Читать книгу The Princess's Bodyguard - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 9

K ing Leopold crushed the letter in his meaty hand as he paced back and forth in his private chambers. With a mane of steel-gray hair and hypnotizing dark eyes, the ruler of Orlantha was still a handsome man at sixty. Six feet tall, with wide shoulders and thick chest, he emitted an aura of regal power. The willowy blond Queen Muriel, the king’s second wife and twenty years his junior, wrung her hands as she watched her husband and kept repeating the same caution. “Now, dear, don’t upset yourself.” Lisa waited, as she’d been instructed, her back ramrod straight and her chin tilted upward. Princess Adele had trusted her to keep her whereabouts a secret, and she intended to do just that. But considering how upset His Majesty was she wished that she had not been the one to deliver the letter.

The king’s health had been failing for the past several years, after his heart attack and bypass surgery. Only last year he had made a monumental decision—to abdicate the throne in favor of Princess Adele, upon her marriage to the duke. This decision was made when his doctors advised the king to reduce the stress in his life, and when it became apparent that the queen, after ten years of marriage, would not be giving the king a son to rule the kingdom.

Princess Adele was greatly admired and loved by the citizens of Orlantha. Poised, graceful, intelligent and charming, she was seen by her people as the ideal princess. A reformer and progressive thinker at heart, Adele worked diligently to help improve conditions in Orlantha, and her participation in social and charity organizations was legendary. Lisa knew that Orlantha would welcome Adele as queen with great celebration. The elected members of the council, who coruled the country with the monarch, also respected the princess, who supported the continuation of joint leadership. Pippin Ritter, vice chancellor of the council, had come to Princess Adele months ago with the information that Dedrick Vardan, Duke of Roswald, was a suspected member of a secret society called the Royalists, with ties to Balanchine. The Royalists’ objective was to reunite Orlantha and Balanchine under one monarch, who would be the supreme ruler after abolishing the elected council. Balanchine’s King Eduard was nearly eighty and had no heir. By a suspicious coincidence, Dedrick Vardan’s mother was King Eduard’s cousin.

“How dare Adele make such a demand! She says that she will not return home unless I call off her wedding to Dedrick. The very idea. I will not allow her to get away with blackmail.” King Leopold stopped, glared at Lisa and asked, “Do you have any idea where she went?”

Lisa swallowed hard. “No, Your Majesty. She simply commanded me to give you the letter.”

“Why didn’t you try to stop her?” the king asked.

“Sire, you must know that once the princess makes up her mind, no one can persuade her otherwise.”

Attired in a tailored navy-blue suit, Lord Sidney Burhardt, the king’s chief advisor—and some said second only in power to the king—clicked his heels after entering the room. All eyes turned to Lord Burhardt. He had the bearing of a soldier, which he had once been, and an air of superiority that immediately put others in their place. Add to those qualities his white-blond hair, cut conservatively short, and icy-blue eyes, and the chief advisor had the appearance of a Nazi SS officer as depicted in American films about World War II.

“Miss Mercer,” Lord Burhardt said. Lisa trembled. “Why did you not come directly to the king…or to me…before the princess left? If you had warned us, we could have prevented her from leaving.”

“As you well know, my first loyalty is to the princess.” Lisa looked directly at the king, judiciously avoiding eye contact with the chief advisor.

“Yes, yes, of course your loyalty is to the princess, as it should be.” The king looked at Lord Burhardt. “Just as your first loyalty is to me. So, do not badger poor Lisa. I’m thankful that Adele at least left a letter. Otherwise I might have continued thinking she had been kidnapped.”

“Yes, of course. We’re all thankful that the princess left the palace of her own accord,” Lord Burhardt replied. “But if the news is leaked to the press…if the people discover that she has fled only weeks before her wedding… I do wish Miss Mercer had tried to persuade the princess to stay—”

“How could we expect Adele’s secretary to be able to control her when I, her father, am unable to do anything with her? She’s a stubborn, willful girl. But in this matter she will comply with my wishes. She will marry Dedrick one month from this Saturday!”

“Then, Your Majesty, I suggest we—” Lord Burhardt said, but was quickly cut short by the king.

“Send for Colonel Rickard immediately,” the king commanded.

