An Officer and a Princess
Carla Cassidy
Bound by honor and devoted to his country, dashing lieutenant Adam Sinclair readily agreed to help Princess Isabel Stanbury carry out her brilliant plan to rescue her father, the missing King Michael.But he hadn't counted on the feelings that accompanied a reunion with the only woman he'd ever loved–or that posing as a married couple would feel so…right. Adam knew the country was depending on their ability to rescue the beloved king, but was he capable of resisting his traitorous heart?
Dear Reader,
This June—traditionally the month of brides, weddings and the promise of love everlasting—Silhouette Romance also brings you the possibility of being a star! Check out the details of this special promotion in each of the six happily-ever-afters we have for you.
In An Officer and a Princess, Carla Cassidy’s suspenseful conclusion to the bestselling series ROYALLY WED: THE STANBURYS, Princess Isabel calls on her former commanding officer to help rescue her missing father. Karen Rose Smith delights us with a struggling mom who refuses to fall for Her Tycoon Boss until the dynamic millionaire turns up the heat! In A Child for Cade by reader favorite Patricia Thayer, Cade Randall finds that his first love has kept a precious secret from him….
Talented author Alice Sharpe’s latest offering, The Baby Season, tells of a dedicated career woman tempted by marriage and motherhood with a rugged rancher and his daughter. In Blind-Date Bride, the second book of Myrna Mackenzie’s charming twin duo, the heroine asks a playboy billionaire to ward off the men sent by her matchmaking brothers. And a single mom decides to tell the man she has always loved that he has a son in Belinda Barnes’s heartwarming tale, The Littlest Wrangler.
Next month be sure to return for two brand-new series—the exciting DESTINY, TEXAS by Teresa Southwick and the charming THE WEDDING LEGACY by Cara Colter. And don’t forget the triumphant conclusion to Patricia Thayer’s THE TEXAS BROTHERHOOD, along with three more wonderful stories!
Happy Reading!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor
An Officer and A Princess
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Judy Christenberry, who shares the angst of every word written in all of my books, and the joys and angst of my life, as well.
I’m fairly certain we are sisters who were separated at birth, and I’m grateful fate brought us together again!
CARLA CASSIDY
is an award-winning author who has written over thirty-five books for Silhouette. In 1995 she won Best Silhouette Romance from Romantic Times Magazine for Anything for Danny. In 1998 she also won a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times Magazine for Best Innovative Series. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Chapter One
L ieutenant Commander Adam Sinclair hated waiting.
He glanced at his watch and frowned, staring at the door that would eventually open to allow him entry into her office.
Her. Isabel Stanbury. Not only a Princess of Edenbourg, but also a cabinet member and on the staff of the Ministry of Defense, and the woman who never seemed to drift far from his thoughts…a woman he could never, ever have as his own except in the forbidden dreams he had far too frequently.
Although he’d only been waiting a little over ten minutes, this wait seemed longer, more difficult than usual as he remembered her voice on the phone when she’d set up this appointment.
She’d sounded agitated, excited, and that worried him. Isabel was a strong woman who rarely gave in to her emotions, but she’d definitely sounded emotional on the phone.
His frown deepened, and he fought the impulse to rise and pace the small confines of the waiting room. Isabel’s secretary looked up, as if sensing his impatience, but she offered no reassuring smile.
Smiles were in short supply in Edenbourg these days. Three months ago King Michael had been kidnapped, throwing the entire small country into chaos. Since that time, Michael’s son, Crown Prince Nicholas was in hiding but presumed dead by the country as part of the royal plan, and Edward Stanbury, Michael’s estranged brother, had become King of Edenbourg. In other words, things in the country were in a royal mess.
Adam had been away at the time of the king’s kidnapping, working on a mission of his own…trying to clear his father’s name. But, he’d put his personal goals on hold when Isabel had called him home to aid in the search for the missing King Michael.
And that’s what they’d been doing for the past two months…following leads, investigating friends and family…and hitting the eventual dead ends.
“Lieutenant Sinclair,” the secretary called to him. “You can go in now.”
