Kitabı oku: «An Officer and a Princess», sayfa 2

No, that wasn’t exactly true. It hadn’t been from the moment he’d walked through the door. It had been from the moment he’d seen her in that sexy get-up, and kissing her had only sent his senses further afield.

He felt utterly out of control and he didn’t like it one little bit. It was definitely time to get some control back. As he followed Isabel up the steep staircase that led to the rented rooms above the bar, he tried not to notice how tight her skirt fit across her shapely bottom. He tried not to notice the wiggle that accompanied each of her steps.

And he desperately tried to ignore the shaft of heat that each wiggle shot through him. He couldn’t do this. And she shouldn’t do this.

This place was too dangerous, and her choice of clothing, the role she’d chosen to play, were like tossing a lit match into a can of kerosene.

And at the moment, he felt like that explosive can of kerosene.

Isabel was acutely conscious of Adam just behind her as she climbed the steep wooden stairs to the third floor. The moment she’d first seen him sitting on the stool at the bar, her breath had caught in her chest. In all the years she’d known Adam, worked with him, she’d never seen him out of uniform.

Clad in a tight pair of worn black jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged the hard, well-defined muscles of his torso, he had looked as dangerous, as on the edge as any man in the room. The scruffy growth of whiskers that darkened his jawline only added to his dangerous appeal.

And that kiss. Heat swept through her as she thought of that moment when Adam’s lips had claimed hers. How many times had she fantasized about kissing him? Her fantasies hadn’t even begun to live up to the real thing.

Nothing she’d experienced so far in her life had prepared her for the utter pleasure and intense excitement of Adam’s kiss. In that single kiss, he’d claimed more than her lips, he’d stolen her breath and touched her frantically beating heart.

Adam didn’t say a word as they made their way up, but she felt an angry tension rolling off him. She’d worked with Adam often enough in the past to recognize when he was angry. But, this time she wasn’t sure what was causing his anger. So far their undercover subterfuge seemed to be working just fine.

By the time they reached the third floor she was slightly out of breath. She didn’t know if it was from the physical exertion of climbing the stairs or her mind playing and replaying that kiss over and over again in her head.

She found their room and inserted the key into the lock. When she shoved open the door, she couldn’t help but release a sigh of dismay. The place was a dump.

They stepped inside, and Adam closed the door behind them. “What did you expect? The Ritz?” he asked. His voice was curt, clipped.

“At least it looks relatively clean,” she replied. It was true, the room was small, holding only a double bed, a cigarette-scarred nightstand and a lumpy chair. The only light in the room was an ugly lamp with a shade that sat askew. But, the carpet was clean and the room held the scent of a pine cleanser.

She peeked into the tiny bathroom. No tub, just a miniscule shower stall, but this room also looked clean. She turned and looked at Adam, who stood in the center of the room with a frown marring his handsome face. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “It could be worse.”

“No, it’s not so bad,” he agreed, but she wasn’t fooled by his affable reply. “And it doesn’t really matter if it’s bad or not because we are not going to stay here,” he added.

Isabel looked at him in astonishment. “What are you talking about? Of course we’re going to stay here. It’s part of the plan.”

“It’s a ridiculous plan, and what have you done to your hair?” He looked at her as if she were an alien from another planet.

She reached up and touched a strand of her bright copper hair. “It’s a rinse. The directions said it would wash out in a couple of weeks. It’s part of my disguise.”

“And what about those clothes? Where on earth did you get them?” His gray eyes glittered like hot metal in the sunshine. “You look like…you look like…”

“I look nothing like a princess,” she interrupted.

“And that was the whole idea.” She frowned. She’d been so pleased at her selections, certain that her clothes would allow her to fit right into the crowd in the bar.

“Half the men in the room were ready to make a move on you,” he exclaimed, his eyes stormy seas of anger.

She shrugged, surprised yet oddly pleased by this piece of information. “Really? But that’s good then. It means my disguise worked.”

He eyed her ruefully. “Isabel, they probably thought you were a working woman and wondered what kind of fee you charged.”

“You mean they thought I was…I am…a hooker?” she squeaked and sank down on the edge of the bed. “Maybe I did overdo it a bit,” she admitted ruefully and looked down at her tiny skirt and midriff top. “But, at least it worked, nobody recognized me as a princess.” She flashed a smile in hopes of breaking the tension.

