My Ruthless Prince (18 page)

"Very well. I can't think of anything at this very moment, but let me give it some thought, and as soon as I come up with something, I'll let you know."

"You promise?"

"Yes," he answered firmly.

"You'd better not forget about me," she warned.

He scoffed. "What man in his right mind could?"

"Yes, but this is you we're talking about, my dear lunatic."

"Right," he murmured, as they both began to laugh quietly. "Come here, you, cheeky." He pulled her into his arms and hugged her, still chuckling.

As Emily hugged him back, he couldn't remember the last time anyone had made him laugh.

"God bless you," he whispered, grateful to his very soul for the much-needed moment of levity. He gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I continue to doubt that there's a man worthy of you on this planet, you know."

"Well, there's one," she confided, then she pulled him down and kissed him.

Drake returned her kiss, pulling her into his arms. In the moment, as her satin lips caressed his with captivating warmth, he thrilled to her affection; at the same time, in the back of his mind, it dawned on him that she was an utterly amazing human being.

He couldn't believe she had followed him.

He couldn't believe anyone would ever love him so much. Throughout his life, people--usually other Order agents--had expressed being in awe of him, but now it was his turn. He was in awe of
her
, and it was his turn to feel humbled.

Emily ended their kiss, pulling back with a serene smile and a dreamy glow in her eyes. He could do nothing but stare breathlessly at her, feeling as though he were seeing her for the first time.

"Are you inspired yet with some way I can help?" she murmured.

A sudden, soft laugh escaped him. She was persistent, to be sure. "
That
helped tremendously. Perhaps another?"

"Drake," she chided.

He shook off the daze of pleasure she had left him in and ruefully brought himself back to the task at hand. "My main concern is that you're going to have to lie like you've never lied in your life. You can't let them see you're afraid or that you know what they have planned. Just play the oblivious female. That will help us avoid complications."

She eyed him dubiously. "Like those girls your mother wanted you to marry?"

He flashed an unexpected smile. "Exactly."

"How much time do we have before this ritual?"

"Ten days."

She winced. "Well, at least, it'll be over soon."

"It might not hurt if you could try to befriend your guards a bit in the meanwhile."

She nodded. "Good idea. I can see how that could be useful. I shall soon have them eating out of my hand!" she murmured with a crafty smile.

"Well, you don't have to go and make me jealous," he retorted playfully. "Honestly, though, do not be too obvious, or they'll wonder what you're up to. Just a sprinkle of your eccentric charm will go a long way, believe me."

She propped her fists on her waist. "Eccentric?"

"Hmm? What? I didn't hear anything."

Her response was a playful tap on his chest, the lightest of smacks. "At least I'm not a lunatic."

"I'm beginning to think you are," he whispered with a smile. Then he glanced at his fob watch. "They're going to order me out of here in a moment or two. Are you going to be all right?"

"I will, now. But first, there's something you should know." She glanced past him, keeping her voice down. "I didn't want to tell you this before, because I wasn't sure if you were one of them or not, but I wrote to your friend, Lord Rotherstone, from Munich, after I had followed you to the castle. I told him where you were."

"Did you?" he asked in surprise.

She nodded. "If they got the message, I should think they're likely on their way by now."

Drake absorbed this news with mixed emotions.

"That could be good for us, couldn't it?" she urged. "We could use more help."

"As long as they don't get caught, yes," he murmured. "But you do realize they have orders to kill me. Why would you tell them where I was?"

She gave an innocent shrug. "I was afraid when I finally caught up to you, I might find out I had got in over my head."

He gave her a wry look. "I am shocked to hear you admit such a thing is possible."

"Look who's talking." She chucked him lightly under the chin while her eyes sparkled with a sly twinkle. "You're the one who thinks he's indestructible."

He shrugged.

"Well, it's hard to say this, Drake, but if you had betrayed everything you once believed in, I realized . . . you were going to have to be stopped. And I knew I wouldn't be able to do it." She shook her head.

"You'd have been willing to have me killed for the sake of the Order?"

"I'm sorry. Is that wrong?" she whispered. "You believed in it all your life. I couldn't let you--"

He stopped her with another kiss. "Virgil should have recruited both of us," he answered very softly. "I can't think of anything finer or more noble that you could say to me."

She searched his eyes. "I prayed it wouldn't come to that."

"And it won't," he promised. "Thank you."

She stroked his hair, soothing tensions in him that he had barely noticed collecting. "We'll just have to figure out some way to let them know once they get here that you are still one of them."

He nodded wryly. "In the meanwhile, you should forget that I am. As far as you know, I'm a nasty Promethean convert, remember?"

"Right," she murmured, smiling at his warning. "Got it."

"Good." He took both her hands in his. It seemed so natural to be open with her that he could not imagine now why it had been so desperately important to him at first to shut her out. "We're going to make it through this, all right? I won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Drake. You never have."

"I think I have," he said wistfully. "I should have married you a long time ago."

She fell silent, holding his gaze.

The guards banged on the door at that moment, calling to him that the fifteen minutes was over. Drake glanced angrily over his shoulder, then looked at Emily again.

"I'll find a way for us to talk again soon," he murmured. "I'll speak to James, too, about letting you go outside. It's ridiculous for you to be locked up in here every day. You're not going to run away."

"Not as long as you're here."

