by Annie West
As if that weren’t enough, someone else had been investigating Ariane’s adoption lately, requesting records and asking questions. A lawyer in St Ancilla. A lawyer related to the countess who’d supplied a reference for her friend, the masquerading Princess.
It was easy to see what was happening. A group of aristocratic friends colluding to help each other.
Why?
The answer made Jake’s blood steam.
So the pampered Princess could get her hands on Ariane.
Jake shook his head, breathing deep and filling his lungs as far as they’d go. Even so it felt as if barbed wire wrapped around his chest, constricting his air, drawing tighter as his ire rose.
He didn’t give a damn if some party-girl princess had a change of heart about the baby she’d abandoned. Ariane was better off without her. For what was to stop her changing her mind again?
What Ariane needed was love and stability. Family. That was where he came in. He was family.
Carolina of St Ancilla signed away her rights years ago. It was too late to change her mind. Ariane was his niece, his only link with his beloved sister.
He had no intention of giving her up to some spoiled, deceitful woman who used her body to get her own way.
A shudder stormed his frame as he thought of her giving herself to man after man, a commodity to get what she wanted. She was an expert cheat, given the way she’d fooled him. An expert at using sex and deception.
But she’d messed up this time.
He’d never release Ariane to such a woman.
He might have been born working class and only just avoided being made a ward of the state when his older sister stepped in to raise him. But he was a man to be reckoned with. Apart from his considerable wealth, he had powerful contacts.
More, forewarned was forearmed. He wouldn’t wait till the Princess tried to snatch Ariane, or filed a lawsuit to claim her.
Right now arrangements were being made to increase security on the castle and on Ariane in particular. No one would steal her away.
As for a lawsuit... His mouth curled disdainfully. He already had a team of the best legal experts onto it. Birth mother or not, Carolina wouldn’t get custody. If he had his way she wouldn’t get access to Ariane for years. By which time her whim to be a mother would no doubt have passed.
Jake’s smile became a grin. He wanted to see her face when she discovered she’d been outmanoeuvred.
* * *
Caro’s smile felt like a rictus and her fingers ached from shaking hands with the throng of people her father had invited to the ball. Yet a glance at the mirror on the other side of the palace foyer reassured her. Her smile appeared real and she looked as regal as jewels, haute couture and years of mind-numbing training in etiquette and deportment could make her.
Her father would have nothing to complain about tonight, at least as far as she was concerned. No doubt he’d find something else to take umbrage at. He was never happy unless unhappy with something.
What had possessed him to invite such a huge crowd? Not only royals and people from both St Ancilla and Tarentia, but a slew of others. There was an unusually high number of foreign bankers and financiers.
Surely the whisper she’d heard couldn’t be true—that the royal finances were rocky.
Caro pushed the idea aside. Probably her father planned some new scheme and had decided to finance it with someone else’s money.
She smiled at another guest, answering him in his native German, hiding a wince at his too hearty handshake.
Through the formal welcomes her mind kept straying to Ariane. Was she sleeping or was she beset by the nightmares?
Did she miss Caro?
Caro told herself it was too soon for that, though she missed her daughter with a permanent ache beneath her ribs. After years believing her child dead, the impatience to be with her grew stronger not less. She’d only just resisted calling again tonight to check on her. Lotte had been reassuring this morning when she phoned. That had to be enough.
Soon she’d be free to go back to the castle. To Ariane.
And Jake.
Sinuous heat swirled through Caro’s middle at the thought of Jake.
Feminine desire battled with trepidation whenever she thought of him. The man she’d almost given herself to. The man she wanted. She, who’d believed no man could ever again tempt her into intimacy, much less trust.
The man who’d been considerate and caring in a way unmatched by any other man in her life.
The man who stood between her and her daughter.
Except surely the person she’d seen behind the forbidding exterior and rapier-sharp mind needn’t be an enemy? He wanted the best for Ariane. Surely, once he knew the truth he’d understand. Cooperate.
Caro clung to that thought through the last of the welcomes. In a couple of days she could return to Switzerland, see Ariane and explain to Jake.
He’d be surprised at first but he was no ogre. They’d find a way to negotiate this situation and—
‘Princess Carolina.’ The deep voice, like trailing velvet dipped in arsenic, wrapped around her.
Her thoughts shattered. Slowly, using every effort to turn a neck suddenly stiff with tension, she looked to the next guest.
She felt herself sway, wondered distantly whether she might black out. But she didn’t have the luxury of escape.
Jake Maynard stood there, superb in formal clothes tailored lovingly to his tall, broad-shouldered form. He’d looked daunting in business clothes, vital and handsome in a knitted pullover and jeans, raffishly sexy in gym gear. It shouldn’t surprise her that in a bow tie and dinner jacket he was devastating.
Yet he stole her words as well as her breath. Caro stared up at the man watching her with the hooded silvery gaze of a predator. So handsome, with such a palpable aura of danger and power she instantly thought of a fallen angel. Or maybe that was because of the hot mercury stare pinning her to the spot.
‘Or do you prefer to be called Caro?’
