A Throne for the Taking (7 page)

‘Persuade me.’

With no other alternative, Ria had to go over it all again. The one thing she didn’t do was to mention anything about personal involvement. Deep down inside she knew instinctively that that could only act against her. She knew now how much he hated her family, how he would do anything rather than help them in any way. It was perhaps an hour and a half later that she stopped, drawing in a much-needed breath, reaching for the glass of water that had replaced the coffee of earlier. Gulping down the drink she had left ignored as she focussed totally on the man opposite her, she struggled to ease the discomfort of her parched throat as she waited for his response.

It was a long time coming. A long, uncomfortable time as he subjected her to a burning scrutiny. Like her he reached for his crystal tumbler of iced water but the swallow he took was long, slow and indolently relaxed.

‘Very interesting,’ he drawled, leaning back in his seat, never taking his eyes off her for a moment. ‘But you neglected to explain that the situation is not quite as simple as you made out. There’s one more thing I want to know.’

‘Anything.’ She didn’t care if she sounded close to desperate. That was how she felt, so why try to hide it at this delicate stage?

‘Anything?’ There was a definite challenge in the dark-eyed look he slanted in her direction. ‘Then tell me about the marriage.’

‘The—the marriage...’

Ria’s stomach twisted painfully, her discomfort made all the worse by the way that the plane had suddenly hit a patch of turbulence and lurched violently, dropping frighteningly, down and then back up again.

‘Yes, the marriage your father has arranged for you. I am the heir to the throne if the individual positions in the hierarchy—the direct line—are considered. On my own, I have the stronger claim—if I want it.’

There it was again, that note of threat that he might refuse the crown, and leave her stranded without a hope of finding any other way out—as she now suspected he had known all along. How he must have enjoyed watching her perform all over again, knowing all the while that he understood the real truth of her position, the cleft stick she was caught in with little hope of escape.

‘But you omitted to point out that it is not just Ivan who also has a distant potential claim to the throne.’

The glass he held was placed on the table with deliberate care. The same control showed as he stood up, big and dark and lean, towering over her and making even the space of the luxurious jet feel confined and restricted in a sudden and shocking way. Forced to raise her head to look up at him, she found that the air in the cabin seemed to have thickened and grown heavier.

‘You forgot to say...’ His tone made it plain that he didn’t think for a moment she had forgotten anything. ‘that you and Ivan have a unique connection where the crown is concerned. Individually his claim is so much weaker, but
together
you would be almost unassailable.’

Ria could almost feel the blood draining from her face. She must look like a ghost, and that would show him how perfectly he had hit the mark.

‘There is no together!’

His gesture might have been flicking away a fly, it was so scornfully dismissive of her protest.

‘Are you saying that none of this is true? That Ivan’s claim to the throne is clear and open, with no other help needed—and you won’t need him to free your father, restore your family fortunes to the way they used to be?’

He made it sound so mercenary. But then what had she expected from a man who so blatantly despised her and every member of her family?

‘No—’

There was no togetherness between Ivan and her. Nothing except the one that had been forced on her, that she would have to accept if Alexei didn’t listen to her pleas. The prospect of freedom from the future she dreaded that had seemed to open up before her now seemed to be moving further away with every breath she took. Ria pushed herself to her feet, needing the greater strength of a position facing him on a much better level, her green eyes meeting his head-on.

‘I mean, yes, it’s true that if I marry him his right to the throne is strengthened...’

‘Isn’t it
when
you marry him?’ Alexei slipped in, cold and deadly. ‘I understand that the contract has already been signed.’

By her father. Without any consultation or even her knowledge. She had been used as a pawn in the political bargaining.

‘I— How did you find out that?’ How could he know about the contract her father had made with Ivan, when she had only become aware of it herself just days before?

‘I have my sources.’

He’d been up all night, and he’d called in all his contacts, investigating exactly what was behind this sudden desire of hers to have him as king in Mecjoria. All the time she had been talking yesterday—and again just now—he had sensed she was holding something back, keeping something hidden. He had never expected that it would be this.

Once he had found the real explanation he had been unable to think of anything else. Because this turned everything upside down from the way he’d seen everything at first. He’d been convinced that Ria had brought him the document that proved his parents’ marriage valid, and that he was the rightful king, because that would give her—and her family—an advantage if he came to the throne. She was softening him up so that he would release her father, restore the family fortunes...

The discovery of the proposed marriage to Ivan Kolosky made a nonsense out of all that. Even more so because she had never said a word about it.

