The Prince's Bride (27 page)

“Convenient?”

“Indeed. If even half of that drivel you told me is true, and I really didn’t believe a word of it, have you stopped to consider what might happen should your husband decide to take his rightful place as a prince of Avalonia?”

“What do you mean?” An entirely new kind of fear touched her.

“Princes have an obligation when it comes to marriage. They marry for political alliances, for the security of their country. You are quite lovely, and I daresay any man would be happy to have you in his bed, but you are not a suitable wife for a prince. Should he choose to accept his heritage, you would be rather... inconvenient.”

“He loves me,” she said without thinking.

“Love is relative.” He shook his head bitterly. “As I well know.” He gestured with the pistol. “Now then, if you please.”

She walked slowly toward the passageway, trying to think of something, anything to keep her here. She racked her brains but her skills were limited to flirtatious banter and the fluttering of fans and other talents well-bred young ladies practiced. What did a well-bred young lady do when her life was threatened by a madman? Most probably couldn’t take so much as a single step. Most would be hysterical and no doubt swoon at the very sight of a pistol.

And if nothing else, Jocelyn Shelton was well bred.

She raised her hand to her throat, widening her eyes and staring at Borloff. “I...” Her step faltered. “I feel so... so...”

“What?” His brows drew together in annoyance.

“I don’t know...” She gasped and closed her eyes and prayed he’d believe her, then crumpled to the floor in her best imitation of a dead faint and tried not to wince when she hit the marble surface. If that thud didn’t convince him, nothing would.

“Princess,” he snapped.

She’d managed to fall on her side, with her arm half covering her face, shielding her eyes.

“Get up or I will shoot you where you lie.” Borloff’s voice rang hard and cold in the room.

She willed herself not to move a muscle. Her heart thudded in her ears. If he did shoot, she prayed death would be swift, and not too painful. With luck he’d simply leave without her.

Instead she heard his footsteps approach.

She opened her eyes the barest slit, just enough to see his black boots pause beside her. He nudged her with his foot.

“I will shoot,” he warned and nudged her again, hard. She bit her lip to restrain any response.

She braced herself for the inevitable and waited for an endless moment. At last Borloff heaved a sigh and swore under his breath.

“Get up,” he ordered, punctuating his words with more of a kick than a nudge and she couldn’t hold back a groan. She had to do something. Anything. If she was going to die, she’d rather meet her end with the courage befitting, well, a true princess. Without a second thought, she grabbed his ankle and pulled with all her might.

It seemed as if she were in a dream, as if time itself slowed and a heartbeat lasted forever. She looked up at Borloff’s startled face. He fell backward, his arms flailing, the pistol flying free to skid across the floor and into the passageway. He hit the floor with a solid thump followed by a crack when his head smacked onto the marble tile.

She scrambled to her feet and stared down at him in horror. For a moment hoping she hadn’t killed him. For a moment hoping she had.

Unrelenting panic gripped her. She had to get out of here. Now. There were only two ways of escape and she wasn’t going into that dark, forbidding tunnel. The key to the door was in Borloff’s waistcoat pocket.

She drew a deep breath, bent over him, and quickly slid her hand into the pocket. She found the key and pulled it out.

His hand gripped her wrist.

Her heart stopped. Borloff’s eyes opened and trapped hers. “I think not, Princess.”

“Let me go!” Terror flooded through her. She struggled against an iron grip. He reached for her with his free hand. And she did what any well-bred young lady would do.

She sank her teeth into his hand.

He screamed and she wrenched away, scrambling across the room and into the passageway. She stumbled through the opening and spied a lever beside the door. She grabbed it and pulled with everything she had. Across the room Borloff got to his feet and started after her. The door swung closed and his muffled cry of outrage sounded from the other side. A large bolt was affixed to the wall and she put her full weight behind it and shoved, sliding it into place.

