In Pursuit of a Princess

“I didn’t see anyone, and Herbert has already gone home so we can’t ask him.”

“Maybe we can call him. He might have taken the package.” Gabriel wanted to reassure the girl. “I’m trying to piece things together before we call the police.”

“The police?” Lara glared at him and shook her head. “I told you, no police. My head of security—”

A door down the hallway burst open and a tall bull of a man with tight graying curls muscled his way into the room. “Your Highness, we’ve alerted the team. We’ve got guards stationed all around the property.”

“—is here right now.” Lara moved away from the offending package but waved her hand toward it. “Thank you, Malcolm. There it is. This is what all the fuss is about. Quite silly, honestly.”

Malcolm glanced at the voodoo doll, then turned to stare at Gabriel. “What’s your take?”

Gabriel lifted his eyebrows, surprised that anyone cared about his thoughts on this. He didn’t want to be involved in whatever was going on. He’d already met Malcolm Plankston through a thorough vetting interview that had left him wondering if the man would even let him go on with his assignment. Apparently, he’d been approved. “I take it very seriously,” he said. “I’ve encouraged Princess Lara to call the police.”

“And I’ve discouraged that notion,” Lara retorted. “It’s another of those odd pranks people tend to play on me. Some of the locals don’t appreciate my interest in rebuilding New Orleans. They tend to forget that I lived here for many years myself.”

“I agree with Mr. Murdock,” Malcolm said. “The authorities need to hear about this. You’ve stirred up publicity with this art fundraiser and the public knows you’re here. You’re vulnerable.”

“No,” Lara said, shaking her head. “The local police will laugh in my face and tell me this is just someone’s way of welcoming me home. You know how they scorn my presence here. They think I’m just another celebrity wanting media attention. I won’t bring them in on this and that’s final.”

Gabriel knew not to argue with a woman who stood tapping her expensive-looking leather pump against the polished wood floor. And he knew not to overstep his position by urging her head of security to go against her wishes.

Malcolm lifted the doll with a pair of tweezers that somehow appeared out of nowhere. Probably from inside Deidre’s deep pockets. The woman kept pulling things out of each one like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat.

“Odd little thing,” Malcolm said, his mustache twitching while he seemed to stop blinking. “I’ll take it out to the shop and analyze it, but I think it’s harmless.” He dropped the doll, then turned to the princess. “I won’t call in the New Orleans police this time, Your Highness. But if anything else out of the ordinary occurs, I will have to do my duty and report it.”

“Agreed,” Lara replied, clearly relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with anyone else official tonight. “I promise I’ll keep you apprised. Deidre and I will be diligent on that account, I can assure you.”

Malcolm cast a furrowed glance toward Deidre. “I assume you will make sure this never happens again.”

Deidre’s eyes misted. “You have my word on that, sir.”

“Good,” Malcolm the Intimidator said in his firm, gruff, no-nonsense voice. “Your position here could very well depend on it.”

Lara walked around the desk and took Deidre’s hand. “It’s all right. You are not going to be dismissed. Go on to bed and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

Deidre rushed out of the room, her brown ponytail bouncing, her walnut-colored loafers squeaking.

Lara had a serene look on her face when she reached out her left hand and placed it on Malcolm’s gray wool suit. “Don’t ever reprimand Deidre in that way again, Mr. Plankston. Do I make myself clear?”

Malcolm swallowed, gulped and nodded. “I meant no disrespect, ma’am.”

“Good night, Malcolm.”

And the man was officially dismissed.

Which left Gabriel alone with a princess. An ice princess.

“Impressive,” he said, rocking back and forth on his boots. “I’ll have to remember not to get on your bad side.”

She gave him an emerald-tinged stare. “Deidre has been with me since the day I married Theo. She’s a dear girl—not much younger than me, really—a bit shy but very efficient. I won’t have Malcolm bullying her since his team seemed to have entirely missed this delivery’s arrival. He knows this wasn’t her fault. I’m the one who insisted on relaxing my security while I’m here. I’m the one who wanted a little more privacy and a lot less formality.”

Gabriel could understand her need for privacy, and he was pretty sure she should learn to relax a little more. But she was a princess, after all. “You’re known the world over. Privacy is a hard commodity to come by, especially when someone as famous and well loved as you comes to New Orleans. That’s the proverbial fishbowl way of living, Your Highness.”