“My dear, why send for the chief of security now that Adele has already slipped past his guards?” Muriel asked.

King Leopold glared at his wife, who shrank away from him and cast her gaze to the floor.

“I’ll call for Colonel Rickard,” Lord Burhardt said.

King Leopold walked over, placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders and hugged her affectionately. She lifted her face and smiled at him.

Lisa’s stomach knotted painfully. Would Colonel Rickard question her? Would he figure out that the princess had left the palace disguised as her?

Within five minutes the tall, slender chief of palace security stood before the king, an embarrassed flush on his pale face. Lisa felt sorry for Colonel Rickard. After all, it had been on his watch, so to speak, that the princess had managed to leave the palace grounds without detection—and without her palace guards.

“The princess has not been kidnapped,” the king said.

Colonel Rickard sighed; his lips twitched with a grateful half smile. “Then you’ve heard from her, Your Majesty?”

King Leopold held up the crushed letter and pointed it at Colonel Rickard as if it were a weapon. “The damn fool girl has run off and says in this message—” he shook his clenched fist “—that she will not return until I call off her wedding to Dedrick.”

“This information is strictly confidential.” Lord Burhardt offered first the colonel and then Lisa a deadly, warning glare. “It is to go no further than the people in this room.”

“Quite right,” the king said. “Colonel, I want the princess found and brought home as soon as possible. How do you suggest we go about accomplishing this without alerting the press in any way? Things must be handled discreetly. A scandal must be averted!”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” the colonel said. “I suggest hiring a private firm to track down the princess and, with your permission, bring her home even if it means taking her against her will.”

“A private firm? Hmm.” The king rubbed his chin. “A firm outside of Orlantha? Yes, yes. A trusted firm with operatives who know how to keep their mouths shut.”

“I will make some discreet inquiries, sire, and have suggestions for you within the hour.” The colonel bowed.

King Leopold waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, go. Now. And hurry. We have no time to lose.” The minute the colonel bowed again and then exited the chambers, the king turned to Lord Burhardt. “Issue a statement that the princess has the flu and is confined to her quarters. Contact Dr. Latimer and instruct him to come to the palace this morning.”

Lord Burhardt bowed, clicked his heels and left. Lisa waited, praying the king would dismiss her. She needed to contact Pippin Ritter as soon as possible to tell him where the princess was and to pass along the information she’d left for him.

The king slumped down on a huge, ornate chair by the fireplace. The queen came to him, leaned over the chair and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Please rest, my dear.” Queen Muriel patted her husband tenderly. “Adele will be found and returned home. All will be well.”

The king glanced at Lisa. “She told me that she didn’t love Dedrick. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Some romantic nonsense. I assured her that she would grow to care for Dedrick. The man has several sterling qualities. He’s intelligent, quick-witted, charming, and his bloodlines are pure. I refuse to believe that it’s anything more than prewedding jitters with Adele.”

Lisa remained quiet, aware that she had no right to voice an opinion. She thought Dedrick was only fairly intelligent, and he was seldom charming except when in the king’s presence. Those who knew him well were aware that he drank to excess, gambled and womanized. Hardly sterling qualities.

“Adele told me some ludicrous story about suspecting Dedrick of treason,” the king said. “She thinks he’s one of those damn Royalists who wants us to reunite with Balanchine. I told her there was no point in her fabricating lies about him.”

“Sire, what if…what if they aren’t lies?” Lisa expected an outraged cry from the king, but instead he simply stared at her as if she were speaking in an alien tongue.

“You’re dismissed,” the king said. “If you hear from Adele… Never mind. She won’t telephone the palace.”

Lisa curtsied, then fled as quickly as possible. Once securely locked in her private quarters in the princess’s wing of the palace, she used her cell phone to contact Vice Chancellor Ritter. He needed to know what had happened and that the princess would be sending and receiving messages through her friend, Dia Constantine.