That marriage would give her everything she wanted—and more. It would make her Queen of Mecjoria and he knew that had always been Gregor Escalona’s deepest ambition. The reason why he had insisted on his daughter’s immaculate behaviour, training her to be the perfect young royal, controlling every move, every decision she made. It was the reason why Gregor had betrayed his father’s memory by bringing the legitimacy of his marriage into question. So why had she even brought the marriage certificate to him in the first place? And why had she never mentioned the proposed marriage to Ivan?

Last night he had thought he had decided on a way to play this that would give him retribution for all that had happened to him and his mother when they had been exiled from their home, losing every last penny of the fortune that should have been theirs, his mother’s good name along with it, but at last it seemed that payback was within his grasp.

But one more discovery and everything had changed. There was more on offer now. More than he could ever have dreamed of. He wanted more. And there was one way he was sure of getting it.

‘So now how about you tell me the real truth?’

He saw the wariness in her eyes, the shadow that crossed her face, and it made him all the more determined to get to the bottom of all of this.

He’d planned on giving her another chance to give him the real facts this morning, but the truth was that as soon as she’d started to speak his concentration had been shot to pieces. All he could focus on was the way she looked, with that dark auburn hair pulled back into a pony tail so that it exposed the fine bone structure of her features, the brilliance of her eyes. Tiny silver earrings sparkled in her lobes, seeming to catch the flash of her eyes as she leaned towards him, elegant hands coming up to emphasise her points. The movement of her mouth fascinated him, the soft rose-tinted curve of her lips moving to emphasise what she had to say, the faint sheen of moisture on them making him want to lean forward and kiss her hard and fierce, plunge his tongue into her open mouth and taste her again as he had done the night before.

She hadn’t said anything about Ivan and that made him grit his teeth tight against the questions that needed answers. Now he couldn’t look at her without thinking about Ivan—and about her with Ivan. Acid rose in his throat at just the thought of it and the blood heated in his veins, making his heart punch harshly, a pulse throbbing near his temple. The thought of her with anyone else—anyone but him—was too much to take. But with
Ivan...

And that feeling—that fury of jealousy, the hunger, that sensation of being alive that had been missing in his life for so long—told him so much. It erased the numbness he had been living—existing—with, the deadness that had invaded his world since the loss of first his father, and later the baby daughter he had barely started to get to know. He hadn’t felt this way in years and he wanted it back. And he wanted Ria, as the woman who had given sensation back to him.

‘That if you can’t persuade me to take the throne, then you are tied into a contract to marry Ivan, and so strengthen his claim to the inheritance. Tell me—why not just go with the marriage to Ivan? After all it would make you Queen of Mecjoria.’

‘My father might want that, perhaps, but not me!’

But this was what her father had been training her for, the summit of her family’s ambitions. And if being queen had been her ambition too then all she had had to do was to leave the marriage document where it was.

‘You don’t want to be queen?’

‘And you want to be king?’ she tossed back, earning herself a faint, twisted smile and an ironical inclination of his head in acknowledgement of the hit. But she hadn’t spent the past ten years exiled from the country he was now supposed to rule.

‘Where was the marriage certificate found?’ he demanded now, wanting to get at the truth.

It was a question she didn’t want to answer, that much was obvious, and yet he didn’t think she was trying to deceive him. Sharp white teeth dug into the softness of her lower lip, and he was suddenly assailed by the impulse to protest at the damage she was doing to the delicate skin. Instead he made himself repeat the question in order to divert his thoughts.

‘Where?’

Her delicate chin came up defiantly, gold-green eyes blazing into his.

‘My father had it all the time. It was in his safe when I checked in there after he was arrested. My mother begged me to look for something that might help.’ Once more her teeth worried at her lip as she obviously had to push herself to go on. ‘I also found the contract between him and Ivan then.’

‘You hadn’t known before?’

He could well believe that of Gregor, conspiring with anyone he could in secret. But would he really sign his daughter’s life away without her knowing?

‘I knew nothing about it!’ There was the tremor of real horror in her voice.

‘Your father can’t force you into this.’

Her soft mouth twisted into an expression of resignation—or was it bitterness?

‘In Mecjoria, royalty—even unimportant royalty like me—don’t expect to marry for love. Dynastic contracts matter so much more than personal feelings. And right now peace is what matters. I meant everything I said about the possible consequences if the succession isn’t easy and smooth. If not you, then Ivan is the only logical candidate.’

‘But neither of us wants Ivan to take the throne.’

‘No, we both know what a disaster that would be.’

