By Royal Demand

During the last year Sara had cudgelled her brain, trying to think of just such a reason, and the only one she could come up with was that the Illyrian woman had believed an upstart nobody to be completely unsuitable for her lord’s wife.

She was probably right.

The flames in the fireplace sprang high, then collapsed, and a faint, familiar scent reminded Sara of apples. Prunings from the orchards she’d seen beneath the helicopter, she thought, clinging to that simple sweetness in a room filled with fear and tension.

Oppressed by the weight of centuries of history, of death and war and disillusionment within the walls of the castle, she said flatly, ‘I’m sorry it was stolen, but I had nothing to do with it.’

Gabe drank some wine, then put his glass down with a sharp movement that set the golden liquid surging in the flute. ‘I don’t believe Marya took it because she was the one who hid the necklace when my grandparents abandoned the castle.’

Astonished, she stared at him. She knew the story. The general of the revolutionary army—a man whose violence had been legendary—had threatened to kill every person in the valley if the castle was defended. Gabe’s grandparents had slipped away in the night and joined the partisans, fighting in the mountains until they eventually died in an ambush.

In a thin voice she said, ‘Is that why you wanted her to be my maid?’

‘Partly. She asked if she could be when she heard that we were engaged. I suggested it to you because she was my grandmother’s maid, and I suppose it satisfied something in me to have her take care of you and your clothes.’

Sara bit her lip.

‘Yes,’ he said sardonically, answering her unspoken response. ‘You chose the wrong person to frame, Sara. Marya would never have stolen the necklace because she spent forty years protecting it at huge personal cost to herself and her family. She endured everything because she was loyal and because she understands the necklace’s enormous symbolic value.’

‘Is that why you’re so determined to find it?’ At least she could now understand why Gabe was so sure of Marya’s innocence. Not that it helped. ‘Does it confer some sort of divine right to rule on whoever holds it?’

‘No,’ Gabe said deliberately, surveying her with hooded, scornful eyes. ‘I’m trying to explain why I know Marya didn’t steal it. Whereas you lied to me and betrayed me. Give me one reason why I should believe you.’

Humiliation leached the colour from her skin. She stumbled over her next words, then caught her breath and forced herself to repeat stubbornly, ‘I didn’t lie or betray you.’

‘All I want is the Queen’s Blood,’ Gabe responded indifferently, making it more than obvious he didn’t believe her.

So what else was new?

He went on, ‘It’s an heirloom of my house, and I want it back again. Then you’ll be free to go.’

The beautiful, fabulous object, rich with history and tragedy and glamour, had shattered her heart. Gabe valued it more than he’d valued her, and his so-called love hadn’t withstood the suspicion that had swirled around her after the necklace had disappeared.

Sara dragged in a slow, jagged breath. ‘I wish you had it,’ she said, pain thinning her voice, ‘but I don’t know what happened to it and I can’t tell you where it is. I’m sorry.’

‘Won’t tell me.’ His voice was controlled and impersonal, as though he was discussing a business deal. ‘I’m prepared to pay you the value of the Queen’s Blood for information about its whereabouts.’ He named an amount that horrified her.

Sara closed her eyes. Just how far would he take this? ‘I don’t know where it is,’ she repeated dully.

‘The offer stands. It’s considerably more than you’ll get from breaking up the necklace and selling the stones on the black market. And much more than you’ll get from a collector who knows you don’t dare offer it legally.’ He picked up his glass and drank some of the champagne, his long fingers tanned and strong against the delicate transparency of the crystal stem.

They’d always been exquisitely gentle on her body. Sara turned away as memories exploded in intimate, painfully acute clarity. She tried to wall them off, but her skin tightened at the recollection of the heat of his sleek, bronzed hide against hers, the power and the rapture of impassioned hours locked in his arms, and the transcendent ecstasy of his possession.

A subtle, hidden softening deep inside her shocked her into awareness of her danger. Bitterly she forced the seductive images to the back of her mind. Oh, he’d been a magnificent lover, but he’d instantly believed that she’d stolen the necklace.

Now she understood why, but his reasons simply underlined the fragility of their relationship. For all its fire and flash and transient ecstasy, love had opened her to an anguish that would scar her for life.

‘I can’t help you. I’ll leave now,’ she said quietly, clutching at a composure so brittle she was afraid it would splinter at his next insulting word.

‘You’re not going anywhere.’ His reasonable tone warred with the determination she saw in his handsome face.