He didn’t return the smile, but rather began to pace in front of her. Clad all in black, he looked like a dangerous panther seeking an escape route.

Isabel waited for him to speak, knowing he wouldn’t until he had his thoughts in order. It was one of the things that had always driven her crazy about him. Adam never did or said anything spontaneously.

He finally stopped pacing and stood before her. “I won’t allow you to do this, Isabel.”

She stood and narrowed her eyes, rebelling against the authoritative tone of his voice. “You won’t allow me to do this?” she asked.

She stepped so close to him she could feel the heat radiating from his body, see the tiny silver flecks that gave his gray eyes a magnetic depth. “You forget, Adam. You aren’t my commanding officer anymore. You can’t stop me from doing this.”

“That’s true.” His gaze focused on her lips and suddenly the thought of the kiss they had shared filled her mind.

Without her volition she licked her lips, her mouth unaccountably dry. “I intend to do this, Adam, with or without your help. Either you are with me or you are against me.”

He took a step back from her and raked a hand through his short hair in obvious frustration. “You know I can’t walk out and leave you alone in this place.”

She nodded, a sense of relief flooding through her. “Then you’re with me.”

“You’ve given me very little choice,” his voice was rich with irritation. “I’m with you on one condition,” he said. His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “You promise me you won’t wear that outfit again. I don’t want to have to battle the wise guys in this place for your honor.”

“And you would do that? Fight for my honor?” she teased.

“Of course I would,” he replied instantly. “It’s my job to protect and serve the king and his family.”

Isabel wasn’t sure why, but his answer disappointed her. He never forgot his position as a commanding officer in the Royal Edenbourg Navy. Just once, she wished he would forget their respective positions, forget duty and responsibility and meet her simply as a man meeting a woman.

“Did you get some background information from Ben?” he asked.

She nodded and reached for her duffel bag. Clothing spilled out onto the bed as she dug in the bottom for the papers that contained material they would need in their attempt to connect with Shane Moore’s associates.

She pulled out the papers, stuffed the clothes back into the bag, and then patted the space next to her for Adam to sit. He eased down next to her, bringing with him a scent of minty soap and spicy cologne. She held the papers out before her and he leaned into her to read them with her.

“This is the list of the names of people we now know were associates of Shane’s,” she said, trying to focus on the business at hand and ignore how warm his thigh was against hers despite the barrier of his jeans.

“We already made contact with Willie Tammerick. Here’s the information Ben was able to pull up on him.” She shuffled the papers, her fingers becoming all thumbs as Adam leaned even closer, his shoulder rubbing hers.

“No surprises there,” he murmured. “The man has a history of arrests for drunk and disorderly, public nuisance and disturbing the peace.”

His breath was warm on the side of her face and again she found herself remembering their kiss. His mouth had been so hot and had tasted of a hunger that had momentarily stolen her breath away.

No kiss in her entire life had affected her like Adam’s, torching her deep in the pit of her stomach, touching her in a primal place that had never been touched before by any man.

“Isabel.” The single word held a touch of exasperation and she realized he’d been talking to her, but she’d not been listening.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted. What did you say?”

“I said I can’t imagine Shane Moore confiding anything important to Willie. Shane was too smart to confide in a drunk.”

Isabel nodded. “I think you’re probably right. I talked to Willie for a while before you came in tonight and tried to pump him for information, but I don’t think he has any idea what Shane was involved in.”

Ben Lockhart had done an excellent job in pulling together background material on most of the people on the list from Meagan Moore. Not only had he detailed their rap sheets, but also when possible, he’d obtained a photograph.

For the next two hours, Adam and Isabel pored over the information. Adam pointed to one of the pictures Ben had provided of a burly man with tattoos.

“Blake Hariman,” Isabel said, reading the name beneath the photo. “Nice guy. His arrests include armed robbery, possession of a deadly weapon and aggravated assault.”

“And according to Ben’s information, he was one of Shane’s closest friends.” Adam gazed at her intently. “Isabel, we’re playing a dangerous game with dangerous people here. If any one of them get the faintest hint that we aren’t what they think, what we’re pretending, then we could wind up dead.” His expression was somber, his eyes deep pools of gray mist.

