Meri knew she looked good enough to attract the playboy Prince’s attention; holding onto it would be the trick.
It frustrated her that they knew so little about Jarek. He hadn’t been photographed since leaving Aslandia ten years ago to retreat in some sort of sulky seclusion. The royal heir had often quarreled with his father, the late King Baran, and there had been rumors that after one huge blow-up, Jarek had been deliberately exiled.
Still, Meri had no doubt the prince had languishing on some private palatial estate where a battalion of servants had provided him with an endless supply of nymphomaniac supermodels, designer drugs, and gold-dusted peacock tongues or whatever the royals nibbled on these days.
“God, I already hate him,” Meri muttered under her breath.
“What’s that, my dear?” Saral asked.
She forced a smile. “I said I can’t wait to meet him.”
One the jet taxied to a stop Prince Jarek’s entourage disembarked, and then the heir himself stepped out into the sunlight. Tall and dark like most Aslandians, he had a piercing gaze that seemed to take in everything at once.
Meri found herself holding her breath as the prince walked down to the red carpet and strolled toward the reception party. Jarek moved like some large, predatory feline, effortless but intent. He had the same brilliant blue eyes as his father, but his seemed to glitter with more fire than Baran’s infamous glacial star. Naturally he had the perfect grooming all royals seemed to pull off, right down to the manicured nails. On him, however, it looked more like a disguise. Beneath it Meri sensed power and purpose that a spoiled playboy shouldn’t have possessed, much less concealed.
Just who was this guy, anyway?
Jarek stopped as his father’s chief advisor offered a low bow and gave the nod. The advisor instantly offered his condolences, which he deftly turned into a flowery welcome speech.
“Yes, it is good to be home,” Jarek said in his deep British-accented voice, cutting short the advisor’s fawning outpourings. “I will go to the palace now.”
Meri jumped as the prince’s gaze met hers, and he beckoned. She moved quickly to present herself, dipping into the expected curtsey. When he nodded, she said, “Welcome home, Your Majesty.”
“You are American.” He gave her the once-over. “Pretty hair. This blouse does not suit you. What is your name?”
“Meri Madison, Your Majesty.” She felt flattered and insulted, all at once. “I’m here to interview and photograph you for World Times Magazine.”
“Is that all you want to do?” Before she could reply Jarek turned to the chief advisor. “She will ride with me to the palace.”
Chapter Two
Once safely inside the state limousine, Geoff raised the privacy screen and watched the American trying not to fidget. Given the director’s warning he’d expected her to be quite attractive, which she was. Seeing the gleam of her hair in the sunlight had drawn his attention at once – he’d never seen a woman with such fetching white-gold hair – but the elegance of her platform diver’s had made his cock twitch.
Recognizing the keen intelligence in her hazel eyes, however, had immediately put him on his guard.
Geoff could fool most of the world into believing his various impersonations; even in today’s world of stolen identities and hidden personas most people accepted without question that you were who you claimed to be. Instinctively he knew that Meri Madison wasn’t one of them.
Since she’d knocked him a bit off kilter, Geoff decided to return the favor. “You are very nervous with me,” he said. “Why?”
She moved her shoulders. “I’ve never been alone with a prince. To be honest, I’ve never even met one before you, Your Majesty.”
“You may call Jarek when we are alone.” Geoff glanced out the window at the shouting, waving masses lining either side of the road to the palace. Poor bastards had no idea that when his mission was complete they’d be mourning the man whose homecoming they’d gathered to cheer. “Your name, what does it mean?”
“Meri?” She seemed startled now. “It’s an abbreviated form of my given name, Meredith.”
He remembered not to laugh, and instead arched his brows. “You are named for a happy end? A merry death?”
She pressed her lips together for a moment before she said, “My grandmother, actually, who is not merry and will probably live forever. I’ve heard that your namesake was a very famous Aslandian hero.”
