To Catch a Princess (Entangled Ignite)

by Caridad Piñeiro

  She was lost to him, she recognized that now. No man could ever make her feel this way again. This whole, as if a piece of her had been missing, but was now found.

  She loved him.

  She jerked away and met his gaze. She had to move. Had to show him just how much she cared for him.

  With a shift of her hips, she rose, then sank down again, beginning the rhythm to take them to completion. His hands were hard on her waist, guiding her. His mouth on her breasts as he urged her on with murmured words of love.

  “You are so lovely, Tatiana. So precious to me.”

  “I…I love you, Peter,” she said, no longer able to keep it in. “I love you,” she repeated with complete certainty.

  He gently urged her to stop and brushed back a stray lock of her hair. Cradling her face with his hands, he said, “I love you, too, solnyshko moyo. You have brought light into my life. Joy.”

  “Oh, Peter,” she murmured, and started to move on him again, pushing them over the edge until they came, calling out each other’s names as their release washed over them.

  Chapter 17

  Tatiana awoke in Peter’s embrace, savoring the quiet of the morning and the feel of his strong arms holding her close. Finally at peace after the turbulence of the events of the last twenty-four hours. Emotional and physical upset which being with him had soothed.

  Today was likely to be another trying day.

  She had to deal with the designers with whom she had not met the day before, and more of the royals who had offered their jewels for use in the show would be arriving. She’d be hosting a dinner for them later that night where they could mingle with the designers.

  “I can hear the gears turning,” Peter said in a husky morning whisper.

  She propped her elbow on his chest and looked at him. He lay there, eyes closed, the shadow of his morning beard darkening his features.

  “There’s a lot to do today.”

  A grin erupted across his lips, but he still kept his eyes closed. “Yep. I can think of a lot of things I’d like to do.”

  “I can imagine,” she said, laughter in her voice as she trailed her thigh along his leg and over his morning erection. “I hate to be cruel—”

  “Then don’t be. Stay with me just a little longer,” he urged, and laid his hand over her thigh to keep her from shifting away. She smiled and brushed her hand over his chest, content to do as he asked. “I like waking up beside you.”

  He grinned and smoothed his hand along her body to cup her breast. Her nipple immediately hardened from his touch and his grin broadened. “We could make this a regular thing.”

  “How regular?” She circled her finger around his masculine nipple and beneath her thigh, his erection grew ever larger.

  “Since I’m not the kind of guy who does this with just anyone—”

  “Glad to hear that. So how regular?”

  The lighter mood he had been in turned serious and he suddenly rolled, trapping her beneath him and fixing his gaze on her face. “I’m sorry again about not telling you everything.”

  She raked her fingers through his hair, smoothing down the longer tousled strands at the top. “It’s okay, Peter. I was hurt, but I understand why you found it so hard to share your past.” She lightened her solemn expression. “However, I’ll gladly let you make it up to me, if you’re game.”

  “I’m game, solnyshko moyo. Every day, every night, and every morning if that’s what you want,” he said. She tangled her fingers in his hair and smiled up at him. “Is that a proposal, Peter?”

  “Do you want it to be?”

  She thought about it for all of a second. “Yes.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and bent his head until his lips were barely an inch from hers. “Princess Maria Theresa Tatiana Christiania Ivanov. Could you find it in your heart to marry me—Detective Peter Roman, that is, not Velikiy Knjaz Pyotr Romanovich?”

  “In a heartbeat,” she said and kissed him to seal the promise. “Peter is the man I fell in love with. Peter is the man I want to marry.”

  Chapter 18

  Tatiana wanted to share her joyous news with Alexander, but she was still annoyed with him. And with her parents for making that ridiculous marriage arrangement, even though it looked as if it would work out well, after all. No thanks to any of them, however.

  But she had to tell someone or burst.

  Speed-dialing Vanessa, she said, “You’ve got to promise me you won’t say a word of this to anyone.”

  “Promise.”

  With a totally girlish squeal, she spilled the happy news to her friend.

  …

  The hotel lobby was a flurry of activity as Tatiana, her security people, bellhops, and hotel staff handled the arrival of the royals for tomorrow’s big event.

  Peter stood off to one side of the lobby, watching carefully. His cop’s senses were alert to the nuances of everything going on as Tatiana greeted each of the muckity-mucks who glided into the lobby, bodies swathed in designer duds and jewels almost as fabulous as those sitting locked away in the ballroom.

  It was interesting to watch Tatiana at work. See her responses to each of the guests.

  She liked the Grand Duke Petrovich and his wife.

  Was indifferent to Princess Alexi and the young man with her. The princess obviously thought herself above Tatiana—not that the woman could hold a candle to Tatiana in terms of either looks or class.

  Another half dozen or so royals drifted in over the next few hours, and Tatiana patiently dealt with each and every one. But as she had finished with one couple, her head jerked toward the entrance and her entire body stiffened. Peter shifted his gaze to see who had entered. The older man was dressed elegantly, but had the stuffy look of a banker about him rather than a royal.