“I know,” she agreed. “But, there’s no reason for anyone to suspect us of being anything other than Bella and Adam Wilcox. I told Bart, the bartender, that you’re looking for work and he said he might be able to set you up doing odd jobs around here. I think we’re pretty solid in our disguise, Adam.”

For the first time since they’d entered the room, Adam smiled. Isabel felt the power of his smile right down to her toes. Adam was an attractive man when he was somber, but when he smiled, he was absolutely devastating.

“We sure don’t have to worry about anyone recognizing you. I’ve never known a bottle of rinse and some makeup to make such a difference. I watched you for several minutes before I finally realized that you were you.”

“You were watching me?” Isabel eyed him curiously, a sweeping warmth shooting through her. Had he been watching her because he’d thought she looked good?

His smile fell from his features, and was replaced by a frown. “I was watching everyone,” he replied. He got up from the bed and looked at his watch. “It’s after midnight. Shouldn’t we call it a night?”

Isabel nodded and quickly gathered up the papers and shoved them back into her duffel bag. She stood and was suddenly struck by just what “call it a night” would entail.

She and Adam were pretending to be man and wife. They would spend the night in this room together. Tonight, and every night for as long as they played this game, they would sleep side by side in the bed that suddenly looked far too small.

Chapter Three

“T raitor!” The crowd of people shouted, their fists raised in rage. “You’re a traitor to the crown!” The mood was wicked…dangerous and several of the people picked up rocks and threw them at the man before them.

The man, resplendent in a naval uniform with ribbons and medals decorating his chest, didn’t flinch, didn’t attempt to escape the crowd’s wrath.

Adam watched in horror as his father was stoned. Then suddenly the scene changed and it was Adam being stoned. The rocks of various sizes and shapes thudded painfully into his body as the crowd feverishly chanted.

“Traitor!”

“Traitor!”

There was no hazy transition from sleep to awareness. One minute he was dreaming and the next moment he was wide awake, the horrid nightmare merely a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

He was instantly aware of aching bones and sore muscles, but knew the soreness wasn’t from a nightmare stoning, but rather from attempting to sleep in the lumpy chair next to the bed.

He pulled himself upright from his slumped position and checked the luminous dial of his wristwatch. Almost two. Despite the lateness of the hour, light illuminated the spaces around the curtains at the window. Adam knew the light came from the bright sign that proclaimed the name of this establishment.

He focused his gaze on the bed, where Isabel slept soundly. She was on her back and the sheet had fallen down around her waist, giving him a tantalizing view of her rounded breasts covered with the thin lilac silk of her nightgown.

He knew he shouldn’t look, but he couldn’t help but drink in the lovely sight of her. In sleep her features took on a soft vulnerability rarely seen when she was awake. Her long lashes cast shadows beneath her eyes and her mouth was opened slightly, as if awaiting a lover’s kiss. Her skin looked creamy and touchable.

Frowning, he jerked his gaze away from her.

It had been awkward when they’d prepared to go to bed. Adam hadn’t contemplated all that this subterfuge would entail. He’d certainly not considered the fact that it might include sleeping with Isabel.

He’d changed from his clothing into a pair of athletic shorts in the bathroom while she’d gotten into her nightgown in the bedroom. Then, once she’d gotten into bed, Adam had left the bathroom and insisted he would spend the night on the chair.

Pulling himself up, he silently walked the length of the room in an effort to unkink muscles, and tried to keep his gaze away from the slumbering princess. But it was impossible.

It was as if in sleep she called to him and he found himself at the edge of the bed, gazing at her more openly, more intently than he ever did when she was awake.

From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d found her beautiful, with an earthy edge to her features that whispered of a latent sexuality.

He frowned once again, pulled his gaze away from her and instead stepped over to the window. Pulling the curtain aside, he peered outside and to the deserted street below. But his thoughts were distant.

Thinking of the nightmare he’d suffered, his stomach clenched tight and he felt the suffocating press of emotion inside his chest. For a little over a year he’d lived in the shadow of the suspicions about his father.