Adam nodded, stood and straightened his uniform jacket. He knew he was the epitome of a well-groomed officer. No errant pieces of lint spotted his pristine uniform, nor did a single dark hair stray from his close-cropped style. He knew what was expected from a high-ranking member of the Royal Edenbourg Navy, and Adam worked double-time to see that he not only met but surpassed expectations.
He had to work double time. He had to overcome the whispered rumors, the veiled innuendoes about his father. He shoved this painful thought aside as he opened the door to the office.
Isabel rose from behind her desk as he walked in. He stopped in the doorway and offered her a crisp salute.
“Lieutenant Sinclair,” she greeted him in that deep, low voice that he’d always found far too attractive. “Please, close the door behind you and have a seat.” She gestured to the chair in front of her desk.
He closed the door, then sat, trying not to notice how lovely she looked. As usual she was dressed in a smart blue business suit, the ornate family crest decorating one breast pocket.
What was unusual was the careless disarray of her shoulder-length dark brown hair and the bruise-like smudges of dark circles beneath her gorgeous green eyes. Both gave her an uncharacteristic vulnerability.
She looked tired and edgy, and an answering edginess stirred inside him.
He knew the past three months had been difficult on her. Although she and her father had often not seen eye to eye on her place in the royal family, he knew of her enormous love for King Michael.
She didn’t sit, but rather moved to the front of the desk and leaned back against it, displaying to him the perfect slender shapeliness of her long legs beneath the short, pencil-thin skirt. The thought of those legs of hers had given Adam many a sleepless night.
Princess Isabel Stanbury was not pretty in the traditional sense although there was beauty in her strong, bold features. Dark brows arched above the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. Her nose was narrow and straight…the Stanbury nose. Her mouth was generous, slightly too big for her face until she smiled, then it seemed to fit perfectly well.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. As always the air crackled with tension between them. “There have been some new developments.”
He leaned forward, intrigued by any news that might help in their search. “What kind of new developments?”
The last “developments” she’d pursued had nearly gotten her killed. Adam worked to control a shudder as he thought of how close she had come to getting a bullet in her back.
She reached to the desktop behind her, the slight stretch causing her jacket to pull taut across her breasts. Adam felt as if the temperature in the room had climbed a full ten degrees.
He averted his gaze to the wall to her left and didn’t look at her again until she handed him a piece of paper, then he focused his attention on it.
“What’s this?” he asked, staring at a list of names of people he’d never heard of before.
“A list of Shane Moore’s closest friends and associates. His sister, Meagan, gave it to me.”
Adam tried to ignore Isabel’s nearness. The scent of her slightly spicy perfume wafted in the air, and he steeled himself against its evocative fragrance. “And what exactly do you intend to do with this?”
She moved back to her desk and sat on the edge. “Find out what they know. Surely somebody on that list knows where my father is being held, and who is responsible for his kidnapping. Shane Moore was only a pawn in somebody’s bigger game, and I want that somebody.” Her spring-colored eyes glittered in a way that Adam found distinctly disconcerting…he recognized the glitter as trouble.
When Isabel had served a tour of duty in the navy, Adam had been her commanding officer. He’d immediately found her to be highly intelligent and self-sufficient. He’d also found her headstrong, stubborn and unwilling to sit on the sidelines in lieu of taking action whenever possible.
He steadfastly refused to contemplate the other traits he found too attractive…such as the silky feel of her hair beneath his fingertips and the intimate press of her body against his.
He actively fought against the memory of the single moment when they’d both nearly forgotten themselves and their respective positions and had almost shared a forbidden kiss. Almost.
“And just what makes you think the people on this list will talk to you…confide in you?” he asked in an attempt to stay focused on business at hand, rather than pleasure never shared.
“I’m going to go undercover.” She raised her chin and glared at him, as if challenging him to stop her.
“Need I remind your highness that it’s only been a week since you were nearly shot in the back by Shane Moore?” What Adam would never tell her was how often in the last week he’d suffered nightmares about that moment when Shane’s gun had been pointed at Isabel.
“If not for the quick action of your cousin, Luke, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he continued. “You wouldn’t be talking with anyone.”
