The Stolen Princess (26 page)

Nothing to do with these primitive emotions surging up within him. The moment the idea had occurred to him he wanted it done, wanted her to be his wife. Now, without delay. His wife.

The woman who had sworn repeatedly that she would never marry again.

Nash nodded. “Yes, you're right. We'll get it organized at once.”

Gabe frowned as a fairly large hole in the scheme occurred to him.

His brother noticed his expression and said, “You are having second thoughts, aren't you?”

“No, it's not that—”

“If it's the special license you're worried about, I will see to it. Aunt Gosforth will no doubt be happy to organize one of her ‘small' receptions.”

“Yes,” Gabe said absently. “The more witnesses, the more difficult it is for the government to act.” And the more difficult for her to wriggle out of.

Nash nodded. “I'm glad you see the value of family, after all.”

Gabe gave him a flat look. “For a good cause, yes. But don't get too excited about this scheme just yet.”

“Why, what's the problem?”

Gabe said slowly, “There's just one small fly in the ointment.”

“And what is that?”

“The bride.”

“The bride? She's the fly? Do you think she might not like it?”

“That's putting it mildly.”

“Don't worry, I'll talk to her,” Nash said confidently. “I'm very good at explaining things and convincing people. It's my job, after all. Bring her in.”

“M
arry Gabriel Renfrew? Absolutely not!” Callie stared first at the man who'd been introduced as “the Honorable Nash Renfrew, something in government” and then at Gabriel. There was a strong family resemblance: the nose, the chin, and those intense blue eyes. Not to mention the shoulders, the height, and the infuriating assumption that he knew what was best for her.

“I won't do it!” she reiterated. “It's a ridiculous idea. There must be another way.”

Nash shook his head. “We've given it a great deal of thought. It's the only way we can think of to prevent my government from handing your son back to the Zindarian government.”

“Not the Zindarian government,” she flashed, “Count Anton, the snake who has been plotting to murder him!”

Nash shrugged. “I know; Gabriel told me. It's unfortunate, but unless you have proof, which Gabriel assures me you don't, our government cannot concern itself with personalities; the count has provided the appropriate paperwork.”

“Paperwork!”
she stormed. “What sort of people would put paperwork before a child's safety?”

Nash gave her a very Renfrew look. “Princess, to a government paperwork is
everything
.”

She glared at him and took a few angry paces around the room. “Then I will take my son and flee.”

He shrugged. “It will just delay the inevitable. They will track you down and bring you back, and then you will be in breach of the law and will be separated from your son.”

“But I am
English
! I came back to my own country to be safe!”

Nash looked regretful. “Unfortunately, Princess, your nationality changed once you married. Which is why—”

“No! I won't even consider it! It's utterly ridiculous.”

“It's not, you know,” Gabe said. “It makes a great deal of sense. And I'm the perfect candidate.”

She snorted.

“He is,” Nash insisted. “You couldn't get anyone to suit your purpose better—not without wasting time, and time is of the essence here. With the Renfrew family connections—our elder brother is an earl, you know—we have the potential to cause all sorts of scandal if anyone tried to separate you from your son, or you from your husband.”

“Husband!”
she declared with loathing. “I don't want a husband.”

“Not even if it will save your son?”

She gave him an anguished look. “How would it work?”

“If you married Gabriel, you'd once again become an English citizen. And since he has excellent family connections”—he gave his brother a direct look—“we'd use those connections to put pressure on the government to delay.”

“Delay!”
she exclaimed. “What good is delay? If I understand you correctly, in the end, you will still have to hand my son over to a murderer!”

Nash gave her a shocked look. “Princess, I assure you, the English government may be riddled with imperfections, but in matters of creative delay we are unmatched.”

She bit her lip and considered his statement. “How much of a delay do you think you could manage?”

“Until forever,” Nash said with pride.

She gave him a doubtful look. “Forever?”

He made a careless gesture. “At least until your son is of age.”

“Or until Count Anton dies?” Gabe asked.

Nash inclined his head. “Indeed.” He narrowed his eyes at his brother. “But not if you murdered him, Gabriel. That would complicate things enormously.”

She looked at Gabe anxiously. “I don't want you to commit murder.”

“Then your only alternative is to commit matrimony,” Gabe responded.

She flung him a resentful glance, cornered and desperate.

Gabe felt for her…almost. He was determined to convince her. Now that they were in London he wouldn't put it past her to simply disappear. Her notion of staying at a hotel had given him a jolt that had shocked him.

He had to get her to promise to marry him. A promise would hold her. “If it will save Nicky, is there really any choice?”

“I don't know. I can't think. I need time,” she said unhappily.

Gabe looked deep into her eyes and saw she was terrified.

He wondered yet again what her husband had done to her to make her so fearful of marrying again. He had to reassure her. He wouldn't hurt her, he would treat her tenderly…

“It would be purely a matter of convenience,” Nash said, and Gabe had the urge to strangle him again.

“If that was what you wanted,” Gabe amended quickly with a hard look at his brother.

Nash's brows rose. He said coolly, “Don't think of it as a marriage; think of it purely as a legal maneuver, like a chess gambit. A marriage between you and my brother would block Count Anton's petition for custody of the boy and mire it in legal arguments, thus giving our government an excuse to delay.” He waited a moment and added, “It's my considered opinion that it's the only way to keep your son with you.”