The way she rushed to agree with him, the tone in which she did it, scraped roughly across his exposed skin. The mood of calm and control that had come from feeling that he had her just where he wanted her was starting to fray at the edges, coming unravelled with every breath he drew in. Last night she had claimed she’d given him every argument she possessed but she’d kept this vital point carefully back. And hiding that point showed him just how much she had wanted to influence him into agreeing to her plans without ever knowing the full story.

She had only forced herself to come to him because she had no possible alternative. Because her country needed it now that she had proof that he wasn’t illegitimate, that he was truly as royal as she was—more. But because she needed it too. Would she have told him about the document if she hadn’t also been able to use it to her own advantage? Because she wasn’t prepared to sacrifice her own freedom in order to rescue the place herself. She hadn’t reckoned on him ever finding out about the proposed union between her family and Ivan’s—at least not until it was too late.

‘So you will do as I ask? You will take the throne?’

There was a very different mood in the words, with a whole new sparkle in those eyes, a lift to the warm curve of her mouth. She thought she had got what she wanted from him—that she had worked out a way of ensuring an heir to the throne but without her having to tie herself into marriage with the only other candidate for the crown. So that he could live the restricted, controlled life of a royal while she kept her freedom and could live as she pleased.

He felt used, manipulated. But it didn’t stop him wanting her.

And wanting her didn’t stop him recognising that her father had done a good job in training her up to be a queen—whoever’s wife she might be. From acknowledging what an asset she would be as anyone’s consort—and it didn’t have to be Ivan’s. He didn’t want her to be Ivan’s any more than she did.

‘I could be persuaded,’ he said slowly.

The light that her smile brought to her eyes almost made him lose his grip on his temper as icy rage swamped him. She thought she was winning and that pushed him dangerously close to the edge. All he wanted was to pull the rug out from under her, let her know that he already had all her secrets and he fully intended to use them to his own advantage.

But there was more pleasure in letting things out bit by bit than in dumping everything on her all at once.

‘I will do as you ask,’ he said slowly, keeping his eyes locked on her face to enjoy watching her reaction. ‘But there are terms.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘T
ERMS
?’ R
IA
ECHOED
the word on a note of pure horror. ‘What sort of terms?’

‘Terms that you and I need to agree between us. We need to plan the future.’

‘But we have no future...’

She looked so appalled at the thought of any more time spent with him. She would even refute the flames that burned between them if she could. It was there in the darkness that clouded her eyes, the way she was fighting to deny there was anything between them.

‘You think?’

Their eyes clashed, held for a moment. Hers were the first to drop as she recognised the unyielding challenge in his.

‘What terms?’ she asked.

So much of the attack had gone out of her voice, leaving it weakened and deflated. Was it possible that she suspected what was coming? A dark wave of satisfaction flooded through his veins.

‘I will be king—on the same conditions as it would have been for Ivan to take the throne.’

It took a moment for her to register just what he had said, several more to have the words sink in and the meaning behind the flat statement become real. He watched every change of emotion spill across her face, the way that it tightened the muscles around her mouth and jaw, made her elegant throat contract on a hard swallow. One that he felt echo in his own throat as he fought the urge to press his lips to the pale skin of her neck and follow the movement down.

‘But those conditions were only for Ivan...’ Ria stammered.

She still hadn’t quite realised just what he was talking about. Either that or she didn’t want to accept that he could actually mean it.

‘It’s that or nothing. And I wish you joy being Ivan’s wife.’

‘And the country?’ She’d found some new strength from somewhere, enough to challenge him. ‘Are you prepared for the civil unrest that will follow if you walk away now?’

That caught him up sharp. Took him back to the darkness of the night where his memories of his father’s dying words had forced him to face the prospect of a future in which the repercussions of his decisions, his actions, reverberated out into the coming days and years with the possibility of guilt and the dreadful responsibility of the wrong choices made in anger. He’d been there once before and it was a hell he had no wish to return to. He’d let someone—not just anyone, he’d let
Belle—
down because of that anger once and even after years the stab of memory, of guilt, was brutal. Was he going to do it again? Let down a whole nation? Thousands of families—hundreds of Belles?

He’d be letting down his father too if he let Ivan take over the throne, ignoring the warning Mikail had given him.

If he stayed angry, that was always the risk. But this, this was a decision he had made in cold blood. To defeat Ivan. And her father. And to have Ria at his side as his queen and in his bed.

‘There is one way to ensure that doesn’t happen. And to keep Ivan from the crown at the same time. Believe me, I feel the same as you do at the thought of him ruling Mecjoria.’

She should have expected this, Ria told herself. She knew how much he and Ivan had loathed each other back in the days when they had all lived at the court when the old king had been alive. She should have remembered how the other man had sneered at everything Alexei did, and had made appallingly insulting remarks about his mother—the commoner who had dared to think that she could become a member of the royal family.

