Her Every Pleasure (17 page)

“Good. Anything I can answer for you?”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “We hadn’t got round to much discussion on who might be behind the plot against her.”

“Yes, that is the great question,” the marquess said grimly.

“Not to me,” Sophia muttered as she took a seat on the chair nearby.

Gabriel eyed her askance, then looked at his kinsman again. “From what Her Highness has told me about the way her country changed hands during the war, it sounds like several different parties might stand to gain from it. Whom do you suspect? This Ali Pasha fellow, or someone else? The Austrians? The Czar? Or perhaps the French?”

Lord Griffith shook his head. “None of the above. All of them are our allies now. Even France appears innocent in all of this. They’re still trying to recover from Napoleon.”

Gabriel braced his hands on his waist. “But Russia’s always keen to gain a southern shipping port.”

“Czar Alexander is a friend to England. And as for the Austrians, well, during the war, the Habsburgs tried to get away with staking an ancient claim on Kavros by way of their old Venetian holdings. But in peacetime, it’s hard to fathom they would take the chance. To attempt such a thing would be seen as a slap in the face to England. Everyone’s so damned tired of war, to be honest with you. Coffers are low, the armies are spent. Half the regiments have been disbanded across Europe and the soldiers sent home to their families. To risk another start at all that…” He shook his head wearily.

Gabriel frowned. “Just to be clear, there’s no remote chance that this was a mere criminal act? For the sake of argument, some country roads are known for being plagued by gangs of highwaymen—”

“No.” Lord Griffith was shaking his head.

Sophia stood up again. “I’ll tell you who I think it was, Major. Your dear kinsman doesn’t want to listen to me, but as I mentioned earlier, I would bet my bonnet it was Ali Pasha.”

“And who is he, exactly?”

“Your Highness,” Lord Griffith said with a long-suffering sigh.

The marquess smiled patiently at Gabriel, as though begging his pardon for her silly female notions. Sophia went and picked up the wooden pointer again.

“Ali Pasha—they call him the Terrible Turk. The Albanian tyrant rules all this territory from his capital at Janina.” With an angry, sweeping motion, she indicated the Balkan Peninsula right across from the Kavros island chain, the westernmost reach of the Ottoman Empire on the Mediterranean’s northern shore.

Gabriel cocked a brow at her. “Why do you suspect him?”

“Ali Pasha has long been the scourge of the Greek peoples. What few parts of Greece remained free from Ottoman rule, Ali Pasha has done his best to capture them and take them for his own. Every time he presses out his boundaries again, he chases the Greek nobles like my Leon out of their homes. He takes the land their families have held since Homer’s day and gives it to his captains.

Many of the Greek nobles have fled into the mountains, where they are forced to live as brigands, raiding the Muslim troops, and fighting as best they can for their freedom. When Ali Pasha captures any of them, he orders horrible public executions to make examples of them. The man is a monster.”

“Now, now, Your Highness. We have been over this a hundred times before,” Lord Griffith interjected in a smooth tone tinged with worldly male condescension. He glanced at Gabriel. “While Her Highness’s theory is certainly plausible, England has just established a new treaty with Ali Pasha. The naval base at Kavros has brought us into close proximity with the unpleasant fellow. To avoid trouble, both parties have agreed to a pact of mutual nonaggression.”

“You’re thinking like an Englishman again, my dear marquess,” Sophia informed him, growing impatient. “Ali Pasha laughs at promises he makes to infidels. He is playing games with you! He would say anything to further his own interests. Let his past deeds speak for him, not his lies. Ali Pasha has been gobbling up more territory ever since he first came to power decades ago. Why should any of us be naïve enough to hope he’d be content to stop now, just because he’s reached the water’s edge?”

“Your Highness, however brutal this petty chieftain might be, he’s not fool enough to challenge the might of the British Navy. I agree with you—Ali Pasha is a violent cretin. But he still has to answer to his overlord, Sultan Mahmud. Trust me, the Ottoman sultans never hesitate to remove from power any of their local rulers who refuse to comply with the Empire’s policies.”

“What if she’s right?” Gabriel asked him.

“What are we to do?” Lord Griffith countered. “Even if Ali Pasha
does
by some remote chance have designs on Kavros, Sultan Mahmud is responsible for reining him in. We cannot interfere.”