She waved a hand, as if to dismiss the drama. “I’m still not convinced my dear cousin Luke doesn’t have something to do with my father’s disappearance.”
“He saved your life,” Adam observed.
She nodded, her eyes gleaming with the intelligence Adam had always admired. “He did, but at the same time did he also manage to kill a co-conspirator before he could talk?”
Adam sighed. “That thought has crossed my mind, too,” he admitted. “But, you can’t go undercover,” he protested. “Your picture is in the paper all the time. People know who you are.”
Adam tried not to think about the latest batch of pictures of her that had graced the society pages. In those photos she’d been dancing with a pretty-boy royal named Sebastian Lansbury, a distant cousin of the Thortons, the royal family from Roxbury, and a dandy if Adam had ever seen one.
The headlines had boldly announced the rumored engagement between the two and Adam had been surprised to feel a pang in his heart. That fair-haired fop in the pictures wasn’t what a strong, independent, passionate woman like Isabel needed.
“People are used to seeing me looking like a princess,” she replied and began to pace the small area in front of his chair.
Each time she swept past Adam, her fragrance tickled his nose and tantalized his senses. “Trust me, I can make it so nobody will ever recognize me as Princess Isabel.”
“It’s a foolish idea,” Adam replied curtly.
“Why?” she shot back.
It was one of the things he’d always admired about her, how she questioned authority, demanded rational explanations for decisions, and allowed herself to be open when those beneath her control did the same. It was also one of the things about her that irritated him.
She stopped her pacing and stood just in front of him, that familiar perfume enveloping him. “Tell me why you think it’s foolish.”
Because I don’t want anything to happen to you. Because I can’t imagine the world without you in it. Of course he didn’t say these things, would never, ever say these things.
“You know what kind of a person Shane Moore was…he was dangerous, and I’d venture to guess that the people who were his associates, his friends and acquaintances are dangerous as well.”
“Danger has never frightened me,” she scoffed.
“And that’s why you shouldn’t do this,” he returned evenly. “You know what your father would want…he’d want you here, working safely behind the scenes, not on the front lines risking your life.”
He knew he’d irritated her, reminding her of the subject of much tension and debate between daughter and father. Her frown created a tiny wrinkle in the center of her forehead. “My father would want all of us to do whatever we can to find him. I’m tired of sitting and waiting around for somebody else to find him.”
She began to pace once again, her shoulders stiff with tension and her footsteps determined and purposeful. “We know Shane Moore was responsible for my father’s kidnapping. We know he was also responsible for kidnapping Ben.”
Lieutenant Ben Lockhart had agreed to impersonate King Michael’s son, Nicholas, and had been kidnapped by Shane. Shane’s sister, Meagan, had been responsible for Ben’s safety and for the resulting unsuccessful attempted arrest of her brother…unsuccessful because Isabel’s cousin, Luke, had shot and killed Shane.
“The key to who has my father and where they are keeping him is on that sheet of paper. I feel it…it’s the only real lead we’ve had,” she said fervently. “Adam, Meagan already told us that she thinks my father had a stroke…for all we know he could be dying right now…all alone…in some horrid place.”
Her eyes grew too bright, and he realized she was on the verge of tears. He didn’t want to see her cry. He’d only seen her cry once before, and at that time her tears had nearly undone him, nearly caused him to cross a line into forbidden territory.
He sighed with a sense of resignation. “So, you’re really intent on doing this?”
She nodded, a curt motion that sent the ends of her wavy hair to dancing on top of her shoulders. She drew a deep breath and, as if by magic, whatever emotion had momentarily possessed her was once again under control. “Since Meagan gave me this list, I’ve got Ben doing background checks on each name. I should have pictures and complete information about each of them by late this afternoon.”
She was nothing if not efficient, he thought. He stood, unable to stay seated any longer. “I can’t believe your cousin would be a party to this.”
“Ben is a different man since he impersonated my brother and was kidnapped. He feels the same way I do…that if my father is still alive, time is running out and something has to be done. Besides, he knows I’m going to do this with or without his help.” She raised her chin to him.
