The Playboy Prince Read online

  cards.”

  “Remember that I hold them. I ask you again, sit.”

  This time she obeyed. She let the impatience shimmer, but only enough to let him see her control. “Very well.”

  “Tell me how the Bissets cope this morning.”

  “With dignity, of course.” She pretended to be amused. “Bennett’s pleased with himself. Armand is worried. Eve is confined to bed for the day. Gabriella stays with her. MacGee is closeted with Malori—you know the name?”

  “Yes.”

  “I would guess that they are trying to see what purpose the disturbance last night had. Your man did an excellent job on the main power, though I think the explosive was a bit overstated.” She shrugged as though it had been a hat with one too many feathers. “In any case, they ran on auxiliary for the rest of the evening and have a crew in the Center this morning for repairs. It’s their belief that the power was blown so that the assassin could break his way into the Royal Box.”

  “A natural assumption,” Deboque said as he went back to his coffee. And exactly the one he’d hoped for. “Though such a move would have been messy and unstylish. And you, my dear? How do you cope after witnessing a killing?”

  “I’ve chosen to be shocked and weakened by the events. But brave, naturally. We British are, you know.”

  “I’ve always admired the quality.” He smiled at her again. “I have to congratulate you on the depth of your skill. You look as though you didn’t close your eyes all night.”

  It was a mistake to remember, to think even for an instant, of Bennett. “I drank enough coffee to keep me awake until dawn,” she said easily as her stomach tied itself in knots. “At the moment I’m supposedly out for a walk to clear my head.” To take his attention from that, she added the last of what she and Reeve had discussed. “Are you aware that the entire Royal Family will gather at the palace for the Christmas Ball?”

  “So is tradition.”

  “With Eve being a bit delicate, the Princess Gabriella brings her family to stay for several days during the preparations. The MacGees share a wing with Alexander and Eve so that they can be close to the children.”

  “Interesting.”

  “And obliging. I’ll require the makings for three plastic explosives.”

  Deboque only nodded. “The younger prince doesn’t reside in the same wing.”

  “The younger prince will be fatally injured while trying to save the rest of his family. Leave it to me. Just make sure the five million is waiting.” She rose again, then inclined her head as if waiting for his permission to leave. Deboque stood as well, then surprised her by taking both of her hands.

  “I had thought that some time after the holiday I would take a long vacation. I have an urge to sail, to be in the sun. Vacations can be very dull without companionship.”

  Her stomach turned over. She prayed the revulsion wouldn’t show, even for an instant. “I’ve always been fond of the sun.” She didn’t object when he stepped closer, but smiled. “You have a reputation for discarding women as easily as you collect them.”

  “When they bore me.” He cupped a hand around her neck. His fingers were light, smooth, and still made her think of spiders. “I have a feeling you won’t. I’m not attracted to looks, but brains and ambitions. Together, I believe we could be very comfortable.”

  If his lips touched hers, she would retch. Knowing it, Hannah tilted her head back just an inch. “Perhaps—after our business is completed.”

  The fingers on her neck tightened, then released. The marks they had left wouldn’t fade for several minutes. “You’re a cautious woman, Hannah.”

  “Cautious enough to want the five million before I sleep with you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should get back before I cause any concern.”

  “Of course.”

  She walked to the door. “I’ll need those supplies by the end of the week.”

  “Expect a Christmas present from your aunt in Brighton.”

  With a nod, she swung easily through the door.

  Deboque took his chair again and decided he’d become quite fond of her. It was a shame she’d have to die.

  Chapter 10

  It was midafternoon before Bennett went to find her. He’d read every word in the files Armand had given him. Though some had fascinated him, some had frightened him and some had angered him, he still wasn’t sure he knew the woman.

  Now he, too, was part of the deception, he thought as he made his way up to Eve’s rooms. Nothing he’d read, nothing he’d been told could be confided to his brother. He couldn’t comfort his sister or Eve with the fact that every move Deboque made was being monitored. He had, as he was coming to understand Hannah had, no choice but to play the game through. So he went to find her, knowing it was long past time they talked calmly.

  He found Eve and Gabriella together at a table with piles of lists and a pot of tea.

  “Bennett.” Gabriella reached a hand out. “Just in time. We need a man’s viewpoint on the Christmas Ball.”

  “Make sure there’s plenty of wine.” He bent to kiss both of her cheeks. Though she’d smiled at him, he’d recognized the signs of strain, just as he recognized them in Eve. “Hannah’s not with you?”