He knew his father wasn’t a traitor, would never sell out to another country, but knowing and proving were two different things. He’d been trying to find out exactly what had happened to Admiral Jonathon Sinclair when Isabel had called him home because of the kidnapping of King Michael.

And so, his personal mission had been put on hold for a greater mission…to find Isabel’s kidnapped father. He let the curtain fall closed once again, then turned as he heard Isabel stir.

She turned her head and opened her eyes, appearing drowsy and still half-asleep. “Adam?”

“I’m right here,” he replied softly.

“What are you doing?”

“Just prowling a bit. I couldn’t sleep.”

She stretched languidly. “That’s because you’re trying to sleep in that awful chair. Come to bed, Adam. Nothing terrible will happen if we share the bed.” Almost before the words were out of her mouth, her eyes had drifted closed and she was once again asleep.

Adam contemplated her words. Nothing terrible will happen if we share the bed. He didn’t want to think about getting back on that chair, with its lumpy back and ill-stuffed seat.

But, the vision of Isabel in that gold short top and that miniscule skirt haunted him. As they’d discussed the various people on Meagan Moore’s list, Isabel’s full, ruby lips had taunted him, and her floral-and-spice scent had made concentration difficult.

He was accustomed to seeing her in a business setting, with both of them in uniform, not in a casual setting with her wearing next to nothing.

With a tired sigh, he threw himself back into the torturous chair. She might not think anything terrible would happen if they shared the bed, but he wasn’t so sure. In his state of heightened awareness where she was concerned, he wasn’t sure he could trust himself.

When he awakened again, dawn was trying to seep in around the edges of the curtain. With a groan, Adam struggled to his feet, his back an aching mass of muscle from the awkward position of his sleep.

Isabel was still asleep. She’d claimed the very center of the bed and was sprawled on her stomach, her face buried in one of the pillows.

Although it was early, Adam knew he couldn’t sleep anymore. He rarely required more than three or four hours anyway. Quietly, he pulled clean clothes from his duffel bag, then went into the bathroom.

A moment later, standing beneath a surprisingly hot, strong spray of water in the shower, Adam thought about the task ahead of him and Isabel.

He knew the investigation into the king’s kidnapping had begun with the focus on the immediate family members and their friends. Nobody had been spared scrutiny, including King Michael’s brother, Edward, who had now assumed the king’s responsibilities, and his two sons, Luke and Blake. Since Michael’s kidnapping, Blake had married Rowena Wilde, Isabel’s lady-in-waiting.

No red flags had gone up with anyone who had been investigated so far, leaving everyone to speculate on just who had been giving Shane Moore his orders. Who had been responsible for the king’s kidnapping? And why?

In a last-ditch effort to force the hand of the conspirators, a rumor had been circulated that Prince Nicholas had been found dead, but so far that rumor had prompted no move from the guilty.

Today was Shane Moore’s funeral and Adam wondered how many of Shane’s cohorts would show up to pay their respects. Although Isabel hadn’t mentioned it yet, he had a feeling he and “Bella Wilcox” would be among the bereaved.

He sighed and shut off the shower. He hoped he and Isabel weren’t in over their heads. He knew if anything happened to Isabel while she was with him, it would be another nail in the coffin of his family name.

Dressing, he shoved these thoughts out of his head. He couldn’t focus on his family problem now. He had to stay focused on pretending to be Adam Wilcox, not Lieutenant Commander Adam Sinclair.

He stepped out of the bathroom, surprised to see Isabel awake and propped up on the pillows. The sheet demurely covered her, only a whisper of lilac silk visible at her shoulders.

“I hope you saved me some hot water,” she said, a little edge of crankiness in her voice.

“And good morning to you, too,” Adam said dryly.

She frowned and raked a hand through her hair. “I don’t suppose this place has room service.”

“Ha, fat chance,” Adam retorted. He sat on the chair to put on his shoes. “But, if you’ll get dressed, we should be able to find a place to have breakfast someplace nearby.”

“Coffee…that’s what I need,” she said as she shoved the covers back and stood.

Adam averted his gaze, but not before he caught a glimpse of her with the silky nightgown clinging to every curve. His internal temperature skyrocketed, and he was grateful when she disappeared into the bathroom.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and leaned back in the chair. This was going to be harder than he’d thought. He hadn’t slept well and was already dreading another night on the damnable chair.