“Jarek the First.” He nodded. “He founded the family dynasty while defending my country against the barbarian hordes, slavers, prospectors and the like. He was not very politically correct about it, was he?”
“Maybe that’s how he got his name,” she said carefully. “Among other things he kidnapped a princess and forced her to marry him and bear his twelve children. History remembers him as Jarek the Ruthless.”
“Perhaps he should have been called Jarek the Fertile.” He liked that she’d done her homework. “Now you will wish to know if I intend to follow in his footsteps. If I am as merciless as my ancestor.”
“I’d never presume to question your intentions or your character, Your – Jarek.” She made a face. “That said, the international community is very curious about you. My editor gave me a list of question to ask, if I ever got the chance.”
He’d wager it was an endless list, too. “These are personal questions?” When she nodded he made a languid gesture. “You may ask one now, and then you will answer one for me.”
“Fair enough. Why did you stay away for ten years,” she said, “and why did you really come back?”
“A conjunction does now make two questions into one,” he chided. “You don’t follow instructions very well, do you?”
“Occupational hazard.” She straightened her spine. “All right, then, one question: what have you been doing for the last ten years?”
“Preparing for this day.” He smiled at the annoyance that flared in her eyes. “Now you will answer mine. What would you do if I kissed you, right now?”
She went still. “Ah, nothing.”
Geoff reached out and took her slim hand in his. “Are you quite sure of that?”
Meri nodded slowly, and then gasped as he tugged her across the space between them. “Your Majesty, please. You can’t—”
“I am a crown prince of Aslandia. Here I can do anything I like.” He cupped her chin. “Do you understand that?”
Meri nodded slowly. “You’re not at all what I expected.”
“Good.” Geoff brought her palm to his mouth, and pressed a kiss in the center of it before he released her. “You will have dinner with me tonight, and I will show you more things . . . unexpected.”
#
“There.” Holanna, the palace maid assigned to Meri, stepped back and smiled. “You look beautiful, Miss Madison.”
“Uh-huh.” Meri glanced down at the slinky gold silk dress Jarek had sent for her to wear. “I’m guessing this is dry-clean only?”
“Do not concern yourself. You will not be wearing it very long.” The Aslandian woman stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Piscas bid me say you should provide him with a memento of your evening with the Prince. Something useful to the cartel.”
Meaning something they could use as blackmail to control the prince. Pretending to work for a bunch of terrorists in order to expose their grip on Aslandia had forced Meri to do some nasty things, but this assignment was exceptionally slimy.
“His Majesty may not want to have sex with me,” Meri pointed out. “And even if he does, my cameras are all locked up in the palace media room.”
Holanna nodded and tucked a golden orchid behind Meri’s ear. “Take this bloom and place it anywhere within three feet of the prince’s bed. It has a micro recorder inside the petals.”
So she’d have to accidentally on purpose wreck the flower, Meri thought, and nodded. “All right, I’ll do my best.”
“Piscas will reward you handsomely for your efforts,” the maid said. “Only be sure
that the sex is of the sort to cause a scandal for the prince.”
“You mean, kinky and twisted,” Meri said.
Holanna spread her hands. “When it comes to sex, Aslandians are very traditional, conservative people, Miss Madison. You need only encourage His Majesty to tie you up, perhaps administer some intimate discipline. That will serve our purpose very well.”
Since her quarters were in the guest wing, Meri had to walk across the sumptuous palace to Prince Jarek’s private dining room. Passing through the royal gallery made her glance at the portraits of every king since Jarek the Ruthless had spawned his dynasty. All of them were dark, blue-eyed men who projected such intensity and menace she felt as if her insides would curdle.
Why didn’t Jarek have the same effect on her?
“Because I’m hot for him,” she muttered as she stepped out of the gallery and stopped before the guards flanking the entrance to the royal wing. “Good evening,” she said politely. “Ms. Madison to have dinner with His Majesty.”