Sophia let out a strangled sound of fury. “Lord Griffith and his fellows are just afraid of stepping on the Sultan’s toes!”

Gabriel nodded. “With good reason. The Ottoman Empire does not take kindly to insult,” he remarked. He folded his arms across his chest and stroked his jaw in thought. “If we had proof of Ali Pasha’s interference, it would be one thing, but if we were to go making unfounded accusations about one of the Sultan’s most powerful vassals, then the Muslim powers all the way from Egypt could cause innumerable headaches for our overland trade route with India.”

She threw up her hands. “Why must it always come down to filthy lucre?”

“I assure you, Your Highness, it isn’t a matter of greed, but of England’s security,” the diplomat countered. “The flow of goods and gold from our trade with India is essential in keeping England strong against our much larger rivals on the Continent.”

Frowning, Gabriel glanced from Sophia to Lord Griffith. “Surely something can be done?”

“I have summoned the Turkish ambassador from London,” his brother-in-law informed him. “As soon as he gets here, I intend to meet with him and make our concerns known.” Lord Griffith glanced at Sophia again. “It must be handled delicately, but rest assured, I will relay to Your Highness whatever I’m able to learn. In the meantime, we can only crave your patience. We need more time to continue gathering intelligence. My colleagues in the diplomatic corps are using every channel at our disposal to find out who was behind the attack on your party. Until we have anything solid, it won’t do to start jumping to hasty conclusions. In the meantime, we will do everything in our power to keep you safe.”

“I take it that’s where I come in,” Gabriel said sardonically.

They both looked at him.

Sophia smiled in rich satisfaction. “The major has agreed to accept his new commission, my lord.”

“Excellent! I will have the papers drawn up presently.”

“Thank you.” Gabriel nodded to his kinsman.

The marquess paused with an inquiring glance from one to the other. Discreet curiosity flicked across his patrician face. “So, it’s true, then—you two were, er, previously acquainted?”

They exchanged a guarded glance, then both nodded cautiously.

“I see,” he murmured with an intrigued look. “Someday you’ll have to tell me all about it.”

“Oh, probably not, old boy,” Gabriel answered in a cheeky drawl.

Sophia let out a nervous laugh but quickly stifled it, pressing her fingers to her lips.

Lord Griffith lifted his eyebrows. “Ah.”

Gabriel sent her a wry glance, his blue eyes dancing.

Sophia grinned and shook her head at him, but the matter was decided. The story of how they had met would remain their little secret.

At least they could have that.

CHAPTER
         NINE         

S
ophia had informed him they’d be leaving for her homeland in a fortnight, but the first order of business was the grand, themed ball that the smitten Prince Regent was giving in her honor at the castle in three days’ time as a charitable fund-raiser for the people of Kavros.

Four hundred of London’s richest and most powerful citizens from the highest echelons of Society and government were expected to attend.

From Gabriel’s perspective, it was going to be a colossal headache coordinating security for the gala affair in so little time. The castle would be overflowing with important dignitaries, ambassadors, and assorted aristocrats arriving with their retainers, to say nothing of the Regent’s own troop of Royal Household Guards.

Gabriel’s main priority in all this, of course, was Sophia. She was to be the guest of honor, and clearly, he would have his work cut out for him.

By the very next day, he had signed his new commission papers, receiving a large and unexpected promotion to the rank of colonel. Amused, he could hardly wait to lord it over Derek, but by midday, he was already wading knee-deep into his new duties.

He got right to work studying the layout of the castle and consulting with the captain of the garrison stationed there on how they intended to monitor all the hundreds of guests coming through the gates, as well as inspecting the army of extra kitchen workers and groundskeepers who would soon be arriving to help prepare for the fête.

As he joined the other military men in shoring up their plans for security around the grand event, he was gradually satisfied that their captain seemed to have matters well in hand. Everything appeared to be in order.

When their work was done, the practical, hardheaded officers shared a private chuckle over the “Ancient Greece” theme of the coming ball.

“Are all those nobs going to show up here dressed in togas like a lot of garden statues?” the captain asked.

“Don’t know, but I sincerely hope not.” Gabriel flashed a smile and clapped the captain on the back. “Gentlemen.”