  Peter guessed he was in his seventies at least, but he moved smoothly, his carriage ramrod straight as he marched toward where Tatiana stood. Her back was equally straight in a challenging mode, but she quickly controlled herself, relaxed her posture, and forced a smile to her face.

  The man offered her a haughty expression and literally looked down his nose at her, tilting his head back to peer down at her.

  Not liking the interaction, Peter hurried over just as Tatiana was saying, “Prince Sergei. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Thank you, Tatiana,” he replied with insulting informality, if not obvious hostility. The look he shot Peter was even less friendly.

  “And you are?” the prince asked with an arrogant arch of his brow.

  Peter held out his hand, which Prince Sergei ignored, prompting Peter to pull his shoulders back and say smoothly, “Welcome to the Jewel of Russia, Mr. Veodar.”

  The man jerked back as if slapped. “How dare you—”

  “Grand Prince Pyotr Romanovich at your service, heir to Grand Duke Roman Alexandrovich.”

  A flood of red suddenly filled the other man’s pale face and he stammered another protest. “You will address me properly, Prince Pyotr.”

  “And you will address Princess Tatiana with courtesy and respect,” Peter warned and stepped toward the other man, looming over him with his greater height.

  Tatiana intervened. “Thank you, Prince Pyotr, but I can handle this. Prince Sergei, please go to the front desk. We have your room ready.” She laid a hand on Peter’s chest to keep him from going after the older man. Not that he’d have used physical force against anyone, especially one of her guests.

  But he had to confess the man’s irritating air of superiority didn’t put him above a little intimidation.

  He watched the man walked away and met Tatiana’s annoyed gaze. “I didn’t like his attitude.”

  “I know, but I could have handled it on my own.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. It wasn’t my place to undermine your authority.” Even if he meant well. “I’ll stay out of it next time.”

  But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do some checking on the self-important Prince Sergei,
because something besides his bad attitude had Peter’s cop’s radar buzzing. His arrogance had an anger to it that if pushed too far, might lead to violence.

  He was walking back to the side of the room when he caught sight of Tony coming toward him, a metal lockbox in his hand.

  “I’m sorry this has taken so long, Detective. I had a slight issue with getting the appropriate permits.” He handed Peter the box.

  “Not a problem, Tony. It’s been so busy this morning I doubt we could have gotten away.”

  He peered at Tatiana, who was speaking to the manager of the hotel. It appeared she was giving him some final instructions.

  “How does the situation look by the back entrance?”

  Tony shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s still a mess. You won’t be able to leave the hotel undetected. In light of that, I’ve arranged for some targets and bullet backstops in sub-basement Room C.”

  “Thank you, Tony. That was very thoughtful.”

  The man dipped his head and walked away. Tatiana approached and pointed at the box. “What’s that?”

  “A present for you, although I’d like to share it with you in private,” he said.

  She grinned sexily. “Seems a little big for a ring.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Solnyshko moyo. Although I’m just a lowly detective—”

  “Oh, please, Prince Pyotr,” she teased him and rolled her eyes.

  “Trust me, you will have a ring you will cherish, but I want it to be a surprise. This, however,” he said, and passed his hand over the top of the box, “is about business. If you’re done here, I’d like you to go with me for an hour or so.”

  She shot a weird look at the box, clearly wondering what it contained. He almost smiled at the thoughts he imagined were running through her mind. Naughty girl. She tilted her head. “Sure. We have a while before we have to get ready for tonight’s dinner.”

  He smiled, filing that little tidbit away for another time.

  “Great. Let’s go,” he said, and with his hand at the small of her back, steered her to the service elevator banks. They reached the sub-basement level and found Room C. The room was at least thirty feet long and on the narrow side. At one end was a metal bullet trap and backstop sitting on top of, and surrounded on the sides, by huge bales of hay. A bullseye target was taped onto the bullet backstop.

  “What’s this all about?” Tatiana asked, surprised. She followed him to a table at the far side of the room where he placed the metal lock box and opened it. Inside was a leather holster, box of ammo, and the Baby Glock.

  “After yesterday, it occurred to me you might need to protect yourself if we got separated during an emergency.” He lifted the pistol from the box.

  With actions that were second nature, he removed the magazine, checked to see if the clip was loaded, and then placed it in the gun again, but he didn’t chamber the first round. He laid the pistol on the table. A pair of ear protectors rested there also.

  “I appreciate your concern,” she said and reached for the gun.

  He snared her hand before she could touch it, earning a look of reproach.

  “I should show you how to safely handle it first.”

  “I’ve been around weapons all my life, Peter. We went hunting and skeet shooting a lot when I was younger,” she said, and brushed aside his hand.

  She picked up the weapon and repeated his actions, removing the magazine, checking the ammo, and then reloading the clip, all with the gun pointed at the floor, as safety demanded. She strode to the middle of the room and, with her finger away from the trigger, used her free hand to move the slide and chamber the first bullet.

  “I’ve heard you shouldn’t dry fire a Glock,” she said in explanation.

