When Passion Rules Page 10

  He didn’t answer her, bringing home more clearly than ever that only he could ask the questions in this cell. He did move behind her though. That should have given her some relief, to have his eyes off her scanty attire, but it just made her more nervous. Then she felt his fingers unraveling her disheveled coiffure.

  “What are you—?” She raised a hand to brush his away from her head. “Stop it! There is no weapon small enough to hide in my hair!”

  He held a long, sharp hairpin between two fingers in front of her face. “No?”

  She didn’t blush, just insisted, “I don’t consider that a weapon.”

  But she didn’t try to stop him from removing the rest of the pins. She was actually glad to have her long hair tumble down over her chest, because her chemise was so thin it was nearly transparent. But he didn’t remove his hands when he was done. His fingers moved against her scalp in a way that was far too sensual. A shiver moved down her neck that had nothing to do with how cold it was in that cell.

  It made her burst out, “My guardian’s name is . . . Mathew Farmer. I call him Poppie because he raised me. I thought he was my uncle, that my parents had died in the wars and he was the only family I had left. I thought we were no different than other foreign aristocrats who fled to England to escape Napoléon’s rampage, that Poppie had even fought in those wars. I knew we were from Lubinia, but I never once suspected that everything else I believed all my life was a lie. And when I turned eighteen, he still wasn’t going to tell me the truth or bring me back yet.”

  She had hoped that would get his mind back on track and his hands off her, but his fingers kept stroking her as he asked, “Then why did he?”

  “Because he heard about what was happening here. That forced his hand to tell me everything, even though he was sure I’d hate him for it.”

  “To end a war before it begins.”

  He might as well have just snorted, his tone was so dubious. She tried to turn around to look at him, but his hands on her shoulder and her neck kept her looking straight ahead.

  She still demanded, “Why do you doubt such a selfless motive as that? He didn’t want to see his homeland ripped apart by lies that he could disprove. He loves this country for some reason I haven’t figured out yet.” His tightened grip on her shoulders indicated he’d perceived an insult in what she’d just said. She added defensively, “It’s not my fault I don’t share that love. When I was a child, he reviled Lubinia, made it sound completely barbaric.”

  “Why?”

  “So I’d be too ashamed to tell anyone where we really came from.”

  “Why?”

  “In case someone showed up asking questions—like my father’s men or his enemies.”

  “So he hid you from the king?”

  “Of course. Someone wanted me dead. So Poppie wasn’t going to allow me to return here until he knew it was safe.”

  Becker laughed. “And he thinks it’s safe now?”

  “No, he doesn’t. But my presence can save many lives, and that outweighs everything else. And the threat to me personally that he’s protected me from all my life, he’s going to deal with himself, since my father never did.”

  Becker was silent for a moment, then said, “So last month your guardian shatters everything you believed about your life, telling you instead that you’re royalty? And you simply believed him? Why?”

  “Are you joking?” she said painfully. “I didn’t believe any of it. It was too horrible, too—”

  “Horrible that you’re a princess?” he scoffed.

  She closed her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to tell him this much. His doubt was wearing her down. He still hadn’t taken his hands off her, either. And he shouldn’t be treating her like this at all!

  “No ready answer this time, Alana?—if that’s even your name.”

  The harsh tone he’d been frightening her with turned neutral for that question. His hands left her shoulders, too, though a finger trailed softly down her arm almost in a distracted manner. She shivered. It had to be the cold. It couldn’t be his touch.

  “Think whatever you like,” she said tiredly. “You’re going to anyway.”

  “This is how you are going to save lives?”

  Her eyes snapped open again. He was right. She didn’t have the luxury of giving up.

  She sighed. “Let me put it this way, Captain. The disbelief you’re exhausting me with? Well, my disbelief when Poppie told me I was a royal princess was a hundred times that, and I’m very good with math, so that isn’t an exaggeration. Poppie might have called me princess all my life, but I just thought it was an endearment. Of course I didn’t believe that I’m the king of Lubinia’s daughter. But there’s something you should know. Poppie loves me. He changed his life for me. He would never have confessed what brought that about if it weren’t true.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was sure I would despise him for it.”

  “For stealing you from this very palace eighteen years ago? This is what he told you, correct? Or was he actually not involved in that theft? Did this man who raised you merely know the real thief and took you from him or her?”

  She was tempted to lie, to remove Poppie from the original crime—and the captain’s avid interest. But Poppie had told her to tell the truth, and she had to have faith that it would lead to her being reunited with her father.

  “No, it was Poppie who took me directly from the palace nursery, though he wasn’t supposed to. He’d been paid to kill me.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I swear I don’t know! We stayed at an inn on the edge of town, but he warned me I wouldn’t find him there again. I told you. He’s going to track down the person who hired him eighteen years ago to kill me.”

  “When are you going to figure out that I don’t like being lied to?”

  He was abruptly in front of her again. To see how much he’d been frightening her with those rapid questions? Or so she couldn’t mistake how angry he still was?

  “I have been telling you the absolute truth and will continue to do so. I really don’t have a choice in that.”