“Sir.” They saluted him as he took leave of them.

But returning from the gatehouse to the castle, Gabriel finally had a few moments to reflect on his new situation. With all that was in motion, there wasn’t much time to handle his own affairs. Last night, after being assigned to his new quarters, a spartan yet oddly cozy stone-walled room in one of the turrets, he had hurried to tie up loose ends, dashing off several letters to settle accounts with Mrs. Moss, signing off the lease of the farm, reminding her not to forget the kittens in the hayloft, and asking Derek to remove and store his belongings, and to forward his clothes and weapons as quickly as possible.

In a final note to his father and sister in London, he let his family know about his mission.

It reminded him of all the times in India that his regiment had been called up for action with very little notice in advance. He and his brother had both learned how to put their affairs in order with bracing efficiency.

For Gabriel, this was the kind of life he knew and understood. He had to admit it felt good to be back in a position of command, and facing danger.

He was still a bit in shock to find that his “Gypsy girl” was a royal princess. For heaven’s sake, the chit had dusted his furniture! He had known she was not being quite honest with him at the farm, but that was the last possibility he would have guessed.

Though he was ever so glad she had come back into his life, it was also a bitter disappointment to him privately to learn she was so far above his station. He was leery about their ability to keep their hands off each other, but there was no way in hell he could have walked away from her when she needed him. By God, if he had refused and something happened to her…

Well, it bloody well wouldn’t now. Whoever was after her was going to have to get through him first. The thought of anyone trying to hurt Sophia affected him with dark force. Violence rumbled in his veins like distant thunder.

Maybe the lovely royal could never be his, but at least he could protect her.

He really could not explain what it was about her that turned him inside out. She made him feel like no one ever had before. He had existed in a state of fairly unshakable equilibrium for thirty-four years on this earth and then nearly left it, but only now had he begun to taste what it meant to feel truly alive.

Yesterday in the Map Room when she had held him so hard, her sorrow, her need, had torn at his long-numbed heart; in that moment, sheltering her in his arms, he had felt as though he had been born for her. Born to protect her and to see this through, even if in the end, destiny demanded that he give his life for her.

He knew that he would, without hesitation. That was what any bodyguard gave his oath to do, if it came down to it. Besides, by escorting Sophia safely to her homeland so she could take power, he would be indirectly helping to improve the lives of many thousands of her subjects.

That had to count for something against the blood of all the men he had slain in battle.

Marching back into the castle, his next task was a meeting with her retinue of Greek bodyguards.

He knew they would be less than thrilled to find themselves placed under the command of an outsider, but they’d soon learn to like it, he thought in grim determination. Or else.

He wanted to hear from their own mouths exactly what had happened on the night of the attack. No matter what sort of heroes Sophia insisted her Greek guards were, successful penetration by the enemy clearly indicated problems of some sort. Gabriel meant to identify any flaws in their procedures and establish changes accordingly.

Considering he had three days to get his team in shape before the night of the ball, there was no time for making pretty speeches. He was sorry they had lost their captain—this Leon chap had obviously meant a great deal to them—but Gabriel did not intend to go easy on them.

First off, they needed to know who was in charge.

With Sophia’s life at stake, he wanted them more afraid of
him
than they were of the enemy. It always worked on his troops back in India. His men would’ve charged into the mouth of hell for him. They never dared break ranks or retreat, knowing they’d have
him
to deal with.

They didn’t call him the Iron Major for nothing, but his skill as a leader had kept large numbers of his men alive to fight another day. No, her royal bodyguards were not going to like him one bit.

He did not give a damn.

Before long, they were assembled in the Armory Hall for his inspection. He walked down the line of men standing at attention, scrutinizing each with a dissecting stare.

“I know you lost your leader and that you don’t particularly trust me,” he said as he sauntered by them. “But our lives now depend on each other, and more important, Her Highness’s safety rests on our ability to function as a team. Understood?”

A surly mumble of assent was all the response the insolent bleeders would begrudge him.

“Pardon?” Gabriel quirked an eyebrow, passing a cool glance down the line of wary faces. “I did not hear you,” he said mildly.

Some of the men responded with a proper “Yes, sir,” but a few of the holdouts just looked at him.