Adele sipped at the pink champagne as she lounged in the drawing room of Chateau Gustel thirty kilometers outside Vienna. The house and grounds would be considered large by most people’s standards, but in comparison to the palace and royal grounds in Erembourg, the estate was rather small. But it was quite comfortable, with an adequate staff. And Yves had been utterly charming these past three days. They’d had such fun flying off to Paris yesterday for a divine shopping spree. No one had had any idea that the kooky redhead on Yves’s arm was actually the princess of Orlantha. Being incognito was proving to be amazingly exciting. But she couldn’t hide out here with Yves indefinitely. It was only a matter of time before someone discovered her whereabouts. But for now she was safe. Living outside Orlantha, there wasn’t much she could do to help Pippin and his trusted colleagues in their quest to find evidence against Dedrick. But she could buy them all some time by stopping the wedding or at least postponing it until she could show her father hard proof of Dedrick’s disloyalty.

Yves breezed into the room, a newspaper under his arm and a quirky smile on his handsome face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You have a silly expression on your face.”

“We’ve been found out,” he replied.

“What?” Adele spilled a drop of champagne on her silk trousers as she rose from the settee.

Yves opened the paper and read to her, “Rumor has it that Princess Adele of Orlantha, reported to be in bed with the flu at the palace in Erembourg, is in actuality cavorting about Paris with none other than that bon vivant Yves Jurgen. Now, why would the engaged princess be traveling with a man other than her fiancé, Dedrick Vardan, Duke of Roswald?” Yves sighed dramatically. “The article goes on and on, but you get the idea. I’m afraid we’ve blown your cover, chère.”

“That means it’s only a matter of time before someone figures out I’m here in Vienna with you.”

“We can pack our bags and head out for the Riviera whenever you say. This evening. Tomorrow.”

Adele shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. Everyone in Europe knows you. And apparently they recognize me, even in a red wig. I’m less likely to be recognized if I’m alone.”

Yves tsk-tsked. “I hate the idea of your being out there alone. What will you do if—”

“I’ll make arrangements to fly to Golnar in the morning,” Adele said. “I’ll phone Dia to let her know I’ll need sanctuary with Theo and her a little sooner than I’d planned.”

“I’ll be sad to see you leave, dear heart. You’re such an entertaining companion.” Yves popped Adele gently on the nose. “I had made plans for us to meet some trusted friends for an intimate dinner tonight, but—”

“Don’t change your plans,” she told him. “I’ll be busy packing and preparing for my trip to Golnar.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? If you’d rather I stay here with you, I’ll be more than glad to cancel.”

“I’ll be perfectly all right here,” she told him. “At least for tonight. I doubt that anyone on my father’s staff will be able to come up with the information about this estate in the next twenty-four hours. After all, the place still belongs to your cousin Jules, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but how did you know the chateau wasn’t mine?”

“Because, Yves, my wicked friend, we both know that you have no money of your own and depend on relatives and wealthy older ladies to support you.”

Yves clutched his chest and groaned. “I have shared too many of my secrets with you, chère.”

“And I with you.”

Grinning, Yves lifted her hand and kissed it. “Then it is good that we trust each other, is it not?”

Dedrick rolled over in bed and stretched. The loud banging on the door had awakened him from a peaceful sleep. The voluptuous creature lying next to him roused, eased out of bed, slipped on a silk robe and headed for the door.

“Ask who it is,” Dedrick told Vanda. “I can’t have anyone finding me here.”

“Don’t worry,” Vanda said, a devilish smile on her pretty face. “You can hide under the covers.”

She cracked the door a fraction and peered through the opening. Before she could stop the man, he shoved the door open wide and knocked her aside as he entered her room at Madame Pellonia’s, the most exclusive brothel in all of Orlantha.

“You fool!” the man shouted at Dedrick. “What if someone sees you here? Then the whole world will know why the princess doesn’t want to marry you.”

Dedrick rose from the bed leisurely, totally unconcerned with his friend’s outrage. “You worry too much.”

The intruder glowered at Vanda. “Leave us!”

Vanda frowned and looked to Dedrick for instructions.

He waved a dismissal. “Go. Go.”

Vanda huffed, then stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Dedrick dressed, taking his time as his friend glared at him, his arms crossed over his chest.

“We must go to the palace immediately. The king has hired an American private detective to find the princess and return her to Orlantha. You should be at King Leopold’s side, showing your support and concern. If he becomes the least bit suspicious—”

“Ah, but that’s your job, isn’t it? To waylay any suspicions.”

“Princess Adele actually told her father that she believed you were a Royalist.”