“I can’t let you do this.” He tried one last time to change her mind. “It’s simply too dangerous. Give me all the information and I’ll assign somebody to the job. I know a dozen men and women who would do anything to help find the king.”
“No. I want to do this. Adam…I need to do this.” There was a soft plea in her voice. “I’ve already made arrangements to rent a room above the King’s Men Tavern. Meagan told me her brother and most of the names on this list spent a lot of time hanging out there.”
The King’s Men Tavern was near the palace, but few of the good king’s men had ever been there. The place had a reputation for trouble, and far too often the police were called in to break up fights or arrest unruly drunks. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.
But he could tell by looking at her that there was no point in trying to talk her out of it. Her features were taut, her chin raised in stubborn defiance. She intended to run with this…hook, line and sinker.
“And what is your back-up plan? One of the first things I ever taught you was that you never go into a dangerous situation without a back-up plan.”
“You’re my back-up plan,” she said.
He eyed her in surprise.
She took a step closer to him, and again he could smell her perfume, that heady scent that made him think of hot summer nights and slick, silky skin.
He fought the impulse to back away from her, refusing to allow her to see any weakness on his part. “And what role am I going to play in this scheme of yours?” he asked.
“I’m going undercover as Bella Wilcox, Shane Moore’s cousin.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew something, then grabbed Adam’s hand.
“And you will be Adam Wilcox.” She slid a plain gold band onto his ring finger. “My lawfully wedded husband.”
Isabel sank into her chair and released a sigh as Adam left her office. She immediately buzzed her secretary. “Laura, please hold my calls and clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon and the next two weeks.”
She heard her secretary’s surprise, but the woman was too professional to ask any questions. Too wired to sit still, Isabel stood and began to pace the small confines of her office.
If given a choice, she might have chosen somebody else to act as her “husband” in the undercover scheme. She and Adam had often butted heads over military policies and procedures, but that wasn’t what bothered her about him.
What bothered her were his gunmetal gray eyes with their sinfully long dark lashes. What bothered her were his impossibly broad shoulders, his taut, flat stomach and slender hips.
What bothered her was that when his gaze swept over her, she forgot the trappings of her title and the expertise of her training, and became simply a woman with a woman’s wants and needs.
There were times when Adam looked at her that she felt her knees weaken and her stomach knot and intense heat suffused her entire body. She knew it would be wise to choose somebody else for this undercover operation.
But for this particular assignment she needed the best, and Adam was the best. Well-trained, with an impressive record, Adam Sinclair was the only man on earth she would trust with this important mission.
Adam Sinclair was also the only man on earth who had ever seen her cry. She frowned and tried to forget that there had been a time when she’d believed herself hopelessly in love with him. And that there had been a single moment in time when she’d practically thrown herself into his arms and he’d remained disappointingly professional.
She couldn’t think about that now. That was in the past…in her youth. She had to focus on the task at hand. She knew her plan was dangerous, knew the people responsible for her father’s kidnapping were dangerous. But she would do whatever it took to find her father and put an end to the chaos that reigned in the country she so loved.
Tonight she would put out the word that she was going into seclusion, that the stress of the past three months had finally caught up with her. And tomorrow night she would begin her charade as Bella Wilcox, cousin to Shane Moore and wife of Adam.
She shivered, unsure what had her more anxious, rubbing elbows with dangerous men and women or living a pretend marriage with Adam Sinclair.
Chapter Two
T he interior of the King’s Men Tavern was far worse than Adam had imagined. The moment he stepped inside, acrid cigarette smoke assaulted him, scratching the back of his throat and stinging his eyes.
The tension in the air was thick, hinting that an explosion of tempers and passions could be imminent.
From the back of the establishment, the dull whack of billiard balls could be heard, mixing with the clink of glasses and bottles and the raucous shouts of the players.
Adam spied an empty stool at the bar and made his way to it, conscious of the speculative gazes that followed his progress.
Although he didn’t actively try to make eye contact with the tough guys in the place, he also didn’t avoid it. He knew in a place like this any sign of weakness was an open invitation to confrontation. While he certainly wasn’t afraid of anyone in the establishment, he also wasn’t looking for trouble.
