The Playboy Prince (20 page)

“He will be.” Something dangerous came into his voice, into his eyes. “That I promise you.”

“I want you to be careful, Bennett.”

He smiled, so that the look vanished. “How can I be otherwise with a dozen guards smothering me?”

“Very careful,” she repeated. “I’ve never known you to carry a pistol to the theater.”

She knew it was a lie. He didn’t have to hear her say it, only to look in her eyes. She knew, but didn’t understand. And because she was Gabriella, she wouldn’t stop until she did.

“Leave it for now.”

“So Reeve told me,” she said with an impatient gesture. “It’s my family. How can I?”

“I only know it’s going to be over soon. In the meantime we have to stand together. Something’s being done, Brie. Hold on to that.”

“I have been.” She knew it was unfair to push, so released him. “I want you to promise you won’t do anything rash.”

“What is this reputation I carry with me?”

“Ben, please.”

“All right, you have it.” He kissed her again. “I adore you, even if you did bring Dorian into the world to pester me.” He gave her hand a final pat before he started down the stairs. “
A bientôt.”

She watched him go, but the worry stayed with her. “
A bientôt.
”

Hannah wasn’t in her rooms. Bennett found himself frustrated yet again when he entered and found them empty. Had she gone out again? he wondered. Was she even now putting herself in danger to protect his family?

He hated it. The thought of her risking her life, of blocking his body with her own as she had done last night was impossible to accept. Whether it was family, friend or country, he protected. How could he do less for the woman he loved?

Wandering in her rooms, he moved to her dresser. There was a small enameled box with a peacock on the
lid. He ran a finger over it, wondering where she had come by it. A gift? From whom? A purchase in some little shop in London? He needed to know even those inconsequential details about her. Couldn’t she understand that in order to resolve his feelings he had to know the woman he’d given them to?

He looked up, and reflected in the mirror was the bed where they’d fought, and loved, the night before. If he stood very still, he could almost feel the echoes of passion and discovery in the air. Would she hate him for that? Even though the loving had been as intense and as stunning for her as for him, would she forgive him for forcing her to set the barriers aside?

He’d been rough. . . . Bennett looked down at his own hands, turning them over, spreading his fingers. And he hadn’t cared. All of his life he’d taken such pains never to hurt a woman. Now, when he’d found the only woman, he’d set out to do just so.

Walking to the window he stared out and tried to sort out his feelings. He still resented her. No matter what his brain told him, his heart was still bruised by the deception. More, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he’d fallen in love with two women and could trust neither.

Then he saw her in the gardens below.

*   *   *

She needed some time, Hannah told herself. Just an hour alone to clear her mind and calm her nerves. She knew she’d handled Deboque as smoothly as possible that morning. If nothing went wrong, they would close the trap on him in a week. Then she would have succeeded. In her file would go another favorable report. A two-year assignment successfully tied up could very well mean a promotion. She was, she knew, only inches away from a captaincy. Why didn’t it excite her as it once had?

Time, Hannah told herself again. She just needed some time.

She would take a much needed and well-earned vacation. Perhaps at last she would go to America—New York, San Francisco. Wouldn’t it be possible to lose herself in such places for a while?

Or perhaps she would go back to England. She could spend time in Cornwall walking the moors or riding by the sea. In England she couldn’t lose herself, but perhaps she could find herself again.

Wherever she went, she would be leaving Cordina. And Bennett.

Wisteria rose up in an arch, sheltering a bench and inviting long, lazy contemplations. She sat, and closing her eyes, tried to bring her troubled mind to rest.

Who was she? For the first time in years she was forced to ask herself and admit she didn’t know the answer. A part of her was the quiet woman who enjoyed a long afternoon with a book, who liked to talk of literature and art. A part of her was the woman who kept a weapon within reach and listened to footsteps behind her.

The fact that she could be both had always been a benefit before, never, as it was now, a painful puzzle to solve. She wished she could talk with her father, even for an hour. He understood what it was to live two lives and find contentment and challenge in each.