Dedrick laughed. “I’m sure dear papa didn’t believe her. Why would anyone suspect me?”

“If your wedding to the princess is canceled, we will have no choice but to eliminate her and leave the king without an heir. We prefer to take over Orlantha by peaceful means. The Balanchine army is half the size of Orlantha’s army. Once you become the prince consort, you will wield great power and can put many of our people in strategic positions within the government. And in time we will see to it that you become king of both Orlantha and Balanchine.”

“I would hate to lose the chance for a wedding night with Adele. She’s such a delicious little creature.”

“Is that all you think about?”

“I think about many things,” Dedrick said. “I think that once I am king of both Orlantha and Balanchine, you will not speak to me in such a manner.”

“Once you are king, no, I will speak to you with due respect. But until that day—” the intruder grabbed Dedrick’s lapels and glared directly into his eyes “—I am in charge. You will do as I say. Is that understood?”

Dedrick took a deep breath, clutched the other man’s hands and removed them from his coat. “I understand perfectly.”

“Good. Then go to the palace and assure King Leopold that you adore Adele and want nothing more than to be her husband.”

Dedrick grinned. “What if this American detective can’t find Adele?”

“My sources tell me that his firm is the best in the business. He will find her. It seems the princess was spotted with Yves Jurgen in Paris yesterday. This detective’s agency is tracking her down as we speak. And when he leaves Orlantha to go after her, two of our men will follow him and make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Matt’s flight landed at the Vienna International Airport Holzbauer with only a twenty-minute delay. His rental car, a four-door silver Opel Omega, was ready and waiting for him. He’d spent enough time on airplanes these past few days to rack up quite a few frequent-flyer miles. Of course, Dundee picked up the tab for his flights, since all of them were work related. Ellen Denby, Dundee’s CEO, had shot to hell his plans for a week of R&R in Paris. She’d phoned him only hours after Worth Cordell had taken a flight out of Roissy Charles de Gaulle, winging his way home to the good old U.S.A. Ellen had pointed out to Matt that he was already in Europe, only a short flight from Orlantha, so it would be foolish to send another agent to take the assignment. He’d tried to beg off. He should have known better. Ellen wasn’t the type who could be persuaded or pressured; she was the type who expected her orders to be obeyed without question.

He had to admit that, even though he really hadn’t wanted this assignment, he was curious as to why the lovely Princess Adele had flown the coop only a month before her wedding. During his interview with King Leopold, His Majesty had cited a case of premarital jitters as the reason his daughter had run away. But after sizing up the situation—and meeting the Duke of Roswald—Matt had drawn his own conclusions. Dedrick Vardan was a horse’s ass. Pompous. Arrogant. Condescending. And come to think of it, the wannabe prince looked a bit like a horse. Or maybe more like a mule. But the guy sure knew how to play the king like a fiddle. And Lord Burhardt had sent cold chills up Matt’s spine. His gut instincts warned him that the man would be dangerous if crossed. Then there was Colonel Rickard, who seemed to resent the fact that he hadn’t been put in charge of returning the princess to the fold. The king had told Matt he wanted his daughter returned to the palace, and gave him permission to use whatever means necessary to bring her home.

After taking a look at faxed photos of Yves Jurgen that Dundee had sent, along with more information on the man than Matt actually needed, it was easy to see why the princess had run away from Dedrick and straight into Yves’s waiting arms. Hell, Yves Jurgen was a damn pretty boy, and from his “rap sheet” he knew everything there was to know about women—how to please them and keep them coming back for more. Matt’s guess was that Princess Adele had run away for one last fling with her former lover before tying the knot with old mule face.

It really didn’t matter to him why the princess had run away. She was nothing more than an assignment to him. Dundee contacts in Austria had tracked Yves and her to an estate outside Vienna, so it was only a matter of time before he knocked on the door, introduced himself and told the princess that she’d been caught. He hoped she didn’t put up a fuss or that her lover didn’t do something stupid. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so he could return to Paris and pick up where he’d left off with a delectable blonde named Chantel.