  “There are always choices, and you need to make a better one if you hope to get out of here.”

  She sucked in her breath. He couldn’t keep her locked up. He wouldn’t dare. She was his king’s daughter! But she began to tremble, half from the cold, half from fear. Yet she couldn’t let him know how much he was intimidating her. Fear would make her look guilty. He’d never believe her then.

  She tried to think like a princess. She tried to embrace the outrage that was the only thing she should be feeling. But all she could manage to say was “I’m cold.”

  “Your comfort is not—”

  “I’m cold!”

  Throwing caution to the winds, she raised her chin defiantly. He swore, then marched outside the cell and slammed the barred door shut behind him. The last thing she expected was for him to turn the key in the lock, too.

  Chapter Sixteen

  HOW DARE YOU KEEP me in here? I will not forget this, Captain.”

  Christoph’s anger wasn’t gone yet. Those words kept it high. Where had she gotten the courage to speak so imperiously? No raised voice. Simple calm laced with ice. But her eyes gave her away, not by expression but by shade. The stormy-gray color lightened to a pale gray-blue when she was frightened.

  “You have concocted a tale to bamboozle,” he growled at her through the bars of her cell. “But I will have the truth before we are done.”

  “You wouldn’t recognize the truth if it kicked you in the arse.”

  She uttered that insult in English. He didn’t let her know he understood it when hearing thoughts she didn’t want him to know of might become a useful tool for him. But he couldn’t stay there any longer. Fighting desire and anger, he’d end up doing something he would regret.

  He told her in parting, “I will get rid of this anger befor
e I decide what to do with you. But I warn you, this”—he waved a hand at her cell—“is nothing compared to what you will face if you do not start telling the truth.”

  He heard her gasp before she turned her back on him. As soon as he’d left the cell, she’d leapt for her gown and had been holding it up in front of her like a royal shield. But he’d just frightened her enough that she didn’t realize she was giving him a fine view of her shapely legs. He left abruptly before he opened that door again.

  Her fear mollified him only a little, but enough to make him realize her indignation was partially responsible for his anger. Her situation was too serious. She had to realize she wouldn’t be escaping this plot unscathed unless she actually was innocent. If she’d been lied to so convincingly that she really believed what she was saying, then he could be more lenient. The question was, how to determine that?

  He was still angry at himself as well for allowing her to distract him from taking the simple precaution of searching her the moment she made her claim. Men were searched at the gate, women weren’t. That would change after today.

  Desire was a dangerous thing. If he hadn’t had a taste of her, it wouldn’t be as powerful as it was now. But he’d made an honest mistake when she’d leaned so close to him to request a private rendezvous in such a sexy tone.

  Just last month he’d had to deal with a middle-aged widow who had also kept her business at court a secret until she stood before him and confessed she hoped to wile her way into the king’s bed. She’d even offered herself to him as payment to arrange a meeting between her and Frederick. Christoph hadn’t been tempted. He’d shown her to the gate instead. She wasn’t the first who had come there without researching her subject better. It was well-known in Lubinia that Frederick had been lucky to find love twice, with both his queens, and that there hadn’t been a royal mistress since he’d married his second wife.

  With that foolishness last month so fresh in his mind, it was no wonder he’d given in easily to Alana’s temptation—or grasped at that excuse simply because she was young and beautiful and so desirable. Damnation, he’d wanted to be right. He’d wanted her to be exactly what he’d thought she was when he brought her to his quarters.

  After giving Boris orders and putting on an overcoat since it had begun to snow again, Christoph went to question the guard Alana had accused of stealing her bracelet. He couldn’t leave that stone unturned before he spoke with the king. He was actually a little disappointed to hear the man deny it, which prompted him to instruct another guard to search the man’s belongings. He didn’t expect the bracelet to prove anything other than that the girl wasn’t lying about everything.

  Then he went immediately to seek a private word with the king. His stride was quick. He hoped to reach the royal chambers before the monarchs sat down to dinner. Only emergencies could interrupt that, and his business wasn’t an emergency—yet.

  The royals were entertaining, though, and were in the sitting room with their guests prior to dinner. The king and the queen both greeted him warmly, but Frederick didn’t rise immediately to see what had brought him. So Christoph greeted the two guests, with whom he was acquainted.

  He wasn’t surprised to see Auberta Bruslan there. Norbert Strulland, the doddering, feeble-looking retainer who served as her escort, sat next to her on a gold-threaded, beige sofa. One was rarely seen without the other. White-haired like Auberta, Norbert should have been retired years ago, but Auberta was too kindhearted to dismiss him.

  The former queen was often invited to the palace for royal gatherings or private dinners. Both Frederick and Nikola honestly liked the old lady, who was good-natured and had a lively sense of humor. They were also interested in fostering good relations through her with as much of the former king’s family as possible. Not all Bruslans were opposed to a Stindal on the throne.

  “Christoph, how is your grandfather Hendrik, eh?” Auberta asked him warmly. “I haven’t seen my old friend since the sleigh races—it must be ten years ago!”