  “No.” Eve set her pencil down as she lifted her face for Bennett’s kiss. “I told her I wanted her to rest today. Last night . . .” She tightened her fingers on his. “Last night must have been dreadful for her. And you.”

  He shrugged, remembering too clearly the way he’d left her—curled into a silent ball on the bed. “It wasn’t a dull evening in any case.”

  “Don’t joke, Ben. You could have been killed. All I can think is that it’s the second time in the theater. The second time one of my plays—”

  Keeping Eve’s hand in his, he crouched down. “I wasn’t hurt, and I don’t want you letting that fertile imagination go. I’d be very annoyed if my nephew were born with worry lines. Where’s Marissa?”

  “Napping.”

  He rubbed a thumb under her eyes. “You should do the same.”

  Annoyance replaced the strain, as he’d hoped. “Now you sound like Alex.”

  “God forbid. Where is he, anyway?”

  “Meetings.” She nervously traced her fingers over the papers. “Most of the day. Everything’s been switched to his offices here because of—because security prefers it.”

  “Then you should relax.” He covered her hand with his. “You should know by now the Bissets are indestructible. At the least you should be grateful he’s tied up for a while, otherwise he’d be in here hovering over you.”

  She managed to smile. “You do have a point.”

  Rising, he grinned down at Gabriella. “I suppose we can trust you to keep her in line—though you’re not looking your best, either.”

  “Chivalry is never dead with you around.”

  “What are brothers for?” He wanted to gather them both close and tell them that nothing and no one would ever hurt them again. Instead, he gave his sister’s hair a tug. “Now I’ll let you two get back to what I’m sure is fascinating work.” He’d gotten no farther than the head of the stairs when Gabriella caught up with him. “Ben.”

  He turned, and though he was ready with a smile, her expression stopped it.

  Gabriella looked back over her shoulder to be certain they were far enough away from Eve’s office, then laid a hand over his on the banister. “Reeve tells me little about certain matters.” A trace of temper came into her eyes, then was dismissed. “That’s something I have to live with. But particularly since I once lost everything, I have very good instincts when it comes to my family.”

  “I know you’re worried,” he began. “All of us are.”

  “It’s more than that, though everything comes back to Deboque and his obsession with destroying us. I still have dreams, even after all these years.” She could remember a cabin, and the dark, and the fear.

  “Brie.” He laid a hand on her cheek. “Nothing like that is ever go
ing to happen again.”

  She closed her fingers lightly over his wrist. “And I remember seeing you shot and bleeding on the terrace floor. I remember sitting in the hospital while Eve hung between life and death. Deboque.” Her face was very pale, but there was strength in it and in the hand that lay on his. “It’s all been Deboque. And he isn’t finished.”

  “He will be.” Something dangerous came into his voice, into his eyes. “That I promise you.”

  “I want you to be careful, Bennett.”

  He smiled, so that the look vanished. “How can I be otherwise with a dozen guards smothering me?”

  “Very careful,” she repeated. “I’ve never known you to carry a pistol to the theater.”

  She knew it was a lie. He didn’t have to hear her say it, only to look in her eyes. She knew, but didn’t understand. And because she was Gabriella, she wouldn’t stop until she did.

  “Leave it for now.”

  “So Reeve told me,” she said with an impatient gesture. “It’s my family. How can I?”

  “I only know it’s going to be over soon. In the meantime we have to stand together. Something’s being done, Brie. Hold on to that.”

  “I have been.” She knew it was unfair to push, so released him. “I want you to promise you won’t do anything rash.”

  “What is this reputation I carry with me?”

  “Ben, please.”

  “All right, you have it.” He kissed her again. “I adore you, even if you did bring Dorian into the world to pester me.” He gave her hand a final pat before he started down the stairs. “A bientôt.”

  She watched him go, but the worry stayed with her. “A bientôt.”

  Hannah wasn’t in her rooms. Bennett found himself frustrated yet again when he entered and found them empty. Had she gone out again? he wondered. Was she even now putting herself in danger to protect his family?

  He hated it. The thought of her risking her life, of blocking his body with her own as she had done last night was impossible to accept. Whether it was family, friend or country, he protected. How could he do less for the woman he loved?