Tension knotted inside her. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth when she said, ‘You can’t keep me here, and you know it.’

‘You’ll stay here until I find out what you’ve done with the necklace,’ he told her with uncompromising decision. His implacable eyes kindled, and she realised with a cold clenching of her heart that he meant it.

Dry-mouthed, she protested, ‘That’s kidnapping.’

‘You can go as soon as the necklace is in my hands.’

She cast him a glance of mingled shock and distrust. ‘I don’t imagine your cousin would be happy to learn that you’re holding me prisoner.’

His expression darkened, but he said coolly, ‘I’ll worry about Alex if and when I have to.’

‘You’re being completely crazy!’ She tried to infuse her voice with crisp scorn. ‘And I’m not going to put up with it. Your ancestors might have been able to shut up anyone who offended them in the dungeons, but this is a different world.’

Back held so stiffly she thought she could feel her spine cracking, she swung on her heel and set off for the door. She’d only taken two steps when he stopped her with a hand on her upper arm, one smooth, decisive movement swinging her around to face him.

Every treacherous sense quivered at the faint, intensely masculine scent that was solely his, an evocative sexual promise that set her heart racing. Her stomach clenched as she shivered at the electricity that poured through her, destroying defences she’d been so sure would never be breached again.

In a cracked voice she muttered, ‘Gabe, be sensible! You can’t do this!’

‘Who’s going to stop me? You?’ His smile was a masterpiece of cold irony.

Before she could formulate an answer he bent his head and kissed her, his mouth demanding the response she dared not give. But although she could keep her lips clamped tightly together, she couldn’t control the spontaneous, involuntary betrayal of her body.

Of course he understood each sensual signal. He knew her too well not to recognise the quickening pulse-rate, the heat that stung her lips and skin, the bemused, sultry droop of long lashes over dazed green eyes as she fought her reckless surrender.

And his body reciprocated with fierce awareness, a forceful tension that sent more electricity sizzling through her. Whatever he thought of her, believed her to be, he wasn’t immune to the dangerous primal chemistry that raged between them.

The kiss hardened into urgency, and her willpower snapped. On a muffled groan she lifted her arms and reached for him, desperate to enjoy for a few seconds more that sense of utter security she’d always felt when he’d held her, as though nothing and nobody could ever hurt her again.

He pulled her into the powerful planes and angles of his big, lithe body, imprinting her with his need while his mouth plundered hers in a blaze of carnal pleasure.

For a few precious moments she let herself savour the potent sensation of her breasts crushed against him, the strong arm that held her hips clamped to his. And then he lifted his head.

Muttering something in a harsh, jagged voice, he dropped his arms and stepped back, a slash of colour along his barbaric cheekbones contrasting with the ice-blue of his narrowed eyes.

He’d spoken in Illyrian, but the words and tone didn’t need any translation. Swallowing to ease her dry throat, she said hoarsely, ‘I couldn’t agree more. Not one of your better ideas.’ Although her lips felt tender, and her body throbbed with unappeased need, she met his eyes defiantly. ‘What were you trying to prove?’

‘Don’t push your luck,’ he said roughly. ‘You have no power here, Sara.’

She shrugged and turned blindly away, only to trip over the edge of a chair. Instantly he caught her by the arm.

‘Are you all right?’ She didn’t answer, and his grip tightened to give her a slight shake. ‘Answer me, Sara.’

When she winced theatrically he loosened his grip, but didn’t let her go. Adrenalin pumped through her and her muscles tightened as she weighed up her chances of getting away if she kneed him in the groin or clawed at his eyes.

A metallic gleam in his eyes warned her that he knew what she was thinking. In spite of her fitness she had no hope of matching his lean, virile strength.

‘Try it,’ he invited softly. ‘Try me, Sara.’

His words ricocheted around her brain, momentarily silencing her. Mesmerised, she stared at him while time stretched; she could sense his readiness, his formidable confidence. Tension hummed like electricity between them, taut with unspoken hunger.

She had to get out of this! She searched for words, but when they came they were thin and ineffectual. ‘You tried me, Gabe, and condemned me without a hearing.’

‘I heard a pack of lies,’ he said indifferently. ‘Try me with the truth.’

She closed her eyes, then forced them open to glare at him. ‘You wouldn’t accept the truth if it hit you in the face! Eventually you’ll have to let me go.’

‘Why?’

When she stared at him he lifted a black brow and smiled.