It was important for him and Isabel to maintain a low profile. He didn’t want anyone looking too closely at him or her. Recognition could place them both in immediate danger.
He slid onto the stool, dropped his duffel bag to the floor and motioned to the bartender. The burly man approached wearing the world-weary expression of a man who would rather be anywhere than where he was.
Adam ordered a drink, then swiped a hand across his chin, unaccustomed to the scratchy whiskers along his jaw. In preparing for his role, he hadn’t shaved since the day before. Instead of his usual pristine uniform, he was clad in a pair of tight jeans and a black T-shirt.
The bartender slammed his drink down and Adam picked it up and spun around on the stool so he could view the entire room.
Isabel should be arriving within the next fifteen minutes or so. Adam had arrived early so he could get a feel for the place. He’d never been in here before, although he’d heard many stories of the place.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. The whole place stank of simmering violence and pathetic lies. He’d bet half the men in the room were felons, and the women didn’t look much better. His attention was captured by one particular woman across the room.
She was a burst of flash and color in a room of blacks and grays. Her teased hair was the color of a shiny new penny and her gold sparkly midriff blouse clung to pert, rounded breasts and exposed a flat, well-toned abdomen.
Her short black skirt barely covered her other assets, and cupped her well-shaped bottom. If she bent over too far, there would be no mysteries left, Adam thought. But, he couldn’t help but admire the sexy length of legs that disappeared into a pair of red spike high heels.
Obviously a working girl, he thought as he watched her chatting up a man who looked half drunk but managed to leer at her through bleary eyes.
Adam couldn’t fault the man for leering. Although Adam couldn’t discern the woman’s facial features in the dimness of the room, if her face matched her shape, she was definitely one hot-looking ticket.
Watching the woman, Adam felt a surge of blood sweep through him and realized it had been some time since he’d been with a woman. Since his father’s disappearance a little over a year before, Adam’s life had been consumed with trying to clear his father’s name…his own name. There had been no time and, truthfully, no inclination for romance.
Adam looked at his watch, then toward the front door. Just a few minutes after ten. Where in the hell was Isabel? They’d agreed to meet here at 10:00 p.m.
As soon as she walked in the door, he was going to grab her by the arm and steer her out of here. This was certainly no place for a princess. There had to be some other way to get the information Isabel sought.
He looked back at the woman across the room. Like a magnet, she drew him. As if she felt his gaze on her, she looked over to him. She grabbed the hand of the drunk standing next to her and began pulling him toward Adam.
Adam frowned, wondering if he’d committed some sort of faux pas merely by looking at the woman. Maybe the drunk was her pimp and they’d mistaken him for an interested john. He stood, unsure what to expect.
She drew close enough for him to see her features and he found himself admiring the full lips carefully colored with ruby-red lipstick, the high cheekbones pinkened with a blush of color and green eyes that suddenly caused shock to rivet through him.
He knew those green eyes. They weren’t the eyes of a hooker…they were the eyes of a princess. It was Isabel.
Before he had time to assess the situation, before his shock had completely worn off, she launched herself into him, pressing her warm lithe body intimately against his.
“I was just telling Willie here about my handsome hunk of a husband, then I look across the room and there you are,” she said, her head tilted back to look at him. “Now, kiss me, sweetheart, and show Willie just how glad you really are to see me.”
Her eyes beseeched him to play the game and with his head still reeling from shock, with her body warm and soft against his and her perfume dizzying his senses, Adam could do nothing but comply.
Someplace in the back of his mind, as his mouth descended to hers, he knew this was a major mistake. She hadn’t said anything about kissing her when she’d told him they were going undercover.
But, even knowing it was a mistake, Adam couldn’t stop the maelstrom of excitement that coursed through him as he realized he was about to do what he’d dreamed of doing for years. He was going to kiss Princess Isabel Stanbury.
He’d intended the kiss to be a mere brushing of lips, a perfunctory touch of mouths. But, the moment his lips met hers, desire roared through him.
With the press of her breasts against his chest, and his fingers touching the silky warm bare skin of her lower back, Adam lost himself in the kiss.