Nearby someone snatched a shocked breath at his effrontery but Caro was too busy standing tall when that poison-drenched voice wound tight around her, stopping the air in her lungs.
Without waiting for an answer he captured her hand. Instead of shaking it, he lifted it slowly, ostentatiously. He didn’t bend his head, instead raising her arm high so she could see her pale hand in his as he pressed his lips to her fingers.
Involuntarily her fingers curled around his as energy jagged from her hand up her arm and down to her breasts and lower, to that empty space deep inside. The blood racketed around her body so fast she felt light-headed.
Caro heard a hissed breath, hers, then felt the convulsive shiver of her body’s response. To him. To the anger sizzling in that half-lidded stare. And, heaven help her, to his bold challenge.
‘Mr... Maynard.’ Her hesitation made it sound as if she was trying to remember his name, which was better than revealing how undone she was as he stood there, arrogantly stopping the queue of guests and holding her hand so close she felt the warmth of his breath on her fingers. The flesh across the back of her shoulders drew tight and her skin prickled. ‘How good of you to attend.’
‘You were expecting me?’ His eyebrows rose as if in polite enquiry but Caro was busy reading the rest of his face. The grooves carved down his cheeks by the tight set of his jaw, the pronounced tic of a pulse at his temple and the flare of his nostrils as if assailed by some unpleasant smell.
Caro wavered on the verge of panic. She couldn’t do this. Not here, not now. She needed quiet, a place to explain away from curious ears. She needed his understanding and compassion, not his enmity.
But finally Caro steadied herself. She had no option.
‘I hadn’t realised you were on the guest list but I hope you enjoy the ball.’
‘I’m sure it wil
l be most entertaining.’ Still he didn’t release her hand. She was conscious of the increasing number of stares trained on them.
‘Please go on through.’ She nodded towards the double doors flung wide to the gilded ballroom. Footmen stood on either side of the entry with trays of champagne. Beyond them guests milled, quaffing drinks, showing off their finery, chattering in anticipation.
Slowly he lowered her hand. But instead of releasing it, Jake curled his fingers around hers. His hold tightened into an implacable grip that matched the forbidding angle of his jaw. ‘Perhaps you’d like to show me around, Your Highness?’
The suggestion defied royal protocol and good manners. She was here with her family to greet their guests.
‘I’m sorry.’ She made to pull her hand free but found it trapped. ‘But I—’
‘An excellent idea,’ the familiar voice boomed from nearby.
Caro’s face jerked around to find her father, resplendent in a scarlet uniform almost a perfect match for his colouring, beaming at them. Beaming! Her father!
Caro had a powerful moment of disbelief. So strong she wondered for a second if she’d strayed into a dream. Even her stepmother beside him wore a slight smile.
‘You two young people go ahead. Enjoy yourselves. We’re almost finished here.’
Inadvertently Caro caught the eye of a long-term diplomat in the queue, waiting to be greeted. In his eyes she saw a reflection of her own astonishment. Her father was a stickler for the rules, especially those promoting formality at court.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’ Jake inclined his head then, before Caro had time to catch her breath, he led her smoothly towards the ballroom.
As they stepped into the glittering room with its ornate ceiling paintings, crystal chandeliers and scores of massive mirrors, his breath whispered across her cheek.
‘I’m sure tonight will be memorable.’
He spoke softly but the look in his eyes, and the feel of those long fingers manacling her wrist, sent a chill of deep foreboding straight to her marrow.
CHAPTER NINE
JAKE WAS KNOWN for his self-control. For an early responder in disaster zones it had been a quality almost as important as his skills at organisation and saving lives.
Yet tonight sorely tested him.
She tested him. Waltzing by on the arm of the man who’d held her possessively in that photo.
The simmering heat in Jake’s gut rose in a seething flood of impatience. His plans to confront her in a quiet anteroom had been foiled by the press of people, all wanting to speak to her or him. Then there was the sheer formality of the proceedings. Her first dance had already been allocated and, short of hauling her away in front of a fascinated audience, he’d had no choice but to relinquish her.
He gritted his teeth, berating himself for the spurt of fury that had propelled him to the palace. He should have waited and chosen his venue better but his blood was up and for the first time in years he’d acted rashly. Goaded by the smiling redhead in the dark violet dress.
Simply watching her did excruciating things to his self-control. Jake told himself it was wrath but there was an edge to his anger that felt like more.
Like want.
Worse, like disappointment, because he’d felt something for her.
Except the person he’d begun to know was a mirage, constructed by the duplicitous woman now swanning around the dance floor. Her long skirt belled around her legs, calling attention to that tiny waist and acres of creamy skin bared by a dress that hung off both shoulders.
Jake’s blood pounded in counterpoint to the beat of the waltz. Colours blurred and faces flashed by but still he had no difficulty keeping her in focus. Caro Rivage aka Princess Carolina. She moved with a grace that despite his anger evoked raw hunger in the pit of his belly. Or maybe it was the smile she gave her partner, bending to murmur in her ear.