‘Who would miss you?’ he asked, in a voice that sent chills scudding the length of her spine.

‘Don’t be so stupid! Of course I’d be missed! I have friends….’She lifted her chin and met his implacable gaze, pitiless and unforgiving as Arctic seas. ‘Besides, you don’t want me here.’

‘I think I’ve just shown why I might want you here, always ready, always waiting for me.’

Shock almost robbed her of speech. He was toying with her, she thought valiantly, cruelly manipulating her with his implied threats.

‘Then you’ll have to kill me eventually, because when you let me go the first thing I’ll do is go to the police. And if the police here are so delighted to have their wolf back that they refuse to do anything about it, I’ll contact Interpol. And the press.’

‘Would anyone believe you if you tried to lay charges?’ he asked, burnished eyes opaque and unreadable. ‘No one knows why our engagement was broken; if anyone gets wind of your presence here, they’ll assume we’re trying again. Everyone loves a fairy story, and our engagement had all the right ingredients.’

The fingers on her arm relaxed, slid down to grip her elbow; he urged her across the room, releasing her only to hand back the glass of champagne she’d abandoned.

Sara clutched the glass as though her life depended on it. Hoarsely, she said, ‘This is the twenty-first century and you’re a modern man, not some medieval despot who can get away with murder.’

‘I don’t plan to murder you,’ he said with insulting patience. ‘I intend convincing you that your freedom depends on telling me where the necklace is. Once you’ve done that you can go.’ His mouth compressed into a straight line. ‘And you’ll be rich enough to do what you want, provided you keep out of my way.’

He still had the power to hurt her so badly she could barely breathe. Goaded into defiant indiscretion, she hurled back, ‘I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more. But I don’t know where the wretched necklace is!’

And had to cope with another of those killer silences, seething with unspoken thoughts and hidden emotions.

When he finally spoke it was with a slight sardonic twist to his beautiful mouth. ‘Of course, if money doesn’t work there are always other ways to find out.’

Other ways? One glance at the smouldering depths of his eyes told her what he meant. Now he knew that he could use their potent mutual attraction to seduce her.

And he would, she thought, sickened and horrified. He hated her, but he’d make love to her because he wanted to find the necklace so badly.

Sara panicked. Without thinking, she flung the contents of her glass into his face.

The champagne broke against the granite angles of his face. Appalled at her stupidity, she watched him wipe the liquid away with a handkerchief.

On a broken little gasp she muttered, ‘Oh, hell, I’m sorry,’ and set her glass down.

Gabe balled up his handkerchief and threw it into the grate. Dispassionately he watched it burn, then smiled, and her heart shuddered.

‘It amuses me, the contrast between your elegant, composed face and that passionate, sensuous mouth,’ he said urbanely, his perfect control of English subtly affected so that the sentence had an alien intonation. ‘You look every inch an aristocrat—serene, well-bred, completely in control—and I liked knowing that in my arms, in my bed, you turned into a wildcat—reckless and sexy and elemental.’

Stunned by his words, she stared into his face. Their eyes clashed in primeval combat. Gabe smiled, his dark face compelling in its vengeful strength, and came towards her. Sara’s breath stopped in her throat as she tried to struggle free of the dark spell he’d always been able to cast.

But she left it too late. Even as she twisted to run, his hands closed over her shoulders, and he pulled her into his aroused body.

Heat engulfed her—heat and fire and an untamed, erotic craving that terrified her.

‘It’s still there, damn you,’ he said between his teeth, and he lowered his head and kissed her again.

And she fought him again, furious at her body’s betrayal of her mind and her heart, until the unsparing mastery of his lips summoned a reckless need that consumed everything else in its clamour for satisfaction.

He slid one hand up behind her head, strong fingers working smoothly against her sensitive scalp as he gentled the kiss, and she sighed into his mouth, shivering with pleasure. The smooth touch of his fingers on the back of her head sent arrows of intense delight through every cell in her body; too late, she realised that he was loosening the pins that held her sleek chignon in place. Her hair fell in a warm, heavy mass around her neck and shoulders, adding a sensuous friction to the explosions along her nerves already caused by his addictive mouth and deft hands.

He moved slightly, accommodating her eager body in the cradle of his hips. The appetite he’d unleashed in her increased exponentially at the hard evidence of his arousal. She had to grit her teeth and jerk her head away to stop herself from pressing against him and giving up on the futile struggle to keep her sanity.