Her mouth was hot and opened eagerly to him as her arms wound tight around his neck. She tasted sweeter, hotter than in any of his fantasies, and his senses reeled with the reality of her in his arms.
After what seemed like a sweet eternity and a disappointing nanosecond at the same time, she broke the kiss. She took a step back from him, her cheeks flushed a heated pink and her green eyes widened in shock.
“I’d say the man is definitely glad to see you,” Willie snickered.
The man’s words seemed to break the stunned spell that had momentarily gripped Isabel. “Adam, darling, this is Willie Tammerick. He was a friend of my cousin Shane. Willie, this is my husband, Adam Wilcox.”
Adam nodded, disliking the way Willie’s gaze slid over Isabel, as if she were a delectable treat that he couldn’t wait to taste. He noticed other men in the bar looking at her in the same way.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her, find a coat and throw it over her, do whatever he could to hide the luscious curves she had on display. What was she thinking when she picked those revealing clothes? And what on earth had she done to her hair?
His blood boiled and he wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been utterly shameless and irresponsible in choosing her clothes, or if it was a residual effect of the kiss they’d just shared.
Despite his reluctance, he draped a hand over Isabel’s shoulder, keeping her close to his side and establishing a proprietorship to her for every other man in the bar.
“So, you were a friend of Shane’s?” Adam asked, once again directing his attention to Willie Tammerick.
The man was a skinny weasel of a man, with eyes set slightly too close together, a long pointed nose and a scraggly gray beard that cried out for the touch of a sharp razor.
“Sure, Shane and me…we were like this.” He held up two fingers twined together and stumbled slightly as if in raising his arm he’d thrown off his balance. “Poor Shane, shot to death by them royal guards like he was nothing but a damn dog.”
Somehow Adam doubted that a man as smart as Shane Moore would have been close friends with Willie, who appeared to be nothing more than a loose-mouthed drunk.
“I guess Shane got into something over his head,” Isabel said.
Willie grinned at her, a loopy smile that displayed a broken front tooth. “Now he’s in way over his head…six feet under, he is.” His smile fell away as he realized his morbid joke wasn’t appreciated. “There’s lots of us here that are going to miss old Shane. He was always good for buying a round or two.”
He looked at Adam expectantly, obviously hoping Adam might spring for a round of drinks. Instead Adam focused his attention on a tall, burly man with tattoos decorating tree-trunk sized arms who was intently focused on Isabel.
Hunger. It radiated from the man’s eyes and Adam found himself looking at Isabel not as a subordinate who had once served a tour of duty beneath him, not as a princess whom he was sworn to protect, but as a woman.
A woman with a killer body and a full, slightly pouty mouth that could muddy a man’s thoughts. A woman who could cause a bar fight just by fluttering her blackened lashes.
As he watched, the man sauntered toward them. Adam tensed, anticipating possible trouble. He tightened his arm around Isabel, then breathed a sigh of relief as the man swept past them and toward the billiard tables in the back.
The last thing Adam wanted was a brawl. What he wanted was to get the scantily clad Isabel out of here before he had to fight for her honor.
“I need to talk to you,” he said pointedly to Isabel.
Her eyes narrowed slightly and she nodded, then flashed Willie a winsome smile. “We’ll talk to you later, Willie. My old man wants to spend some time with me.”
Her “old man?” Where on earth had the princess learned such slang? As Willie wandered away, Isabel took a key from the tiny glittery purse she carried.
“Our room is up on the third floor,” she said and pointed to a doorway at the back of the bar. Beyond the doorway Adam could see a narrow staircase. “I haven’t been up there yet. Just let me get my bag.”
She stepped away from Adam and motioned to the bartender. “Bart, sweetie, can I have my bag?”
“Sure thing, doll.” The stoic bartender beamed a smile and winked at her then grabbed a hot-pink duffel bag from someplace behind the bar and slung it onto the polished surface where Isabel could grab it.
Adam watched the flirtatious exchange between the two and felt as if he’d entered some alternate universe. From the moment he’d walked through the door, he’d felt off-center and fought against a growing sense of unease.
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.
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