  Wandering in her rooms, he moved to her dresser. There was a small enameled box with a peacock on the lid. He ran a finger over it, wondering where she had come by it. A gift? From whom? A purchase in some little shop in London? He needed to know even those inconsequential details about her. Couldn’t she understand that in order to resolve his feelings he had to know the woman he’d given them to?

  He looked up, and reflected in the mirror was the bed where they’d fought, and loved, the night before. If he stood very still, he could almost feel the echoes of passion and discovery in the air. Would she hate him for that? Even though the loving had been as intense and as stunning for her as for him, would she forgive him for forcing her to set the barriers aside?

  He’d been rough. . . . Bennett looked down at his own hands, turning them over, spreading his fingers. And he hadn’t cared. All of his life he’d taken such pains never to hurt a woman. Now, when he’d found the only woman, he’d set out to do just so.

  Walking to the window he stared out and tried to sort out his feelings. He still resented her. No matter what his brain told him, his heart was still bruised by the deception. More, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he’d fallen in love with two women and could trust neither.

  Then he saw her in the gardens below.

  * * *

  She needed some time, Hannah told herself. Just an hour alone to clear her mind and calm her nerves. She knew she’d handled Deboque as smoothly as possible that morning. If nothing went wrong, they would close the trap on him in a week. Then she would have succeeded. In her file would go another favorable report. A two-year assignment successfully tied up could very well mean a promotion. She was, she knew, only inches away from a captaincy. Why didn’t it excite her as it once had?

  Time, Hannah told herself again. She just needed some time.

  She would take a much needed and well-earned vacation. Perhaps at last she would go to America—New York, San Francisco. Wouldn’t it be possible to lose herself in such places for a while?

  Or perhaps she would go back to England. She could spend time in Cornwall walking the moors or riding by the sea. In England she couldn’t lose herself, but perhaps she could find herself again.

  Wherever she went, she would be leaving Cordina. And Bennett.

  Wisteria rose up in an arch, sheltering a bench and inviting long, lazy contemplations. She sat, and closing her eyes, tried to bring her troubled mind to rest.

  Who was she? For the first time in years she was forced to ask herself and admit she didn’t know the answer. A part of her was the quiet woman who enjoyed a long afternoon with a book, who liked to talk of literature and art. A part of her was the woman who kept a weapon within reach and listened to footsteps behind her.

  The fact that she could be both had always been a benefit before, never, as it was now, a painful puzzle to solve. She wished she could talk with her father, even for an hour. He understood what it was to live two lives and find contentment and challenge in each.

  But she couldn’t risk even that. In this, as in the assignment that had brought her here, she was alone.

  He detested her. It was Bennett who had caused the ache and the doubts. It was Bennett who had forced her to question what she’d always taken for granted. Last night he’d taken her mind and heart and body, only because he’d wanted to humiliate her. And he had. No one, no one had ever shown her how much there could be, how much she could give. No one had ever left her so empty and alone.

  He wouldn’t know how much he’d hurt her. He couldn’t know, she thought as the tears she’d held off throughout the night began to fall. Because he would never know how strong her feelings were for him, and how hopeless.

  She had chosen her path, Hannah reminded herself, and she would live with it. In a matter of days it would no longer cross his.

  He would be safe. His family would be safe. And she would be gone.

  He found her sitting on the bench, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes closed and her face wet with tears. So many feelings tumbled into him that he couldn’t separate them. Regret, confusion, love, guilt.

  She’d want to be left alone. He thought he understood her that well. There was still enough bitterness in him to want to leave her alone. He could no more have left her there than he could have left a wounded dog on the side of the road.

  As he went closer, Hannah sprang up from the bench. He saw the shock and humiliation run across her face. For a moment, he thought she would turn and run. But she held her ground.

  “I thought I was alone.” Her voice was cold as she fought anger and embarrassment.

  He took out a handkerchief and offered it. At the moment it was the only comfort he could give, or she accept. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.” His voice was as stiff as hers. “I think we need to talk.”

  “Haven’t we?” She dried her face then crumpled the linen in her hands.

  “Would you like to sit?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He slipped his hands into his pockets. She hadn’t slept, he thought as he saw the shadows under her eyes. Neither had he. So perhaps there they were even. “I spoke with my father this morning. You’ve met with Deboque already today.”

  She started to cut him off, but relented. The garden was as secure as the palace—for the moment. “I don’t report to you on those matters, Your Highness.”