Each kiss, each caress, was an exercise in power, she thought frantically: he was showing her how easily he could have her.

Desperately she gasped, ‘No!’

CHAPTER FOUR

THE shifting, flexing muscles in Gabe’s torso and arms locked into stasis.

Sara looked up into blue eyes glittering with lust and saw him reimpose control with an effortless ease that was like a blow to the heart.

Yes, he’d been testing her.

She forced words between her lips, wincing when she heard her voice, husky and rough with a longing she couldn’t hide. ‘You don’t have to pretend that you want me, Gabe. I don’t have any information to give you, so this seduction routine isn’t going to achieve anything.’

‘Beyond using up surplus energy?’ he said brutally, but he released her, turning away as though her violent, unwilling response had sickened him.

As it probably had.

It had certainly sickened her. She looked down at her trembling hands and said tonelessly, ‘I’ve had enough. I’m leaving right now.’

‘You’re not going anywhere.’

Sara marshalled words in her mind, words that might convince him that this was an exercise in futility—and a dangerous exercise at that. Her surrender had been humiliating enough, but what really frightened her was that he’d wanted her almost as much as she’d wanted him. His belief that she’d stolen the ruby necklace should have killed that wildfire hunger completely.

She hated being so vulnerable!

Oh, she was entirely safe from falling in love with him again. Once was enough, she thought bitterly.

But wanting him—that was an entirely different matter.

Even when she’d believed that he’d loved her, the intensity of passion had alarmed her; it had felt like handing her whole self over to him.

Numbly she blurted, ‘If I were a thief I’d have taken the money you just offered me.’

‘Not if you were planning to hold out for more,’ he said coolly. ‘If I’d accepted that Marya had stolen the necklace, you’d have had both the money you got for selling it and an intact engagement, with eventual access to my bank account when we married. By your reckoning, you’ve missed out.’

‘That is a foul thing to say,’ she retorted, shoring up her composure with anger, only to tamp it down because it wouldn’t get her anywhere. She drew in a jagged breath and tried reason. ‘Gabe, holding me prisoner isn’t going to work because I don’t know anything about the theft. For the same reason, seducing me won’t achieve anything. Acting like one of your robber baron ancestors might satisfy your need for revenge, but it won’t get you what you want.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t want revenge,’ he said briefly, and poured more champagne into her glass, his angular, clever face reflective.

Hope warmed into life inside her. Perhaps her refusal of his insulting offer had begun to—oh, not to convince him, not yet, but make him wonder if he might be wrong about her? This whole situation was so unlike him. Although he had a reputation for dangerous manoeuvres, his career had been marked by a keen intelligence that carefully calculated every risk.

Until they’d met. And now, this kidnapping…

‘You could let me go,’ she said quietly, knowing that if he did it would be another, final ending. She’d never see him again except in the newspapers and on television. ‘I won’t tell anyone what happened.’

His expression hardened into cynicism. ‘Nothing’s happened, Sara. And you can stop looking at me with those wide, scared eyes. I don’t plan to torture the truth out of you, or lock you in a dungeon for the rest of your life.’

‘So what do you intend to do?’ she shot back.

He handed her the champagne flute, seemingly not aware of the way her breath caught in her throat when their fingers touched.

Picking up his own glass, he said abruptly, ‘I’ll make a deal with you. If you didn’t have anything to do with stealing the Queen’s Blood, you might still know something that would help—some scrap of information that doesn’t seem important, something that will lead to the thieves. We’ll go over what you recall, and if at the end of the week nothing comes of it then you can go.’

She crushed a spark of angry rebellion. Gabe was arrogantly playing with her life, ordering it to suit himself because she didn’t have the power to prevent him. But that last offer sounded as though he was prepared to compromise.

Dared she trust him? She scanned his handsome, enigmatic face.

No way.

Yet it would soothe some yearning part of her if she could persuade him that she had nothing to do with the theft. Warily, she said, ‘I don’t—’

He cut her off, his expression brooking no further shilly-shallying. ‘Just give me an answer, Sara.’

She said coldly, ‘I have no choice, do I?’

‘No.’

‘I think I’d rather be a prisoner than go through the pretence of being a guest and helping you with your enquiries.’ She loaded the phrase with sarcasm. ‘At least that would be honest. But if it will convince you that I truly don’t know anything, I’m game. And of course I’ll work on the bedrooms as well. However, what will happen at the end of the week when I’ve come up with nothing?’

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