Jocelyn rested her forehead against the door and tried to catch her breath. She’d never, even in her darkest nightmares, been so scared. Pounding sounded from the other side and she jumped back. She could hear Borloff’s outrage, barely audible behind the thick wall. At least she was safe for the moment. And Borloff was trapped. She still had the key.

She brushed her hair out of her eyes and realized she’d lost her glasses sometime during the struggle. Not that it mattered. There was no light beyond the circle of brightness cast by the wall torch.

She spotted the pistol and carefully picked it up. It was probably loaded, and she knew nothing about guns. She gingerly gripped it and pointed it away from her. She’d hate to accidentally shoot herself. Pity, Rand had chosen to teach her archery instead of shooting. Now
that
was a skill that could come in handy.

Had Rand arrived at the palace? Was he even now searching for her? Worrying about her? And would he find her in time? Before... She brushed away farfetched thoughts of what could happen to her. The danger was still all too real. It was entirely possible Borloff knew of another entry from the room she’d locked him in and could come after her. And who knew how long it would take Rand, or anyone else, to look in this part of the palace.

Without warning the door shook. Fear again caught at her but the bolt held. She snatched the torch from its holder and hurried down the dark, cavelike walkway, resisting the urge to run and give in to the panic that still simmered beneath raw nerves. She had a torch, she had a pistol, and she would find her way out. She would not give up.

And she brushed aside the nagging thought that she could be every bit as trapped as Borloff.

Rand didn’t like any of this at all.

Not the armed contingent that greeted them at the border claiming to be an escort provided for their “safety.” Not the long, impressive palace gallery he stalked through now, flanked by Thomas on one side and Richard on the other. Not the heavy weight that had taken up permanent residence in the pit of his stomach nearly three weeks ago, a weight prompted by fear, worry, and a frustrating helplessness.

If he’d decided nothing else on their long journey, he’d decided he would do whatever he had to do to get Jocelyn back. Whatever Alexei wanted of him, he would do. Whatever Jocelyn wanted, she could have. Nothing was too much to ask.

She was in his thoughts every hour, every moment. He was certain she was safe, confident Alexei wouldn’t harm her, and confident as well that she hadn’t left him of her own free will.

He trusted her. He loved her. And if, in those last moments before sleep claimed him at some flea-ridden inn or, more often than not, on the hard ground, a tiny doubt nagged at him that perhaps he was wrong, he ignored it.

Footmen in powdered wigs and formal livery flanked the ornate doors at the end of the corridor, opening them as they approached with timing so perfect, Rand and the others didn’t break stride. He stalked into what appeared to be a grand receiving chamber. A large gathering of ladies and gentlemen, members of Alexei’s court, no doubt, parted before them, leaving a clear path to the end of room. A quick glance confirmed Jocelyn was not among the group.

Alexei stood beside an ornate, gilded table speaking with a handful of men. He paused at Rand’s approach and turned toward him with a steady, assessing gaze.

“Welcome, cousin,” Alexei said mildly.

“Where is she?” Rand’s voice was curt.

Alexei’s manner was cool, regal. “I do hope your journey was not unpleasant?”

“It was delightful. Thank you for providing me with the opportunity to travel.” Rand’s eyes narrowed. “Now where is my wife?”

“She should be here momentarily.” Alexei’s gaze locked with Rand’s. “We have a great deal to talk about, cousin.”

“Indeed we do. But first—”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Alexei waved away his comment. “And frankly I do not wish to begin our discussion without her. She has become an integral part of all this.”

“Has she?” Rand narrowed his eyes and pushed aside thoughts of exactly what Alexei meant.

“Do not glare at me like that, cousin.” Alexei huffed a short sigh. “She has come to no harm. Neither has she betrayed you in any way. And while she did not accompany me of her own accord”—an unexpected sense of relief rushed through Rand—“she well understands my reasons for luring you here.”

“Does she?” Rand said slowly.

“She does indeed.” Alexei shook his head. “I will confess I am not in the habit of confiding in women, nor, overall, do I especially trust them. Particularly clever women. However, I have found in your wife both a courageous spirit and a perceptive wisdom.”