A few moments before she had been afraid of the direction in which his thoughts seemed to be heading, but this... Was it possible that he meant that they could work together on this? The thought of doing something with Alexei rather than fighting him for everything made her heart twist on a little judder of excitement. She had hoped to have her friend Alexei back in her life. She had never dreamed it might actually happen.

But did her friend Alexei still exist? Did she want him to? That friend had never made her feel this way. This very adult, very female, very sexual way.

‘Exactly what terms are you talking about?’ Deep down, she feared she knew but she couldn’t believe it.

‘I told you. I will accept the throne on the same conditions as would have applied if Ivan was to inherit. The ones your father agreed—and it seems you were prepared to go along with.’

Ria’s head went back, her eyes widening. The ice-blooded statement slammed into her mind with the force of a lightning bolt, making her head spin sickeningly. It was like reliving the moment she had found the signed agreement amongst her father’s papers, but somehow worse. She had always known her father was an arch manipulator—but Alexei? She’d gone to him with such hope, but now it seemed that she was trapped even more than before. And her own impulsive declaration of just moments before had just entangled her further in this dark spider’s web.

‘Marriage.’ It was dull and flat, the death knell to the hopes she had only just allowed to creep into her mind. ‘The terms of that agreement were marriage.’

He didn’t respond; didn’t even incline his head in any indication of agreement. Just blinked hard, once, and then those black, black eyes were fixed on her face, as unmoving and unyielding as the rest of him.

‘You want me to
marry
you?’ The words tasted like poison on her tongue. ‘Just like that? I won’t—I can’t!’

‘Not what you’d hoped for?’ he enquired sardonically, the corners of his mouth curling into a cynical trace of a smile. ‘The prospect doesn’t appeal as much as being married to Ivan?’

‘It doesn’t appeal at all.’

The truth was that it was far worse.

She had never had any feeling except of fear and dislike for Ivan. Hadn’t once loved him. Had never dreamed of the prospect of a future with him. Hadn’t let herself imagine the possibility of loving and being loved by him as she had once dreamed of happening with Alexei.

So now to be proposed to... No, not proposed to—
propositioned—
so coldly, so heartlessly by him tore at her heart until she thought it must be bleeding to death inside.

She didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t bear to look into his face, and yet she found that she could look nowhere else. Those deep, dark eyes seemed to draw her in; the sculpted beauty of his mouth was a sensual temptation that she fought to resist. Once she’d dreamed of being kissed by those lips. Lying awake in her adolescent bed, she had imagined how it would feel, longed for it to be reality. Last night that dream had come true. She knew now how that mouth kissed, knew how it tasted, and the reality had been as sensually wonderful as she had hoped. It had left her with a hunger to feel those sensual lips on all the other, more intimate parts of her body. But all the time it had been tainted with a poison that threatened to destroy her emotionally.

And once she had dreamed of a marriage proposal from those lips too. But not like this.

‘You can’t really believe this is possible.’

‘Why not? You’ve already admitted that neither of us wants Ivan on the throne—but if we made a pact to work together we could ensure that never happens, ensure peace for Mecjoria. You say I am the rightful king—you would make a good queen. After all, that was what your father trained you for.’

‘I brought you that document because you are the rightful king!’

‘And because you didn’t want to marry Ivan.’

How could she deny that when it was nothing but the truth?

‘My father had delusions of grandeur.’ She tried to focus on his face but his powerful features blurred before her eyes. ‘That’s not the same as tying myself to someone I barely know.’

‘You would have agreed to just this with Ivan.’ Alexei pushed the point home. ‘You said yourself that the royal family doesn’t expect to marry for love.’

No, but they could dream of it—and she had dreamed... Dreams that were now crashing in pieces around her.

‘You’d simply be exchanging one political marriage for another. What if I promise your father’s freedom too?’

‘You’d do that?’ It was something she’d thought she’d have to give up on, no matter how much her mother had begged her to plead for Gregor’s release.

‘For you as my queen—yes, I’d do it. Oh, I don’t expect a wedding right here and now—or even one as soon as we land. I have the proclamation—the accession—to deal with first.’

He actually sounded as if he thought that he was making some huge concession. The truth was that in his mind, he
was
making that concession, obviously. He would give her a breathing space—a short, barely tolerable breathing space. But the ruthless, cold determination stamped on his face told her that was all she would get. And it would be only the barest minimum of time that he would allow her.

‘Well, that’s a relief!’ Shock and horror made her voice rigid and cold as she fought against showing the real depth of her feelings. Her shoulders were so tight that they hurt and her mouth ached with the control she was imposing on it. ‘Do you expect me to thank you?’