Adele ate dinner alone at the chateau after making reservations to fly to Golnar in the morning. She had already packed, except for toiletry items, her pajamas and the outfit she’d wear tomorrow. When she’d phoned her best friend, Dia Constantine, Dia had told Adele that she and Theo would gladly provide a sanctuary for her. Dia was an old boarding school classmate who had become her best friend despite the differences in their backgrounds. Dia was the product of a marriage between a stodgy English barrister and his free-spirited Greek wife. A statuesque beauty with jet-black hair and luminescent silver eyes, Dia had captured the attention and then the heart of Greek tycoon Theo Constantine when they’d met at a party at the royal palace in Erembourg. The two had been married for eight years and had one child. Adele was Phila’s godmother and she adored the seven-year-old with a passion.

Adele would have gone straight to Golnar when she escaped from the palace, but it would have been the first place her father would have thought of when he discovered her missing. If he’d caught her en route, he would have forced her to return to Orlantha, and no government would have dared offend the king. Of course, if she made it to Golnar, he would be powerless to force her to return. Golnar, a small island nation between Greece and Cyprus, had no diplomatic ties to Orlantha, and since Theo’s wealth gave him unlimited power over local politics, the authorities would hardly allow a guest of his to be taken against her will.

No matter what, she simply had to give Pippin and his friends time to gather evidence against Dedrick. If that meant staying in Golnar for a year, then so be it.

As Adele listened to a tape of Tchaikovsky’s concertos and drank her after-dinner demitasse, she heard a ruckus at the front door.

“Please, sir, no!” the butler called out in his native German language. “Stop right now, or I shall be forced to call the police.”

“My German’s a little rusty,” a man’s voice said. “But I understand that you’re threatening to call the police. Go right ahead. Be my guest.”

Adele tensed. The doors to the drawing room swung open. A tall, black-haired man wearing faded jeans and a weathered leather bomber jacket stormed into the room, the butler on his heels. Adele’s heartbeat accelerated. Who was this stranger? Whoever he was he spoke English, not German or French.

Adele rose from the sofa and confronted the unwanted guest.

“I tried to stop him,” the butler said. “Should I call the police?”

The last thing Adele wanted to deal with was the local authorities. If she involved the police, there was no telling what tomorrow’s headlines would read. And she’d certainly be shipped home immediately once it was discovered that King Leopold expected her to return.

“No, don’t telephone the police.” She shook her head, then turned to her uninvited guest. “Who are you and what do you want?”

He stared at her, surveying her from head to toe. A shiver of uneasiness fluttered up Adele’s spine. There was something sensual about the way he looked at her with those incredible blue eyes.

“I’m Matt O’Brien, with the Dundee Security and Investigation Agency.”

Adele’s stomach tightened. “What business do you have here at Chateau Gustel? If you want to see Yves, I’m afraid he’s out for the evening. If you’ll leave your card, I’ll—”

“My business is with you, Princess.”

He knew who she was. This didn’t bode well for her. “And what business do you have with me, sir?”

“I’m here to escort you home to Orlantha.”

“I see.” So, who had hired this private investigator—her father or Dedrick? And how was she going to get herself out of this predicament? She’d been so sure that no one would find her here at the chateau, at least not for several days.

The butler cleared his throat. “Your Highness, is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you. That will be all. I can take care of this matter.”

Once the butler left, Adele smiled warmly at Matt O’Brien. “Won’t you take a seat, Mr. O’Brien?”

“No, ma’am, thank you.”

“For whom are you working, my father or—”

“King Leopold retained the Dundee Agency, and since I was the only agent already in Europe, I drew this assignment.”

“I’m surprised that my father used an American firm. You are American, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And what will you do if I choose not to return to Orlantha with you?” Show this hired henchman that you’re not afraid of him, she told herself. Let him know that taking you back to your father will not be something easily accomplished.

“I’m hoping you won’t put up a fuss.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. “But my orders are to take you home, even if I have to hog-tie you, put you in a sack and toss you over my shoulder.”

Adele gasped. Apparently, this American had not been taught the proper respect for someone in her position—a princess, the heir to the throne of Orlantha. “If you lay one hand on me, you…you brute, I shall see that you’re—”

He laughed. A loud, boisterous laugh. Adele cringed. Damn insolent cretin! How dare he treat her in such a manner.

“Look, Little Miss Royal Runaway, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you. But you can be sure of one thing—I’m taking your highfalutin fanny home to Daddy.”