He rose. “Gabriel, you were right about the fly in the ointment. I'll leave you two to discuss it in private. It seems to me that there are matters between you two that need to be settled before any agreement can be made. I'll see you at dinner, which is in—” He consulted his pocket watch. “—fifteen minutes.”

“What did he mean about the fly in the ointment?” she demanded as soon as the door closed behind Nash.

“Nothing. Just a beautiful fly with lovely green eyes. And the most sweet-smelling ointment,” Gabe said soothingly. “Do you remember the smell of the ointment? We have fond memories of ointment, you and I.”

She gave him a flat stare.

“Or at least I do,” he finished hastily. She was obviously not in the mood for seduction.

“You see, this is why I have such strong doubts about any agreement we might make,” she told him. “You don't take women seriously.”

“I do take women serio—”

“You take women like Mrs. Barrow seriously. You took your great-aunt Gert seriously, but not me. You never listen to me.”

“I do—”

“You ignore my expressed wishes and ride roughshod over my decisions and I cannot and will not put up with it.”

Gabriel was shocked. “But that's not how it is at all.”

“It is. And when I object you tease me and play seductive games and pretend it hasn't happened. Like now. I have serious concerns—I told you repeatedly before any of this came up that I had no intention of remarrying—and then you talk to me of ointment! And call me a pretty fly! As if my concerns are foolish female nonsense. Well, back in Zindaria men told me my fears that someone was trying to kill my son were foolish female nonsense, and they were wrong and I was right and I won't put up with being treated like a ninny!” She stormed to the window and stood with her back to him. Her chest heaved and her spine was rigid with tension.

She was close to tears, he saw. And she was right. Gabe felt chastened and remorseful. He hadn't meant to belittle her, just coax her into a happier frame of mind.

Had he really been such an overbearing bully? He hadn't meant to be. He'd honestly done what he thought was right.

But he could see how it must look to her.

“It comes from years of being an officer,” he said ruefully. “One is expected to decide what is best for everyone under your command. It becomes a habit.”

He swallowed. “And the teasing, I don't mean to demean you at all. It is simply my way. What Great-aunt Gert used to call my ‘lamentable and ill-timed tendency to levity.' It seems to have gotten worse.” He took a deep breath and said resolutely, “But I am willing to change. I don't know if I can,” he confessed. “But if you marry me, I promise you I'll try.”

There was a long silence from the window embrasure. “I quite like your frivolity at times,” she said eventually. “You make me laugh, and I know I'm too serious. But I think sometimes you use frivolity to hide something deeper.” She turned and looked at him. “It's a way of dealing with the darker side of life, isn't it? Of showing gaiety in the face of darkness, or skimming over the surface instead of looking into the abyss.”

He swallowed, feeling like an insect on a pin. Facing an abyss. “Perhaps. Sometimes. And sometimes it's just…I can't help myself. I'm sorry if it annoys you.”

She gave him a searching look, then a faint smile. “Sometimes it makes me want to hit you!”

“Then hit me,” he said at once. “I have a very thick head and—” He broke off and said ruefully, “I'm doing it again, aren't I?'

She smiled properly now. “Yes, but I don't mind. I don't care how frivolous you are as long as you listen. And you are listening, aren't you?”

“Yes.” God, yes, he was listening.

She crossed the room and sat down again, smoothing her skirts and folding her hands in her lap before she began. “You've been honest with me, so I'll try to explain my position,” she said. “I know I haven't always made the wisest choices, but deciding for myself is a new experience for me—a very new and precious experience.

“All my life Papa decided everything for me—what I did, what I wore, what I learned, ate, who I met—for every hour of every day. And then, when I was just sixteen, I married Prince Rupert of Zindaria, who ordered my life even more closely and rigidly than Papa.

“And then they they both died within two months of each other, and for a full year I remained trapped in that rigidly ordered life, until my son's life was threatened, and I didn't know who I could trust, so I had to decide for myself what to do because there wasn't another soul in the world I could rely on to protect me.

“So I made a decision—the first and probably the most important one of my life—not a very courageous decision, I admit, to flee, but it was my decision, and we did it—we ran.

“And every day of the next eighteen days I made decision after decision for myself and my son. And some were good and some were mistakes, but they were mine, too, and I learned from them.”

She looked at him, “There hasn't been a lot in my life that is truly mine. But I learned something in that time: deciding for oneself can be terrifying. But it's also exhilarating. We got here, Gabriel. I got myself and my son, alone and unaided, across Europe. And I'm proud of it.

“So don't treat me as a foolish child. I was kept that way by my father and then my husband, but I vowed never to return to that state again. I planned never to marry, never to make vows of obedience and duty to any man.” Her voice broke.

The speech had upset her again and she rose from her chair and took an agitated few steps around the room. Gabe watched, having no idea how to convince her. The only thing he could think of to do was to grab her and kiss her and not stop until she agreed to marry him.

But something told him she might not welcome that approach just now.

She said, “I understand why my marriage to an Englishman is necessary…”

Gabe held his breath.

She chewed her lip, gave him a troubled look, and said, “Perhaps I should ask your brother to find me another candidate.”

“Another candidate?” Gabe was stunned. “What other candidate?”