  Christoph smiled. He knew the rumors that Hendrik had been courting Auberta prior to King Ernest’s noticing her, and winning her affections, and making her his queen.

  “He doesn’t come to the city as often as he used to,” Christoph replied.

  “A shame. I miss his humor. He could always make me laugh. And how is your lovely neighbor Nadia Braune? Have you captured her heart yet? Will we be hearing wedding bells in the near future perhaps?”

  Christoph felt like grimacing, but concealed his feelings well. Auberta was no doubt just interested in gossip, but it was too soon after that unpleasant visit from Nadia today for him to answer with anything other than bluntness.

  “Nadia and I were merely childhood friends, nothing more.”

  Auberta seemed surprised, but her escort actually frowned. Christoph had to allow that Norbert was so old that his mind often wandered, and he might not even be following the conversation. The old lady quickly changed the subject to one of her favorites, directing her comments back to Frederick.

  “My grandson Karsten has made me very proud again,” Auberta said. “He’s building up one of the family businesses, creating jobs for the commoners. He’s so loyal and devoted to Lubinia, not like his dissolute parents, who do nothing but travel around Europe enjoying a carefree life. But at least they left Karsten in my care.”

  Auberta rarely had anything good to say about her daughter, Karsten’s mother, who had married a Frenchman against Auberta’s wishes. But she never tired of talking about her beloved grandson. She rather obviously hoped Frederick, still without an heir, would consider naming Karsten as his successor.

  “What brings you, Christoph?” Queen Nikola finally asked a bit nervously. Christoph knew she was always on edge about the rebels so he assured her, “There’s no cause for alarm. I merely need to consult His Highness about a private matter that will not wait until morning.”

  Frederick didn’t keep him waiting any longer. He excused himself and took Christoph deeper into the royal suite to his own private office, where they could be assured of privacy. Nearing his fiftieth year, the king was still robust and in good health. Blond and blue-eyed, the same as his first queen had been—one would think the plotters would have found an imposter who at least bore the monarchs’ coloring for some semblance of resembling them. The other imposters did. Of course, half of Lubinia did as well.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Christoph got right to the point. “Another imposter has arrived, Highness. Do you wish to see her?”

  Frederick didn’t even hesitate in replying, “What for? To marvel at their audacity? I trust you to deal with this matter. Find out who put her up to it, then send her on her way.”

  “She mentioned you might use her to avert a war. This implies she’s from the Bruslan camp, sent to encourage you to make a fatal mistake. But that would suggest they have more clever advisers now.”

  “Possibly, but keep in mind, Christoph, that huge family is the devil’s very own to deal with. There are so damn many of them, some of whom are distant blood relations of mine. Many of them are good and decent people, even friends like Auberta is. But I concede some of the young bucks believe the Bruslans should still hold the throne. They resent that Ernest’s direct male descendant Karsten wasn’t chosen to succeed him.”

  “Karsten was just a child at the time of his grandfather’s death,” Christoph said. “The people didn’t rise up against King Ernest just to put another Bruslan in his place.”

  “But enough time has passed since that civil war for the younger generation of Bruslans to forget that. No doubt some of them are funding the rebels. Keep an eye on Karsten in particular. I know Auberta thinks the world of him, but he’s a clever fellow and I fear he’s duped his grandmother with his sudden shouldering of responsibility.”

  Christoph nodded. “That would be quite a change in him, when his only interests since he reached manhood have been women and drink.”

  “Exactly. And actua
lly, she did mention he plans to attend the first races tomorrow. That would be a good opportunity for you to ascertain if he’s really making a change for the better—or not. But I also want you to continue to monitor the activities of some of the other noble families, the Naumanns, the Weinsteins, even the Braunes—yes, I know they are your neighbors, but don’t let that influence your judgment.”

  “Of course not, Highness. They lost more than most with the change in regime.”

  Frederick nodded. “As for this imposter, I suppose she could be a complete innocent they’ve managed to dupe with tales of heroically saving lives.”

  “I am keeping that possibility in mind, but there are other unusual circumstances. She entered the palace armed, hoping to gain an immediate audience with you because of her particular story.”

  “Yet another female assassin?”

  Christoph was aware that one of the king’s foreign mistresses that he’d kept prior to his remarriage had tried to slit his throat. While it wasn’t dismissed that it could have been part of a plot, most believed it to have been simple jealous rage.

  Christoph shook his head. “I highly doubt she’s capable of murder. She’s too young and rather naive. And it wasn’t just one weapon but many that she had hidden on her. That’s too overdone, so more likely they were just props to support her claim that someone here wants her dead and they were to protect her.”

  “Be absolutely sure, Christoph. I don’t like imprisoning women, much less executing them. Perhaps you can use this to frighten the truth out of her.”

  “Certainly, Highness, but there is still more. She’s English and was secreted into the country in disguise.”

  “She admitted that?”

  “No, but I am aware of it, since I ran across her last week when I was chasing down the rumor of a rebel camp. Two men, two boys, and a fine coach. Unfortunately, it was snowing so hard I wouldn’t recognize any of them if I saw them again.”

  “Yet you now think she was one of those boys? Why?”