But she couldn’t risk even that. In this, as in the assignment that had brought her here, she was alone.

He detested her. It was Bennett who had caused the ache and the doubts. It was Bennett who had forced her to question what she’d always taken for granted. Last night he’d taken her mind and heart and body, only because he’d wanted to humiliate her. And he had. No one, no one had ever shown her how much there could be, how much she could give. No one had ever left her so empty and alone.

He wouldn’t know how much he’d hurt her. He couldn’t know, she thought as the tears she’d held off throughout the night began to fall. Because he would never know how strong her feelings were for him, and how hopeless.

She had chosen her path, Hannah reminded herself, and she would live with it. In a matter of days it would no longer cross his.

He would be safe. His family would be safe. And she would be gone.

He found her sitting on the bench, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes closed and her face wet with tears. So many feelings tumbled into him that he couldn’t separate them. Regret, confusion, love, guilt.

She’d want to be left alone. He thought he understood her that well. There was still enough bitterness in him to want to leave her alone. He could no more have left her there than he could have left a wounded dog on the side of the road.

As he went closer, Hannah sprang up from the bench. He saw the shock and humiliation run across her face. For a moment, he thought she would turn and run. But she held her ground.

“I thought I was alone.” Her voice was cold as she fought anger and embarrassment.

He took out a handkerchief and offered it. At the moment it was the only comfort he could give, or she accept. “I’m sorry I disturbed you.” His voice was as stiff as hers. “I think we need to talk.”

“Haven’t we?” She dried her face then crumpled the linen in her hands.

“Would you like to sit?”

“No, thank you.”

He slipped his hands into his pockets. She hadn’t slept, he thought as he saw the shadows under her eyes. Neither had he. So perhaps there they were even. “I spoke with my father this morning. You’ve met with Deboque already today.”

She started to cut him off, but relented. The garden was as secure as the palace—for the moment. “I don’t report to you on those matters, Your Highness.”

Temper narrowed his eyes and balled his hands into fists, but he spoke evenly. “No, but I’m now fully aware of the situation. I read your files.”

Her breath came out on a huff of air. Was nothing she was or had done hers alone any longer? “Very well then, your questions have been answered, your curiosity satisfied. You know everything there is to know about me—I hope you were entertained.”

“I didn’t read it to be entertained,” he tossed back. “Dammit, Hannah, I have a right to know.”

“You have no rights where I’m concerned. I’m neither servant or subject.”

“You’re the woman I took to bed last night.”

“That’s best forgotten. Don’t.” Her body went rigid as he started forward. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”

“Very well.” He stiffened even as she did. “But we both know certain things can’t be forgotten.”

“Mistakes can,” she countered. “I’m here as an agent of the ISS to protect you and your family, to stop Deboque’s plans to ruin Cordina and avoid the repercussions in Europe. Whatever has to be done to assure that, I’ll do, but I will
not
let you humiliate me again.” The tears started again, blinding her. “Oh, damn you, can’t you leave me alone? Wasn’t last night enough retribution for you?”

That snapped the very tenuous control he had on his own temper. He grabbed her arm, closing his fingers over the firm muscle. “Is that all it meant to you? Retribution? Can you stand here now and tell me you felt nothing, feel nothing? How accomplished a liar are you?”

“It doesn’t matter what I felt. You wanted to punish me, and you did.”

“I wanted to love you, and I did.”

“Stop.” That hurt, more than she was able to stand. She pushed him away only to be caught closer. The movement sent wisteria blossoms raining. “Do you think I couldn’t see how much you hated me? You looked at me and made me feel vile. For ten years I’ve been proud of what I do, and you took even that away from me.”

“And what of you?” He kept his voice low, but the anger was just as potent. “Can you tell me you didn’t know I was in love with you?” She started to shake her head in denial, but he tightened his fingers. “You knew I was in love with a woman who didn’t even exist. A quiet, shy and honest woman to whom I only wanted to show tenderness and patience. For the first time in my life there was a woman I could give my heart and my trust to, and she was nothing but a mirage.”