Gabriel laughed softly and walked up to the largest man, who just stood there glaring at him. He looked him straight in the eyes. “Problem with your hearing? Perhaps that would explain why you were all apparently so taken off guard the night of the attack!”

Anger flared in the big fellow’s face, but Gabriel held his stare. As the man read the dormant ferocity in the depths of Gabriel’s eyes, he reconsidered his defiance, dropping his gaze.

“Palace guards,” he mused aloud in a philosophical tone as he resumed his stroll past their ranks. “Have any of you ever even
seen
a battlefield?”

One man down the row lifted his hand. “I have.”

“Yes. What is your name?”

“Demetrius, sir.”

“Where did you see action?”

“I fought under Leon in the mountains of Greece for a while against Ali Pasha’s troops.”

“Good.” He nodded and stifled a sigh. Well, it was better than nothing.

He proceeded to question them about the details of the ambush, studying each man closely. As they described the sequence of events during the attack, Gabriel listened, stunned to hear how Sophia had defended herself in the coach. She had shot one attacker and stabbed another.

No wonder she had pulled a weapon on him first thing in the morning when he’d found her in his barn.

“What about the enemy? Were any of them captured?”

“No, sir.”

He looked at his list. “You are Markos?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on.”

“They took their dead with them when they finally retreated.”

“It was like they just disappeared into the night without a trace,” the one called Yannis added.

“Without a trace, eh?” Gabriel murmured skeptically. “These were not phantoms, they were men—a fact Her Highness proved when she made them bleed. Surely you gave chase? Which direction did they go?”

“They split up, east and south, sir.”

“How far did you pursue them? How many miles?” he persisted.

They fell silent.

“Ah. Not miles, then. I see. Furlongs? Yards?” He growled when none of them supplied a solid answer. “You,” he said sharply, pointing to a burly man with olive-toned skin and a thick mustache. “What is your name?”

“Timo.”

“How long have you served the princess?”

“Eight years, sir.”

“All right.” He nodded. “Tell me what happened when the enemy went into retreat.”

“Well, Colonel,” he started uneasily, “when they split up, the truth of it is, we…had a bit of confusion.”

“Confusion.”

“Yes, sir. Leon was hit. Her Highness had cleared the area. The enemies were on the run, breaking every which way. Our biggest concern was to stop them from following her, which we did. But when they broke, there were not enough of us to follow them in each direction that they ran. We argued if we should flock to the princess or chase down the enemy or what,” he admitted with a look of chagrin.

“I see. So, in the moment of crisis, you fell to pieces.”

They started to protest.

“Silence!”
He swept them with an icy glare. “Gentlemen, this is not an acceptable performance.” He counted off their failures on his fingers. “First, you were taken off guard; then, overwhelmed by superior numbers, you were unable to repulse the foes before your ranks were penetrated; lastly, when your captain was cut down, you fell into disarray. What of your chain of command?” he barked. “What of your bloody discipline? I don’t want to hear any excuses. It’s a miracle any of you are alive—to say nothing of Her Highness! Or maybe she should be the one protecting
you
!”

Gabriel took a good long look at their contrite faces, and finally snorted. “I shall want a thorough write-up of all current security measures and protocols now in place. Get that to me by dawn. After I have had a chance to review and revise these measures as I see fit, prepare to spend the next few days in drills. Oh, and gentlemen, in closing, let me just make one thing very clear.”

They looked at him again in heedful caution.

“What Princess Sophia must face in the coming months is going to be a trial for us all. But I will promise you one thing. If she is harmed, if she is touched—” He stared gravely at each man in turn as he spoke. “If she so much as breaks her little fingernail, I will personally
pulverize
any man who has not carried out his duty to perfection. Are we clear?” he bellowed in sudden fury.

Several jumped; others blanched.

“Yes, sir!”

“Good,” he finished. “Carry on, then.”

As the men scattered to their orders, Gabriel tugged his sleeves down neatly about his wrists, pleased that he had made his point.

With that, he strode off to find the jewel he must safeguard and soon discovered her in the morning room in the private wing of the palace.

Sophia was curled on a satin couch, answering her correspondence, a little white poodle sleeping on her lap.