He kissed her cheek. "I'll see what I can do. Are you going to be all right?"

She gave a firm nod, though she still held on to his hand. "Feeling braver already."

He smiled, mystified. "You really are a miracle, Emily."

"The miracle will be when we both get out of here safely. Promise me you'll be careful." She still wouldn't let go of his hand. "I know you're in pain, Drake, and that you don't really believe you'll ever be all right again, but once we've dealt with them, then we can be together, and I promise you, with all my heart, I'll help you find your way back to the sunlight. You
will
be whole and happy again, as you once were. You will find healing, all right? So, don't give up. You just need time and tender loving care, and I'll be with you every step of the way to make sure you get both."

He stared at her, wanting to believe, despite the edge of uneasiness her tender words aroused. He managed a nod and slid his hand from hers. "I'd better go."

"Be careful," she breathed, as he withdrew and walked toward the door.

"You, too. Stay strong, girl."

"I will. And Drake? Thank you for trusting me at last."

"No, Emily, thank you. For everything. Especially for not losing faith in me," he answered in a low tone that the guards would not hear.

"I never will."

He reached for the door handle.

"Um, Drake?"

He paused, glancing back in question.

Emily folded her arms across her chest with an irresistible, teasing smile. "I heard them force you into admitting you love me."

"Hmm," he said, rather on guard. "You heard that?"

She nodded, regarding him in amusement.

He looked at her for a long moment. "What makes you think they forced me?"

The joy that broke across her face was like the sun bursting out from behind the cold, formidable mountains.

Her smile beamed: He sent her a wink from the doorway, then he went out and closed the door behind him.

Her guards eyed him with a certain degree of suspicion when he stepped out into the hallway. No doubt they had never seen that expression on his face. How could they? What he felt just then hadn't been in his heart for two years.

Hope.

Still, he jerked his thumb sternly over his shoulder. "Watch her," he ordered in a dark tone.

"Yes, sir," they said, reassured again that he was still the hard bastard they all feared.

But when his back was to them as he walked off down the hallway, he couldn't chase the daft smile off his face.

France

Rotherstone's team had reached the thick forests of the Argonne, in the Champagne region of France, and there they made camp for the night. The nearby brook babbled in the darkness; the tethered horses drank and grazed around it, while the low bonfire crackled.

From across the flames, Max regarded his two fellow agents, each of them sitting on his bedroll unfurled on the forest floor. None of them had much to say.

Virgil was haunting all of them these days.

Leaning on his soft leather saddlebags, Max turned around to put the map away, having already familiarized himself with the next day's route.

So far, they had been making excellent time over the mostly flat ground, but that would change, given the extremely rugged terrain ahead.

From Calais, they had swept across the north of France, the Belgian-style windmills they passed reminding them that they were but a stone's throw from the Flemish border--and the fields of Waterloo. Max remembered that grim triumph all too well, but he did not linger over the memory, focused on leading his team onward to catch up with Drake at the castle in the Alps.

Passing to the north of Reims, they kept to the countryside, since, after all, they were Englishmen. The war was over, but grudges lived on in pockets of both countries here and there. They could not afford delays in needless conflict with the locals.

Tomorrow they would gain the oft-disputed territory of Alsace-Lorraine. It would probably take another three days to reach the next major landmark on their journey: the city of Strasbourg on the eastern edge of France. From there, it was upward into the Alps, a hundred miles over the mighty mountains to Stuttgart, then a trek south, to Augsburg and, at last, to Munich.

Then they would find this Waldfort Castle.

What they might encounter when they got there was anybody's guess. Studying his two teammates with a shrewd, assessing eye, Max mused that they'd have to be ready for anything. He had a feeling there was going to be one hell of a battle once they reached the German stronghold where the Prometheans had gathered.

Their barely mentioned grief over Virgil wasn't helping. None of them quite knew what to do with themselves since they had found their beloved Highlander murdered by his own son. Every one of them felt guilty, but it was too late now. Max hated himself for the anger that he felt toward Virgil, but damn it, the old man should have known better than to trust that son of a bitch.

He let out a sigh, missing Daphne's arms around him. She had a way about her that helped to calm him down.

All three men had sent their wives together to one of the Order's secure estates, just in case Drake had started giving up their names. That seemed unlikely, for if he hadn't done it so far, why would he start?

Still, none of them were willing to take any chances with the safety of the women who were everything to them. They hadn't told the wives, either, how serious the danger was this time. They'd explain the situation later.

If there was a later, Max thought dryly. In truth, Virgil's death made failure seem possible in a way that it never had before, for if the old Highlander, with all his decades of training and experience, could make a mistake that had cost him his life, it brought home the point that any of them could.

For that matter, Max couldn't begin to think how he was supposed to pull the trigger on his boyhood friend. He would never forgive himself for letting Drake escape. But how he could have anticipated that Drake would grab that poor, sweet Emily girl and use her as a hostage?

Ah, it was a bad business.

Then, as much as he wanted to lose himself in private daydreams of his bride, another weary glance across the fire at his friends reminded him that they were in as bad shape as he was over Virgil's death.

As team leader, it was up to him to boost morale.

The fire crackled, sending up a plume of sparks and a spiral of rising smoke. An owl hooted from somewhere in the surrounding black trees. Max sat up and casually rested his elbow across his bent left knee.