  “That’s what I’ve heard also,” Peter said. He slipped on his ear protectors, walked over, and eased the other pair on her. With a nod, she raised her hand and aimed at the target, shifted her finger down to the trigger, and pulled smoothly.

  The report of the gun was loud even with the protectors. Tatiana fired a few rounds, expertly hitting the target in and around dead center with each shot.

  She lowered the weapon and removed her finger from the trigger. With a broad grin, she faced him and said, “How’d I do?”

  He walked over and took the gun from her. “You learned that hunting and skeet shooting? I don’t think so.”

  With a shrug, she said, “After the kidnapping, Alexander thought I should take some self-defense classes and firearms training.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. Dragging her close, he said, “You can’t imagine how sexy it is to see a strong woman who can handle herself.”

  Considering that the length of his erection must be obvious against her belly, she could probably imagine.

  “Is there anything that doesn’t make you horny?” she teased.

  “You mean anything about you? The answer is a big ‘No.’”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing we have a few hours until tonight’s gala dinner.”

  Chapter 19

  Peter lay with Tatiana sprawled across him, loving the silken feel of her spent body against him after their afternoon of lovemaking. Wishing they didn’t have to parade before dozens of royals and designers tonight, and could instead just stay in bed making love again. And again.

  This was pure heaven.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, and lazily stroked her hand across his chest.

  “That I wish we could skip tonight, only—” He hesitated, because there was one important reason why he did want to go to the dinner tonight. Or rather, had to go.

  “How much do you know about Prince Sergei?” He couldn’t shake the uneasy vibes the man had given him, nor the bad taste left behind after their encounter yesterday.

  “Other than that I don’t like him very much? No matter how nice I’ve tried to be, he’s always nasty and eyeballing everything as if he thinks he should own it,” Tatiana said, and raised her head to look at his face.

  “But his family did own it,” Peter replied.

  “I guess you can say that, although no one in that family will officially recognize him.”

  “That must eat at his craw. So many beautiful things—” Peter stopped short as a thought flashed through his brain.

  “Did he contribute any jewels to the event?”

  Tatiana shook her head. “No. The only thing he did was buy a ticket.”

  “Doesn’t it strike you as strange that he paid to hang out with people who want nothing to do with him? Much less see a fortune in jewels paraded before his face? Maybe even jewels he thinks should belong to him?”

  A deep furrow of worry marred Tatiana’s smooth forehead. “You think the prince might have some other reason for being here?”

  “I’m saying, here’s a man who thinks he’s owed something. Who has been dissed by the other royals over and over. Why come here unless it was to get back what he thinks he’s owed? Or for that matter, to get even for all that he’s suffered over the years?”

  Tatiana considered his comments and met his gaze. “You think Sergei may be connected to the stolen jewelry?”

  “Let’s find out,” he said, and slipped from under the covers, grabbed the tablet computer sitting on the coffee table, and returned to sit on the bed.

  They propped pillows behind their backs and sat side by side, touching from thigh to shoulder as Peter opened his file on the thefts. One by one he reviewed the chain of ownership for the jewelry that had been stolen over the last several months. Time and time again the Veodoravich name appeared in reference to the stolen pieces, from recent sales by Sergei’s relatives, to a series of photos found in the rare book room of a government library of undocumented jewelry. Jewelry which was rumored to have belonged to Sergei’s family, but which had passed into the hands of another of the royals under dubious circumstances.

  “Don’t you think it’s a big coincidence that so many of the stolen pieces
have a connection to Prince Sergei?” Tatiana asked rhetorically.

  “A lot of the stolen jewelry, but not all. Other pieces were taken that had no connection to Sergei. Let me pull up a list of the jewelry that will be used in your event, so we can check out if any have links to him.”

  Together they investigated each and every one of the pieces, but could find no connection to Prince Sergei and his family.

  “Damn. I was really hoping something in this collection might tie him in so we could reach out to Interpol and see what they have to say. Without that, the fact that so many of the other stolen pieces had a link to him could just be a coincidence,” Peter said, disappointed.

  “It could be coincidence, but do you really believe that?” Tatiana pressed.

  “No,” he admitted. “After meeting the man, I’d say he must have an ulterior motive for coming to the event. He’s planning something. Whether or not it has anything to do with the jewelry in the show—” he lifted a shoulder “—who knows.”

  “We’ll have to keep an eye out for him both before and after the fashion show,” Tatiana added as Peter put his tablet on the nightstand beside the bed.

  “And during the show. That’s when the jewels will be the most vulnerable to theft, or even to exchange. If someone put paste back into the display cases, it might be some time before anyone noticed.”

  “You’re right,” she said, and snuggled into his side once again, the gesture so trusting and loving, his heart clenched with emotion.

  He tightened his hold on her, tucking her near. They lay there in peaceful silence. But inside, his worry was growing like a snowball rolling down a mountain. His gut told him there was something going on with Prince Sergei’s presence at the event.

  Something possibly more dangerous than the theft of jewels. The Thief of Hearts and his team never used violence. But Sergei likely wanted more substantial revenge on those who had slighted him. Just taking their baubles might not be enough for him.