One of the guards handed off his ceremonial sword to the other and frisked her with an impersonal efficiency before searching her clutch. When he finished, he nodded to his partner, who opened the door for her.
“Thank you,” Meri said through her clenched teeth, and walked down another portrait-lined passage. At the end of it another guard glanced over her before admitting her to the king’s private chambers.
As she walked in, Meri had the sense of passing through a looking glass into another realm. The king’s private dining room had rarely been seen by outsiders and had never been photographed by anyone but the royal historians.
Dark blue-flocked walls, hung with incredibly intricate Aslandian tapestries and sporting marble medallions carved with the royal family’s crest, soared over her head to curve above three enormous crystal chandeliers. A polished mahogany table long enough to seat two hundred comfortably occupied the center of a tennis court-size hand-knotted carpet. Real candles, not electric lights, illuminated the splendid porcelain, crystal and silver table settings. Huge vases of fresh flowers and small objects d’art occupied every corner table, wall nook and pedestal.
At the far end of the table sat Prince Jarek, whose sapphire eyes followed her every move.
“This is breath-taking,” she said, remaining on the far side of the table. “The dusting alone must take days.”
“Weeks, I should think.” Jarek rose and came to her, his Savile Row suit as perfect as his hair and his smile. “This dress suits you very well. Much better than that dreadful blouse from this morning.”
“It does.” Meri would bet he was already thinking about taking it off her, too. “You have an eye for fashion, Your Majesty. Maybe I should have you do all my clothes shopping.”
“Ah, but I lack motivation.” Jarek reach out and caressed her cheek. “I’d rather have you naked.
Chapter Three
Dining with Prince Jarek proved as easy as flirting with him. He had the prerequisite meticulous table manners, of course, but he actually ate instead of politely picking. He also pointed out to her some traditional Aslandian dishes he enjoyed, and coaxed her into describing some of her childhood favorites.
“San Francisco sourdough bread is almost a cliché now,” she admitted. “But I still miss it – and steamed shrimp from Fisherman’s Wharf, too.”
Jarek nodded at a servant waiting to clear. “What is the most delicious thing you ever tasted as a girl?”
She thought for a moment. “In the fall we’d drive up to Napa Valley, where my parents would buy their annual stock of wine. All along the road there would be pickers selling crates of fresh-picked table grapes off the back of old trucks. My dad would buy a box for me and my sister. The color of good jade, straight off the vine, still warm from the sun – and so sweet they put candy to shame.”
His eyelids drooped. “Do you live in California now?”
“My family still does. No, thank you,” she said to servant who offered her coffee. “I spend most of my time traveling, so I just keep a tiny apartment in New York City.”
Jarek made a dismissive gesture, and all of the servants bowed and retreated. “So you are a vagabond. That explains the yearning in your eyes.”
Meri blinked. “I have everything I want, Your Majesty. An exciting career that provides the chance to travel the globe, and meet very interesting people.”
“Exciting, but lonely.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. “You know the feeling, Meri.”
The warmth of his skin distracted her. “Sorry?”
“What you feel when you open your eyes it in that hour just before dawn,” he said softly. “When you wake in a strange, cold bed in some anonymous room. For a moment you can’t remember the name of the hotel, the city, or the reason you went there.” His gaze took on a faraway quality. “No one within a thousand miles to call friend. No happy tidings, no fond farewells. Only that cold, empty bed with its plastic-cased pillows, and sanitized sheets.”
For some reason her heart clenched in her chest. “Is that how you’ve been living all these years away, Jarek?”
That snapped him out of his trance. “You’re asking unsolicited personal questions again. I could have you dragged out of here in shackles.”
“To where?” she countered. “Prison, or your bed room?”
He tilted his head. “Would I need shackles for the latter?”
Suddenly Meri wanted to run out of the palace and jump on the first plane back to the states. “Now you’re asking unsolicited questions, Your Majesty.”
“In one week I will be king. Now I am not. Answer me.” He issued the command like an intimate caress.