“Jocelyn?” Thomas said under his breath to Richard.

Richard shrugged.

“You are a lucky man, cousin.” Alexei’s gaze was unyielding. “And I envy you. And should you decide, for whatever reason, your marriage is not to your liking, there will always be a place for your wife here as my cousin and my friend should she so choose.”

Rand clenched his fists by his side, his tone as firm as the prince’s. “My wife’s place is with me. Always.”

“Excellent.” Alexei smiled with satisfaction. “Now where is the blasted woman?” He glanced around the room. “She’s been counting the minutes until your arrival. I must say, we did expect you before now. Odd that she isn’t here yet.”

“Your Highness.” A short, attractive lady approached and curtsied. “The princess met Count Borloff in the hall and went with him, I believe toward the older section of the palace. I was but a few steps behind her and I heard him say he’d been sent by you to escort her to a place where she could greet her husband”—the lady cast a shy smile at Rand—“in private.”

Alexei frowned and shook his head. “I did nothing of the sort.”

“Did you say Borloff?” Rand turned to the woman. She nodded. His stomach twisted and he looked at Alexei. “Borloff is your traitor. The man he was working with in London, Strizich, was caught and told us everything. That’s what delayed my arrival. I was informed of his capture the morning we planned to leave and felt it imperative to talk to him myself.”

“Borloff?” Disbelief and shock washed across Alexei’s face.

“Strizich told us Borloff was operating under the orders of the Princess Valentina.” He looked at Alexei. “Exactly as you thought.”

“Valentina’s involvement comes as no surprise, however, this gives me the proof I need to deal with her. But the count...” Alexei drew a deep breath and shook his head. “I have known him most of my life and I trusted him implicitly. Indeed, I considered him”—he uttered a short, mirthless laugh—“a friend.”

“Your Highness.” A page stepped forward, a worried look on his face. “Count Borloff requested I deliver this to you when your cousin arrived. I thought it unusual but...” He shook his head helplessly and handed the prince a sealed note.

Alexei tore it open and scanned it quickly, then glanced up to meet Rand’s gaze. “Valentina has left the country and Borloff demands safe passage to the border. If he is interfered with in any way he threatens—”

“What?” Rand said sharply, already knowing the answer.

“To kill your wife,” Alexei said simply.

“Kidnapped? Again?” Richard said in disbelief.

“That will make her peevish,” Thomas murmured.

“If not dead,” Rand snapped.

“Captain.” Alexei addressed a uniformed officer of the guard. “Station some of your men outside the palace and have as many others as possible scour the north wing. Search every room, particularly those that are not in use. Keep in mind most of those chambers are connected to one another by doors hidden in the panels. We may be able to catch them before they leave the palace itself. Once they are outside, it will be impossible to approach Borloff without notice. You and the rest will come with me.”

He looked at Rand. “The palace has been built and rebuilt over and over again. The rooms are not only connected to one another but the ancient part of the building is riddled with secret entrances to a passageway that leads to a tunnel and an exit into the woods. It is the only way to escape the palace undetected. Fortunately, while one can move from room to room without entering the hall, there are only a dozen or so entrances to the passageway. And only a handful of people who know where these are, including myself.”

“And Borloff?” Rand asked.

Alexei nodded and blew a long breath. “I never suspected...”

Rand started toward the door. “Let’s go then.”

“Rand.” Alexei caught his arm and met his gaze. “I cannot permit Borloff to reach the border. Do you understand? I cannot allow him to escape.”

“Regardless of the cost?” Rand’s gaze bored into his cousin’s and he read resolve and genuine regret in his eyes. At once he understood he and Alexei were more alike than he’d ever suspected. Each would do what had to be done for the sake of his country. No matter the personal sacrifice or how great the price.

A price Rand would not pay without a fight.

He grasped Alexei’s hand, his voice as unyielding as any prince’s.

“Then we shall make certain it does not come to that.”