‘No more than you should expect me to thank you for cooperating in this.’

‘I haven’t said yet that I will cooperate!’

‘But you will.’ It was coldly, cruelly confident. No room for argument or doubt. ‘And you have to admit that we have far more between us than you would ever have had with Ivan.’

‘I— No!’

She didn’t know how she had managed to sit still so long. She only knew that she couldn’t do it now. She pushed herself to her feet, up and away from him. From his oppressive closeness, the dangerous warmth of his hard, lean frame, the disturbing scent of his skin that tantalised her senses. She wanted to go further—so much further—but in the cabin there wasn’t enough space to run and hide. And at the same time her need to get away warred with a sensual compulsion to turn back into his atmosphere, to throw herself close against him and recapture that wild enticement that had swamped her totally on the previous night.

‘Sit down!’

It was pure command, harsh and autocratic, flung at her so hard that she almost felt the words hit her in the back.

It took all her control to turn and face him, bringing her chin up in defiance so as not to let him see the turmoil she was feeling.

‘What’s this then, Alexei? Practising for when you’re king?’

His scowl was dark and dangerous, making her shift uncomfortably where she stood, the movement aggravated by the lurch of the aircraft so that she almost lost her footing. Stubbornly she refused to reach out and grab the back of the nearest seat for support, however much she needed it.

‘According to you, I will need all the practice I can get,’ he shot back, the ice in his tone taking the temperature in the cabin down ten degrees or more. ‘A commoner jumped up from the gutter, with no true nobility to speak of.’

‘That was Ivan, not me!’ Ria protested.

‘Ivan—your prospective husband.’

She knew he was watching for her instinctive shudder but all the same she couldn’t hold it back in spite of knowing how much she was giving away.

‘But there is some truth in there—so there’s another reason why this marriage will work out,’ Alexei continued coldly. ‘I can give you the status and the fortune you want...’

Ria opened her mouth in a rush, needing to tell him that she didn’t want either. But a swift, brutal glare stopped her mid-breath.

‘And you—well you can be the civilising influence I need. You can teach me how to handle the court procedures—the etiquette I’ll need to function as king.’

He almost sounded as if he meant it. Was it possible? Could he really be feeling a touch of insecurity here—and being prepared to admit to it? There was no way it seemed possible. But that twist to his mouth tugged on something deep inside her.

‘But you grew up at court—for some years at least. You must have learned...’

‘The basics, perhaps. But most of it I have forgotten. I didn’t exactly see any use for it in the life I’m living now. And, as your father was so determined to point out, I was never really civilised.’ The bite of acid in the words seemed to sear into Ria’s skin, making her rub her hands down her arms to ease the burning sensation. ‘Not quite blue-blooded enough.’

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll remember it quickly—without any help from me.’

‘Ah, but I’m sure I’ll pick it up faster with you at my side—as my partner and consort. My wife.’

‘I won’t do it.’ She shook her head violently, sending her hair flying around her face.

Another lurch of the plane, more violent this time, made her stumble. She almost expected to hear the sound of shattering dreams falling to the floor as the movement coincided with the loss of all those hopes she had once had for the word ‘wife’ coming from this man.

‘You can’t make me.’

‘I won’t have to. You’ve done it to yourself already.’

As Ria watched in stunned disbelief, Alexei seemed to change mood completely, subsiding into his seat again and relaxing back against the soft, buttery leather.

‘Let’s see now—where shall I begin? Ah yes—the eruminium mines.’

She knew then what was coming, acknowledging an aching sense of despair as she watched him lift one long-fingered hand and tick off his points across it one by one. All the arguments she had ever brought to bear on the subject of his possible accession to the throne, all the reasons she had given why he had to take the crown, to prevent Ivan doing so, to protect the country and to avoid civil unrest. They were now all repeated but turned upside down, twisted back against her, landing sharp as poisoned darts in her bruised soul. Alexei used them to provide evidence of the fact that she had no choice. That she had to do as he demanded or prove herself a liar and a traitor to everything she had held dear.

And break her mother’s heart and health—possibly her mind too—if she left her father mouldering in his prison cell, as she had feared she was going to do when she had failed to bring Alexei back with her.

She had no choice. Or, rather, she did have a choice but it was between being trapped into this marriage and honouring the contract her father had made with Ivan. An arranged marriage to a man she loathed and feared. A man who made her skin crawl. Or a cold-blooded union to Alexei who would give her a marriage without love. A marriage with no heart. A marriage of shattered dreams.