They swept past and for a second violet eyes caught Jake’s. Wide, impossibly beautiful and, if he didn’t know better, scared.
No, this woman wasn’t scared. Disconcerted perhaps but she’d brazened it out, introducing him to guests as if they really were simply acquaintances. Keeping up a flow of small talk that made him want to muffle her mouth with his till she was so breathless, speech was beyond her.
With difficulty Jake slowed his breathing, searching for calm. They needed to talk. He needed confirmation of what he’d learned. Needed her to admit it. Then he’d inform her she had no hope of getting Ariane.
Sanity resurfaced. He told himself to wait till tomorrow when he could see her alone.
Except that would give her time to regroup. He’d find her surrounded by lawyers and royal officials who’d try to deflect him. This was between the pair of them. He wasn’t in the mood to wait.
The music ended and her skirts spilled onto the gleaming floor as she curtseyed to her bowing partner. He was Prince of Tarentia, Jake had learned. Brother to the woman whose betrothal they were celebrating. How cosy. No doubt the two royal families were close. Maybe there was a second wedding in the pipeline?
Jake grimaced as acid stirred in his gut. Caro inhabited a privileged world where old family connections mattered and worth was measured by inherited wealth and titles.
But her privileged past didn’t give her the right to sail into Ariane’s life and disrupt it. To make the little girl believe her birth mother cared, only to be crushed when she discovered the woman who’d borne her had no staying power.
Jake knew how that felt.
He wouldn’t let it happen to Ariane.
Stalking forward, he cut through the milling crowd to Caro and her partner.
‘My dance, I believe.’
He didn’t wait for a response, ignored a protest from the Prince and slipped his arm around Caro’s waist. As he claimed her he felt her jolt of response. Satisfaction stirred. A second later the music started and Jake propelled her into the centre of the dance floor.
He hadn’t planned to dance, had decided merely to separate her from her partner, but this was the simplest way to do it.
It had nothing to do with the greedy way his fingers splayed over her narrow back. The surge of rampant triumph as he pulled her close. The way her eyes dilated and that glossy cupid’s bow mouth opened as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Or the sheer rightness of her slender form in his embrace.
She matched his steps as if they’d danced together before. As their bodies had aligned perfectly when they’d kissed and when he’d held her, sobbing in his arms.
Jake tasted disgust on his tongue. Those tears had been faked. She was fake.
He glanced at the fine golden wires studded with purple gems threading her auburn hair, the matching long earrings that swung with her every move. Heard the swish of her rich ball gown billowing around his legs. But the trappings of royalty meant nothing to him. Glamour couldn’t make up for a good heart. The fact his body still responded to her only made him more determined to wrest himself and his niece free of her pernicious influence.
‘So tell me, Princess Carolina. Since you’re the eldest in the family, why aren’t you married yet? No desire for a family and children of your own?’
* * *
Caro faltered and would have tripped but for Jake’s iron-hard embrace. He didn’t slow at her misstep, swinging her, if anything, faster into the next turn, so she had to clutch him to keep her balance. Hard muscle and warm fabric teased her palms.
The mention of children hit her like a blow to the solar plexus, the impact shooting through her body and turning her legs nerveless.
For a heartbeat, for two, she could do nothing but hang on and try to keep up.
She shouldn’t be surprised he was such a superb dancer, he had the strength and agility of an athlete. Yet it was his words, not his moves that worried her.
How much did he know? Her double identity, cer
tainly. Anger radiated from him in waves. But not, surely, the rest, about being Ariane’s mother.
‘No plans to settle down with your Prince Charming?’ He didn’t bother keeping his voice down and the glittering challenge in those icy eyes told her he relished the idea of her objecting and trying to quiet him. No doubt he’d say something more outrageous.
Was that why he was here? To embarrass her?
For several seconds her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A lifetime’s reserve, of doing as she was ordered and being the one to back down, urged her to murmur something placatory. She hated scenes.
The twisting distress in her belly urged her to flee.
Caro did neither. She looked him straight in the eye.
‘No plans to marry, Jake.’ She pronounced his name casually as if they were old friends. As if the taste of it on her tongue didn’t evoke a clandestine thrill of self-destructive pleasure. ‘And you? Are you looking for a wife? I could introduce you to some lovely women here.’
She let her gaze drift over the crowd as if searching for said women. As if she weren’t avoiding his blistering contempt.
For years she’d caved at the first sign of her father’s displeasure. Even now she was nervous about the prospect of facing the King when she finally got time alone with him. But for some reason, standing up to Jake, despite the knowledge he stood between her and Ariane, made her blood sing in her veins.
‘I’ve no intention of marrying.’ The words bit like glacial shards, grazing her skin. ‘I have too much experience of lying, manipulative women to trust one that much.’
It was a direct body blow. Caro felt it smash through skin and bone, felt herself absorb it like soft flesh cushioning a knife thrust.
It didn’t help that he was right. She had to lied to him. But how could she have done otherwise? She’d had her reasons, as he’d discover when she had a chance to explain.
‘You need to be careful. You sound like a misogynist. You don’t want to turn into a lonely old grouch.’