However, the thought of lying next to Isabel on the too-soft mattress, the thought of feeling her body heat washing over him, filled him with an almost unbearable tension.

He’d fought his feelings for Isabel for years. First, when she’d been a recruit under his command. Even then, there had been awareness between the two of them, a heady tension that had filled him both with excitement and dread.

Any relationship between an officer and a recruit was strictly forbidden, and neither of them had been willing to jeopardize their careers for a tempestuous foray into romance, no matter how appealing that romance might have been.

But, you aren’t her commanding officer anymore, a small voice whispered inside his head. True, he wasn’t. But, she was a princess, and he was a man with a dishonorable stain on his family name.

Half the people in the country of Edenbourg believed his father was a traitor. Adam certainly wasn’t a potential suitor for Princess Isabel.

Besides, if the newspapers were correct, she was already bound to the pretty-boy Sebastian Lansbury and King Michael had given his approval to the match right before his kidnapping.

It was best for Adam to keep his mind on two goals…the first was to find the king, and the second was to clear his father’s name. Isabel was just as taboo for him now as when she’d been his recruit and he’d been her commanding officer. And he would do well to remember that over the next couple of weeks.

Isabel polished off the last of her second buttered croissant, feeling much better than she had when she’d first awakened.

She and Adam sat in a small café just down the street from the King’s Men Tavern. It was early enough in the morning that only a few patrons drifted in as Adam and Isabel ate breakfast.

Isabel was once again clad in “Bella” clothes, although she’d chosen the least risqué of what she’d packed in deference to Adam’s wishes.

Bright purple slacks hugged her tightly, and a blouse the same hue clashed cheerfully with her hair color. Spike heels and dangly earrings completed her fashion statement for the day.

Adam was a lot less creative in his dress code. He was clad in another pair of black jeans and a clean gray T-shirt that did magnificent things to his gray eyes.

“That was the best croissant and coffee I’ve had in months,” she said.

“It certainly seems to have improved your mood,” he observed dryly.

She grinned, unable to protest his words. “I’m not much of a morning person. I don’t function very cheerfully until I’ve had a morning cup of coffee.”

“I gathered that.” He motioned to the waitress for a refill of their coffee cups.

“Shane’s funeral is at ten,” she said when the waitress had departed from their table. “We’ll take a taxi to the cemetery.”

“Are you sure it’s wise we go?” he asked. “Surely some of the royal investigators will be there. We don’t want to be recognized.”

She smiled and eyed him objectively. “I don’t think we have to worry about being recognized. I don’t look like me, and with all those whiskers you’ve sprouted, you don’t look like you.”

What she couldn’t tell him was that she’d always found him exceedingly handsome, but with the dark shadows of whiskers on his cheeks and in the casual clothing that emphasized his muscular fitness, he nearly stole her breath away.

“It’s important that we see who shows up at the funeral, Adam. The mastermind of the whole kidnapping scheme might be there,” she said, trying to stay focused.

“I doubt it,” Adam replied and took a sip of his coffee. “Whoever is behind the scheme is far too smart to show up and publicly announce his ties to a fallen comrade.”

Isabel sighed in discouragement. “You’re probably right. I just wish…I just desperately want to be the one to find Father.”

“Isabel.” Adam reached across the small table and placed his hand on hers. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, especially not to your father.”

Isabel frowned, finding his words surprising and his touch more than a little bit disturbing. She pulled her hand away. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with my father,” she protested. “And you better start practicing calling me Bella, not Isabel.”

“I know how upset you were when he refused to allow you to continue your tour of duty with the navy.”

“That was a long time ago,” she replied, not quite meeting his gaze. “I realize Father was only making the decision he thought best for me.”

Although it was what she’d told herself over and over again, the pain of her father’s decision was still with her. She’d loved being in the military and it was the night her father had told her she couldn’t extend her tour of duty that she’d wept in Adam’s arms.

As he’d held her on that night, attempting to console her, she’d realized she wasn’t sure if she’d wanted to remain in the navy for her career, or simply to continue being near Adam.

