he reported it."
"You sniffed my hands," she accused. "You thought I set it." Nina wished she could summon the energy to get really angry about that. But she was so tired.
"And now I know you didn't." He sighed. "You need to get to bed."
Panic begin to rise again. "You won't leave?"
His mouth quirked, more in resignation than reassurance, she thought. "No. I won't be leaving."
"Thanks," she said, breathing the word as she leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She felt like a hundred and ten pounds of molten lead.
Nina was vaguely aware of the car stopping near the flashing lights of the fire truck and Ryan speaking to someone out the car window, but she couldn't seem to rouse herself enough to listen to the conversation.
Tomorrow he would tell her everything he had found out. Tomorrow, when she showed him the earring, he would have to agree that she'd discovered something his team had overlooked, even if it was insignificant. Then he would take her attempts to help seriously. He would have to.
The car rolled forward, soon picked up speed, and the noises associated with fighting the fire faded into the distance. She yawned widely, drawing in much needed oxygen to try and stay awake, but her eyelids refused to open.
"Not antibiotic," Nina guessed.
"Nope."
"'Gainst the law," she said, yawning again, wishing she sounded more irate.
"Sue me in the morning." Had he chuckled? Was he laughing at her?
>
"Found a clue," Nina murmured, hardly able to form the words.
"What?" he demanded. No humor now, she noted. "What did you find?"
She sensed his full attention on her now. Payback time. Nina allowed her head to loll to one side on the headrest and faked a soft snore. She knew the second or third snore would probably be for real and tried not to smile.
* * *
The smell of fresh coffee ought to bring her around, Ryan thought as he waved the steaming cup of it close to her nose.
She gave a little grunt of pleasure in her throat and turned her head on the pillow, following the scent. Her eyes opened slowly, lids still at half-mast as she licked her lips.
Ryan could no more suppress his rush of lust than he could have held back the tide in the harbor. The feeling took him by surprise at the oddest times. She should be haggard and pale after the night she'd endured. Instead she looked as if she'd given some lucky man a wild night of hot sex. No, not that exactly, he decided. Too innocent for that. Too unaware of her sensuality.
He continued to tempt her with the coffee, moving it closer, then drawing it away to watch her seek it out. Then he realized what he was doing and stopped the motion immediately.
He took a fortifying breath and looked away as he spoke. "C'mon, Nina, wake up. How am I supposed to get any work done if you sleep all day?"
She slowly pushed herself up until she was leaning on one elbow. His peripheral vision caught that and also noted the covers slipping down around her waist.
He'd undressed her in the dark last night, leaving her bra and panties on so she wouldn't freak out when she woke up. Still, he'd had a rough time getting to sleep on her sofa after that. His imagination had been working overtime, fueled by the remembered sensation of her velvety skin against his hands.
The touching had been unavoidable, of course. Inadvertent and innocent. Totally innocent. Reliving it later and adding fantasies was not, he admitted. Neither were his thoughts at the moment, seeing her deliciously rumpled, tousled and sleepy-eyed.
"Timeizzit?" she grumbled, reaching for the coffee like it was an antidote to poison she'd just ingested.
