Prince Charming (16 page)

Rafe had been apprised of the situation, however, and waited tensely for news. He stood at the railing above the ballroom and threw back a draught of whiskey. He was angry, tense about the riot in progress, with a host of questions about that infuriating redhead swarming in his mind.

Who was she and how the hell had she done it? How had she breached security? The peasant child, Gianni, was gone, of course. Why had she come here, risking her neck to free him? What was her plan? Had she orchestrated the riot?

Impatient for word of her, he pushed away from the railing and walked back into the room, where his friends were clamoring for her blood. Most had been robbed by the Masked Rider. The news that the outlaw in question was a young girl had humiliated them to the point of rage. They had all been bested and wanted revenge. Listening to them chilled Rafe’s blood.

“I’ll be there to see her hang!” Niccolo said, though he had been flirting with her less than an hour ago, a fact that probably only intensified his venom.

“They had better catch her this time!” Adriano burst out. “And when they do, I hope you are not thinking of letting the little bitch off the hook, Rafe. She’s a menace!”

“She’s a marvel,” he replied in a low voice that went unheard in their raucous outpouring of burned vanity.
The purest kiss he’d ever tasted.

His own pride smarted along with theirs, but Rafe did not know what to think. Daniela Chiaramonte was a puzzle he urgently needed to solve. She enraged, confounded, baffled him—yet she had wrung from him a great deal of grudging respect, for the girl had nerve the likes of which he had rarely run across in either sex.
And to think, until he had tasted her tonight, she had never been kissed….

Why, she must think him the greatest damned fool of them all, panting after her like a dog, he thought with a scowl. She probably thought him an utter joke. It would not stand! The girl needed to be put in her place.

“Who is she, Rafe?” asked the scholarly Viscount Elan Berelli, the most prudent and sensible of his friends.

My nemesis,
he thought in wry annoyance. “A Chiaramonte. Her name is Daniela.”

Elan furrowed his brow and pushed his spectacles up higher onto the bridge of his nose. “Chiaramonte? Wasn’t there a Marquis Chiaramonte who ruined himself with drink and gambling when we were boys?”

“I wonder if that was her father,” Rafe said with a frown.

Just then, there was a sudden brisk knock at the door.

Tomas answered it.

A lieutenant of the Royal Guard saluted, short of breath in his haste. “Your Highness, the fires are out and the riot has been averted. They have been taken.”

Rafe stepped toward him eagerly. “All of them?”

“The little child escaped us.”

“But the Masked Rider?”

“In custody, sir.”

Hearty sounds of satisfaction broke out in the room, as if the young lords’ favorite horse had just come from behind to win the derby. Rafe glanced uneasily at his friends, disturbed by the rising savagery in their tones as they urged on one another’s anger.

“Let’s go get her!” Federico bayed like a hound on the hunt.

“Settle down,” Rafe sharply commanded, then turned back to the lieutenant. “Tell your men well done. Forget the child. He’s of no consequence.”

“Shall we interrogate the prisoners, Your Highness?”

“Leave that to me. Advise your men that I don’t want these prisoners abused…and confine the Masked Rider in solitary for the night.”

“Rafe!” Adriano hissed in protest. “Don’t give her preferential treatment!”

He turned to his friend, lowering his voice. “Am I to let her spend the night with the thugs of the kingdom as her bunk mates? There won’t be anything left of her by morning. For God’s sakes, she’s a virgin.”

“A virgin? Throw her to us, then!” Niccolo cried with a drunken laugh, slapping his thigh at his own jest.

Rafe stared at him, then looked at the others, feeling as though he were seeing them for the first time. He thought of Daniela’s innocent eyes of clear aquamarine. The louder they crowed for her blood, the more urgent grew his deep-seated impulse to protect her, intensifying to an almost panicked need, especially now that Elan had reminded him of that minor scandal a dozen or so years ago, which he suspected had been the ruin of Daniela’s father—and her family fortunes.

He was annoyed as hell at the girl, but whatever she might have done to him or them, she was young and valiant and beautiful—and the note in their voices was ugly.

“We’ll teach her a lesson she’ll never forget!”

“You’ll not touch her,” Rafe said in steely quiet, glaring at them.