  Temper narrowed his eyes and balled his hands into fists, but he spoke evenly. “No, but I’m now fully aware of the situation. I read your files.”

  Her breath came out on a huff of air. Was nothing she was or had done hers alone any longer? “Very well then, your questions have been answered, your curiosity satisfied. You know everything there is to know about me—I hope you were entertained.”

  “I didn’t read it to be entertained,” he tossed back. “Dammit, Hannah, I have a right to know.�
��

  “You have no rights where I’m concerned. I’m neither servant or subject.”

  “You’re the woman I took to bed last night.”

  “That’s best forgotten. Don’t.” Her body went rigid as he started forward. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”

  “Very well.” He stiffened even as she did. “But we both know certain things can’t be forgotten.”

  “Mistakes can,” she countered. “I’m here as an agent of the ISS to protect you and your family, to stop Deboque’s plans to ruin Cordina and avoid the repercussions in Europe. Whatever has to be done to assure that, I’ll do, but I will not let you humiliate me again.” The tears started again, blinding her. “Oh, damn you, can’t you leave me alone? Wasn’t last night enough retribution for you?”

  That snapped the very tenuous control he had on his own temper. He grabbed her arm, closing his fingers over the firm muscle. “Is that all it meant to you? Retribution? Can you stand here now and tell me you felt nothing, feel nothing? How accomplished a liar are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I felt. You wanted to punish me, and you did.”

  “I wanted to love you, and I did.”

  “Stop.” That hurt, more than she was able to stand. She pushed him away only to be caught closer. The movement sent wisteria blossoms raining. “Do you think I couldn’t see how much you hated me? You looked at me and made me feel vile. For ten years I’ve been proud of what I do, and you took even that away from me.”

  “And what of you?” He kept his voice low, but the anger was just as potent. “Can you tell me you didn’t know I was in love with you?” She started to shake her head in denial, but he tightened his fingers. “You knew I was in love with a woman who didn’t even exist. A quiet, shy and honest woman to whom I only wanted to show tenderness and patience. For the first time in my life there was a woman I could give my heart and my trust to, and she was nothing but a mirage.”

  “I don’t believe you.” But she wanted to and her heart began to race. “You were restless, even bored. I entertained you.”

  “I loved you.” He lifted his hand and held her face very still, very close. She saw his eyes as she had the night before, tawny with passion. “You’ll have to live with that.”

  “Bennett—”

  “And when I came to your room last night, I found another woman, one who had lied and used me.” He dragged the hand up, raking through her hair so that pins scattered. “One who looked like a witch,” he murmured as her hair fell heavily over his hands. “And I wanted her just as badly, but without those tender, those sweet feelings. God help me, I still want her.”

  When his mouth came down on hers, she didn’t protest. She’d also seen the truth in his eyes. He had loved her. Or he had loved the pretense of her. If desire was all he could give her now, she would take it. For duty she had sacrificed love, but even for duty, she wouldn’t sacrifice the crumbs she had left.

  She wrapped her arms around him. Perhaps if she could give him the passion, someday he would forgive her the rest.

  How easily he could lose himself in her. The passion was edgy and achy but it didn’t seem to matter. Her mouth was warm, her body slender and straining. If it wasn’t love she felt for him, at least there was need. He’d settled for no more than that before.

  “Tell me you want me,” he demanded as he moved his mouth desperately over her face.

  “Yes, I want you.” She hadn’t known it possible to feel triumph and defeat at the same time.

  “Come with me now.”

  “Bennett, I have no right to this.” She turned her face into his throat, wanting to draw just a little more of him into her. “I’m here only because—”

  With his hands on her shoulders he drew her away before she could finish the denial. “For today, for one day, we’ll put your duty and mine aside.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow comes whether we want it to or not. Give me a few hours, Hannah.”

  She would have given him her life, and somehow knew that would be easier than what he was asking now. Still, she put her hand in his.

  They went on horseback. As Hannah cantered beside him, she could see that Bennett knew the route to their destination well. They turned into the woods where they’d raced once before, and he took the lead. Each time doubts rose up to plague her, she beat them back. She would take the few hours she was being offered.

  She heard the stream before she saw it. It was a simple, musical sound that suited the leafy shade and towering trees. When Bennett came to it, he turned his horse south. For a quarter of a mile they rode along the bank in silence.

  The stream curved and twisted, then widened at a point where a trio of willows draped over it. Bennett stopped there and swung from the saddle.