This felt like the moment she would either love or hate for the rest of her life. “You wouldn’t need them.”
Jarek stood and held out his hand. “Then come with me, my Meri.”
#
As soon as the prince led her across the threshold of his bed chamber, Meri suspected she’d just made the best mistake of her life.
The room in which dozens of Aslandian kings had slept had been everywhere adored in the royal sapphire blue and gold. A bed so large it resembled a boxing ring without ropes lay waiting, a corner of the silken coverlet atop it turned back. On the opposite side of the room a sunken golden marble bath waited, wisps of steam dancing across the mirror-like surface of the water.
Jarek closed the door and came up behind Meri, his big hands gripping her waist. “I was conceived in this room.”
“Why did your parents ever leave it?” She turned around, smiling up at him. “Why do you?”
“The most beautiful things in the world are still only things.” He rubbed his knuckles down her cheek. “They’re not warm. They don’t laugh. They exist only to be admired.”
She rested one hand against his broad chest. “I thought that’s what you were, Your Majesty.”
He shook his head. “What you see is not what you will get, my Meri.”
The kiss happened so fast he swallowed her gasp, and then ravished her mouth. Dimly Meri felt him hoist her off her feet and carry her over to the royal bed, where he fell on top of her and pinned her with his weight. Jarek kept kissing her, taking her wrists in his hand and stretching them over her head.
“I did not like that lace blouse you wore this morning.” He cupped her mound with a big, sure hand. “It was smothering your breasts.” He pulled aside the dress to bare her nipple. “I am putting my mouth on you now.”
Meri tucked her chin in to watch him envelope her peak and begin suckling her. Every dormant snoozing nerve ending in her body promptly woke up screaming for more.
“Please.” Meri had to struggle to get her throat to work. “Let me, ah, get undressed.”
“I will do this.” Jarek rolled her onto her belly and unzipped the dress, baring her spine. He then kissed his way from her nape to the rise of her bottom, stopping to nibble here and there, and then retraced his path with one slow, luxurious lick on his tongue.
> “Please, sir.” Meri groaned as he nipped her earlobe. “You’re not my maid.”
“I like it when you call me sir,” he muttered as he flipped her onto her back. “Do it again.”
“Yes, sir.” Meri felt the orchid in her hair slip, and reached up to remove it. Jarek’s fingers reached it first, and after untangling the stem, he tossed it away.
When it plopped in water Meri went still. A tiny pop and hiss followed as the electronics embedded in the artificial flower shorted out.
Jarek slowly lifted his head and peered toward the bath, and then down at her. “How are you with a rock hammer?”
Before she could answer him, Jarek pushed himself off the bed and went to the bath, pulling up his sleeve as he reached in and retrieved the orchid. He tugged at one of the petals, and then stripped them away from the tiny camera concealed within the bloom.
Meri watched the sodden petals drop to the floor around his feet. In her head she heard the child’s daisy-plucking chant of He loves me, he loves me not . . . .
Jarek ended with not.
“I was not aware that World Times Magazine had become a tabloid.” He held up the device. “Or is this some private endeavor, Ms. Madison?”
“I’m working undercover,” she said quickly, clambering off the bed but keeping it between her and Jarek. “I’ve been investigating a terrorist cartel operating within Aslandia. One of their chiefs, a casino manager named Piscas, believes I work for him. I was to use that to record our, ah, activities. I did so only to maintain his trust in me, you understand.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” A muscle on Jarek’s jaw ticked. “One should always make a sex tape with a crown prince in order to maintain cover. It is in all the spy manuals.” He strode over to the wall and pressed a button. “Send two guards to attend me.”
“Please don’t throw me in a mine,” Meri found herself begging. “I can give you all my notes, photographs, lists – some of these thugs are running your government, Your Majesty. I can help you free Aslandia from the claws of graft and corruption.”
MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance) Page 154