Some of them stopped laughing abruptly. Others wore sudden, sobered looks of surprise at his curt rebuke.

Warily, he turned back to the lieutenant. “Have the Masked Rider brought to the interrogation chamber at seven tomorrow morning—provided she left that part of the jail intact?” he added dryly.

“Only the west wall was damaged, Your Highness. The masons have already inspected it and said it can be easily repaired.”

“Well, that’s refreshing. You have your orders.”

“Yes, Sire!” the man clipped out, saluting.

Rafe nodded his dismissal, tamping down the urge to have Daniela brought from the rough and dangerous jail immediately. It would be begging for trouble to go too softly on her. Besides, by holding her there overnight, at least he could be sure she wouldn’t escape again, nor could his enraged companions get at her. He hoped that when the liquor wore off, their tempers would cool. As for Lady Daniela, it was going to be a long night for his little friend alone in the dark, wondering and agonizing over her fate, but by morning perhaps she’d be more compliant.

He looked over to find Adriano shaking his head at him in disgust. “I can’t believe you’re taking her side over ours.”

“I haven’t taken any sides yet. It’s for the courts to decide.”

“I know you. You’re going to find some way to let her off the hook, because you can’t resist a tolerable-looking female. Don’t get caught up in whatever lies she may have told you—she’s a criminal, Rafe! She’s a thief! We’ve been here before, don’t you remember?”

“Watch it,” he growled, unwilling to admit that Adriano had hit his fears precisely on the mark. It would be all too easy for that girl with her big, innocent eyes and soft, vulnerable mouth to take advantage of him—and yet the fact that he could not predict her next move or control her fiery will excited him intensely.

“Don’t you see how she’s already started manipulating you? If you help this little wench, she’s just going to take you for whatever she can get. Just like Jul—”

“Do not speak that name in my hearing,” he warned fiercely, cutting Adriano off just as the door opened and Don Arturo burst into the room, followed by several of the other old counselors.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Rafe muttered under his breath. “What are you hags doing here?”

“There are fires and a riot in the city tonight, Your Highness!” the prime minister announced, marching over to him with the air of a man clearly prepared to take charge. “We thought you should know—if you’re not too busy entertaining yourself!”

“The fires are out and the riot has already been put down,” Rafe said with elaborate patience, ignoring the insult with stalwart diplomacy. “Return to your homes.”

“I should think not!” he exclaimed in self-righteous indignation. “Your Highness, you have been in power mere hours and have no experience with political crisis. The cabinet will manage everything from here on in. His Majesty would expect no less of us. Run along and enjoy your party. After all, it is your birthday,” he added under his breath, glancing at the other old dons.

They scoffed knowingly.

“My lord, he’s going to let that filthy bandit woman off the hook, even though she robbed us all and gave away our gold!” Adriano whined to the prime minister. “Can you talk reason to him?”

Don Arturo looked up at Rafe shrewdly. “Yes, I heard the Masked Rider was captured. A female, you say?”

“A Chiaramonte,” Rafe warned softly. “Don’t any of you see that everything she’s done has benefited other people? I saw her house, her dress. She didn’t spend a cent of that gold on herself, and I daresay you all could spare it.”

“The law does not care for motive and circumstance, Your Highness,” said Don Arturo, pouncing on this new development with a fighting gleam in his eyes that said he would take any reason to combat Rafe now that the king had gone. “It is your duty, as I’m sure you are aware, to hang this lawbreaker.”

“I know my duty,” he said in a low, stoic tone. He also knew that his father’s counselors were just waiting for him to make one wrong move so they could take power from him before he wrecked the kingdom for his father.

Just then, Orlando joined them, slipping into the room with a grave nod to the men, then he sent Rafe a questioning look. Orlando was family: The presence of at least one sure ally bolstered Rafe’s confidence.

“Gentlemen,” he said, lifting his chin, “rest assured that when I have heard all the facts, I will decide Lady Daniela’s fate. Until then, I am hardly going to send a lynch mob after her. You all just need to calm down,” he added in annoyance.

“
Calm down,
while justice is being trampled underfoot?”

“That is a gross exaggeration.”