“I don’t believe you.” But she wanted to and her heart began to race. “You were restless, even bored. I entertained you.”

“I loved you.” He lifted his hand and held her face very still, very close. She saw his eyes as she had the night before, tawny with passion. “You’ll have to live with that.”

“Bennett—”

“And when I came to your room last night, I found another woman, one who had lied and used me.” He dragged the hand up, raking through her hair so that pins scattered. “One who looked like a witch,” he
murmured as her hair fell heavily over his hands. “And I wanted her just as badly, but without those tender, those sweet feelings. God help me, I still want her.”

When his mouth came down on hers, she didn’t protest. She’d also seen the truth in his eyes. He had loved her. Or he had loved the pretense of her. If desire was all he could give her now, she would take it. For duty she had sacrificed love, but even for duty, she wouldn’t sacrifice the crumbs she had left.

She wrapped her arms around him. Perhaps if she could give him the passion, someday he would forgive her the rest.

How easily he could lose himself in her. The passion was edgy and achy but it didn’t seem to matter. Her mouth was warm, her body slender and straining. If it wasn’t love she felt for him, at least there was need. He’d settled for no more than that before.

“Tell me you want me,” he demanded as he moved his mouth desperately over her face.

“Yes, I want you.” She hadn’t known it possible to feel triumph and defeat at the same time.

“Come with me now.”

“Bennett, I have no right to this.” She turned her face into his throat, wanting to draw just a little more of him into her. “I’m here only because—”

With his hands on her shoulders he drew her away before she could finish the denial. “For today, for one day, we’ll put your duty and mine aside.”

“And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow comes whether we want it to or not. Give me a few hours, Hannah.”

She would have given him her life, and somehow knew that would be easier than what he was asking now. Still, she put her hand in his.

They went on horseback. As Hannah cantered beside him, she could see that Bennett knew the route to their destination well. They turned into the woods where they’d raced once before, and he took the lead. Each time doubts rose up to plague her, she beat them back. She would take the few hours she was being offered.

She heard the stream before she saw it. It was a simple, musical sound that suited the leafy shade and
towering trees. When Bennett came to it, he turned his horse south. For a quarter of a mile they rode along the bank in silence.

The stream curved and twisted, then widened at a point where a trio of willows draped over it. Bennett stopped there and swung from the saddle.

“What a lovely spot.” Hannah reined in, but found herself not quite courageous enough to dismount. “Every time I think I’ve seen the most beautiful place in Cordina, I find another. Do you often come here?”

“Not often enough.” He’d secured his horse and now walked to her. Saying nothing, he held up a hand.

Here was the choice he’d refused to give her the night before. Perhaps he gave it to her now because he knew the decision had already been made. Hannah curled her fingers into his, held a moment, then dismounted. The silence continued while she tethered her horse beside his.

“I came here when my mother died.” He didn’t know why it seemed important that he tell her. “Not to grieve really, but because she always loved places like this. See the little white flowers along the bank?” His hand was on hers again as they moved closer to the stream. “She called them angel wings. They’re sure to have a complicated Latin name, but angel wings seemed right.”

Bending, he plucked one. It was no bigger than his thumb with thin petals cupped around a tiny blue center. “Every summer, before I’d have to go back to Oxford, I’d come here. For some reason it made leaving easier.” He tucked the flower into her hair. “When I was a child, I thought the fairies lived here. I used to look for them in the clover and under toadstools.”

She smiled and touched a hand to his cheek. “Did you ever find one?”

“No.” With his hand on her wrist, he turned his head to press his lips to her palm. “But I think they’re still here. That’s why this place is magic. That’s why I want to make love with you here.”

Their lips were still an inch apart as they lowered to the grass. They remained a breath apart as they began to undress each other. Kneeling, gazes locked, they unfastened buttons. Sunlight dappled over skin as material was pushed aside. Their lips brushed, then clung.