It hadn’t mattered anyway, for on that night she’d raised her lips to him, and he’d turned away, telling her without actually saying the words that there was no future between them, that he had no personal feelings toward her.

“You would have made a terrific intelligence officer,” Adam said softly.

A burst of warmth swept through her at his words. “Thank you,” she said simply. But she cradled the words to her heart, knowing Adam wasn’t given to false compliments or platitudes.

They lingered over their breakfast, as if reluctant to return to their cramped living space. As they drank more coffee, they spoke of inconsequential things…movies they’d seen, favorite music, people they both knew.

There were moments when Adam’s eyes grew dark, deep with thought, and she wondered if he was thinking about his father. She hadn’t told him that when she’d called him home to help find the king, she’d assigned a task force of two of Edenbourg’s best investigators to dig deep into the disappearance of Adam’s father.

Like Adam, she couldn’t believe the highly decorated retired Admiral Jonathon Sinclair had sold out and disappeared from Edenbourg along with a fighter plane prototype worth billions of dollars and priceless in high-tech applications.

At nine-thirty, they left the café and grabbed a taxi to take them to the cemetery where Shane Moore would be laid to rest. They asked the driver to wait there until they were ready to leave.

At the cemetery, they found a dismally small group of people gathered around the casket bearing the dead rebel. They joined the group and Isabel scanned the faces of the people, identifying several from the pictures Ben had gathered.

Willie Tammerick, already looking three sheets to the wind, nodded to the two of them as the minister began to intone a passionless eulogy that made it obvious he had not known Shane personally.

Conspicuously absent was Meagan, Shane’s sister. When Lieutenant Ben Lockhart had impersonated Prince Nicholas and gotten himself kidnapped by Shane, it had been Meagan who had come to Ben’s defense, and ultimately the two had fallen in love.

Isabel shot a surreptitious glance at Adam. In all the years she had known him, in all the time they had worked closely together, she had no idea if he’d ever been in love. She didn’t even know if he believed in love.

But, there had been a time when she’d believed herself in love with him, a time when she’d believed the sun rose and set on Adam Sinclair. She told herself she’d outgrown those feelings, but that didn’t explain why he still made her heart race just a little faster than normal, why when he directed those gorgeous gray eyes at her, she felt both hot and cold at the same time.

Frowning, she once again scanned the funeral-goers, her gaze falling on a woman who stood at the edge of the small group.

She was a tall, buxom blonde and would have been quite pretty if not for the tears that raced down her face, reddening her nose and swelling her eyes.

A jolt of adrenaline swept through Isabel. Pam Sommersby. It had to be her. She’d seen mention of the woman in the notes from Ben, but there had been no photograph of Shane Moore’s girlfriend, instead there had only been a physical description.

Isabel grabbed Adam’s arm and squeezed until he looked down at her questioningly. She gestured toward the woman with a nod of her head. Adam followed her gesture, then looked back at Isabel. She reached up on her tiptoes so she could whisper in his ear. “I think that’s Shane’s girlfriend, Pam Sommersby.”

Adam leaned down to whisper his reply in her ear. “We’ll try to talk to her after the service.”

Isabel nodded, distracted by his warm breath in her ear, the scent of his cologne that seemed to envelop her in a spicy cocoon.

She focused once again on the minister, who was finishing up with a prayer. When the service was over, the small group of people dispersed quickly, leaving only the black-clad sobbing blonde.

Isabel and Adam returned to their cab, but stood by the doors, waiting to approach the grieving woman. Isabel wanted to hate the woman who had been the girlfriend of the man responsible for her father’s kidnapping. But, as she watched the woman place a single rose on Shane Moore’s casket, saw the absolute agony of her heartbreak, Isabel couldn’t help but feel a touch of pathos for her.

It wasn’t until the woman left the gravesite and started walking toward a dark sedan that Isabel hurried after her.

“Pam,” Isabel called. “Pam Sommersby.”

The woman stopped and looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open in surprise. She turned and quickened her footsteps.

“Pam, stop! I just want to talk to you.”

Before Isabel could reach her, Pam yanked open the car door and hopped inside. She started the car, gunned the engine, and then took off in a swirl of dust down the lane that led out of the cemetery.