“I think not!” The prime minister drew himself up to his diminutive height. “If you fail to uphold the law
yet again
, Your Highness, do not count on me as your ally!”

Rafe absorbed this and was silent for a long moment, staring at the floor. “Don Arturo, you disappoint me.” He lifted his sober gaze to the prime minister’s face. “I had hoped you could rise above your personal grudge against me for the good of Ascencion, but I see now you still blame me for your nephew’s death. I know he was like a son to you, but I wasn’t the one who killed him.”

A stunned silence dropped upon the room.

Even Rafe’s wilder companions looked shocked. Giorgio di Sansevero had been a friend to them all, and his name was too painful to mention.

Everyone was staring at Rafe.

Don Arturo trembled with ire. “You were there. You could have saved him, but you didn’t, and to my thinking, it’s the same as if you were the one who cut him down in cold blood. You knew as well as anyone that dueling was against the law, but you didn’t stop him. No. Instead, you were his
second
,” he said bitterly.

“He was my friend. I could not refuse his request.”

“He would be alive here today if you had done your duty. He was a boy,” the man wrenched out.

“As was I.”

“You could have stopped him. He looked up to you like they all do!”

“I tried to stop him. Giorgio wanted blood and I wasn’t about to tell him how to live his life.”

“Dueling is against the law!” he cried again in anguish. “You ignored the law then, and it seems that you will ignore it now! Who will have to die this time for your entertainment?”

“How dare you?” Rafe bellowed, taking a step toward him.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Orlando broke in smoothly, pushing his way between them. He gave Rafe a hard look, then turned to Don Arturo. “Let us behave like civilized men.”

The duke’s interruption diverted some of the angry tension that vibrated in the room. He looked around at the others. “My dear Don Arturo, His Majesty left Prince Rafael in governance of Ascencion for a reason. Of course His Highness knows his duty. There is no question of that. For duty’s sake, loyalty’s, indeed, for his very pride’s sake I have no doubt that my cousin will serve justice. When this woman has been condemned to death, the people will rest content that he is as trustworthy a leader as King Lazar himself.”

Rafe looked over at him in bafflement. “Are you daft? The people love the Masked Rider. If I hang that girl, they’ll hate me even more.”

Orlando looked taken aback, then smiled patiently. Rafe felt his anger climbing at his cousin’s easy manner. Rafe liked Orlando, but kin or no, he could never quite bring himself to trust the man.

“If you don’t hang her, Rafe, who’s going to mind your authority?” Orlando asked reasonably. “I really don’t see that you have any choice.”

“I damned well do have a choice,” he said forcefully. “I am the prince regent, am I not? A fact you all seem determined to forget.” With a look of disgust, he turned away from them, racking his brain.

Hang Daniela?
he thought as the reality of it sank in. He would sooner smash some priceless Hellenistic vase or burn the Mona Lisa. How could he destroy someone so young, so much better, finer of spirit than himself? He had wanted to wrap her sweet skin in silk and cover her body in kisses, but now he must send her to the executioner. He flinched at the thought. He was the supreme judicial authority on Ascencion in his father’s absence and he alone had the power to save her. Yet they were right. Who would respect his authority if he let her go?

He would continue to be naught but a joke in the eyes of the world, playing the fool again for a woman. Besides, what kind of precedent would it set for future criminal cases if he pardoned her?
Ah, ginger cat, what a bind you have put me in now.

“Leave me,” he murmured, needing time alone to think. “All of you.”

“Your Highness—” Don Arturo began.

“Goddamn it, I will be obeyed,” he uttered low, in fury. Out of all patience with their defiance, he whirled around to face them, his voice a whip. He took a step toward them in regal wrath. “Get out of my house, all of you!” he thundered as they scrambled toward the door as though a lion had been unleashed in the room. “Elan, go downstairs and tell that damned orchestra to put their instruments away. Get these people out of here! The party is over. It’s over. Do you hear me, you useless, lazy bastards?” he shouted at his friends.
“The party is over!”

Rafe stood in place, his chest heaving.

They were gone in a moment and he was alone.

He raked his hand through his hair, noticing that it shook slightly with fury and, if he was honest, with a trace of fear. He felt woefully inadequate for the burdens now resting on his shoulders. Riots. Fires. Droughts.