“That is a way of living that I have found very wearisome, Mr. Murdock. And please, call me Lara.”

“As long as you call me Gabriel,” he reminded her with a soft twist of a smile. “And it’s time for me to go, too. Are you sure—”

“I’m fine. If I know Malcolm, he’ll have a guard at the front door to make sure you get out safely and I stay in safely. I’ll show you out.”

She walked him to the door, her heels clicking in a dainty princess way. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That’s the plan.” He turned and took her hand. “Thank you for tea and dinner and...a bit of excitement.”

“Don’t get used to that,” she said on a soft smile. “My life is not as exciting as the world might think.”

Gabriel bid her good-night, thinking she was wrong on that.

And as he tipped his hand to the burly guard hovering on the front veranda, he was pretty sure the excitement was just beginning.

* * *

Lara sat at her dressing table in her upstairs bedroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. With no makeup and her hair down around her shoulders, she looked drawn and fatigued. Not exactly the image the world wanted to see.

She didn’t care about that right now. She only saw the shadow of a mourning widow in her gilded mirror. And so much more. How did she explain to the world that she was tired of being a princess and that she only wanted to be herself, free and unencumbered by rules and protocol and regulations and proper procedures?

Lara turned from her brocade-covered stool and tugged her cashmere robe around her. It was early spring in the South, but the nights could still be cool. She paced over the hundred-year-old, hand-woven rug centered in the sitting area of the big, comfortable bedroom then went to the French doors and stared out into the back garden. Her mind fluttered here and there like a butterfly.

Esther and Cullen had gotten married right here in the garden. She’d insisted on giving them a reception to remember, and they’d pulled it off without too many problems with the media. Friends of a princess getting married didn’t carry nearly as much weight as a princess getting married. Or remarried. The tabloids had a new story every week on that one. By the latest count, she should have been remarried about four times at least.

But she had yet even to go out with a man, let alone consider marrying one.

She thought of Gabriel Murdock and felt a strange tapping in her heart. He was certainly handsome in a swarthy, swaggering way. The man looked like a map of life, world-weary and scarred, well traveled and frayed, and interesting.

Too interesting. When he’d taken her hand, a pleasant warmth had moved through her and reminded her she was still a woman.

Her cell hummed. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“I got your invitation.”

“And I got your gift. You can’t scare me.”

“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to help you.”

“By threatening me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Lara put her hand to her heart. “Good, because you have the answers I need, so I won’t fall for any tricks. I’ll see you at the gala.” She let out a breath. “And please quit making hang-up calls. It’s juvenile.”

“Is that all you have to say after all this time, Lara?”

“Yes. Good night.”

Lara moved around the room, turning off lamps, her hands trembling. She kept going back over the day’s activities, wondering how that package had gotten past security. And wondering how he had found her private cell number.

Putting her unwanted guest out of her mind for now, Lara regrouped and looked at her day-planner. Today had been busy, but tomorrow would be jam-packed. And she’d have Gabriel Murdock trailing her with every task. Was she really ready for that kind of up-close scrutiny? And by a man who seemed to read her like a book and look through her carefully controlled facade to see her deepest, darkest fears and secrets?

She thought about the man who’d just called her. It had been a long time since she’d seen him or heard from him. And she’d been biding her time until she could see him once again. “I can do this,” she whispered. “I have to do this.”

A shudder tiptoed down her spine.

“Remain calm and carry on,” she repeated. That used to be a joke between Theo and her. It was the mantra of a great queen and it did apply to the average commoner, too.

“That’s me,” Lara whispered as she climbed in bed and tugged at the last light. The room went dark on her fears and worries. She’d been a commoner, but a wealthy, well-heeled one at that. Money and prestige could open a lot of doors. Having a social pedigree that went back to the founding fathers didn’t hurt, either. But even so, when the announcement of her marriage had been made, she’d been analyzed, studied, prodded and trained in everything from etiquette to speaking in public to greeting people to writing a proper thank-you card, all of which her mother had already trained her on anyway.

Being a princess was much harder than being a woman.

Right now, however, she mentally pushed her princess away and, being a woman, thought about the fascinating man with whom she’d shared her dinner. And wondered why she’d invited him to stay for a meal. That hadn’t been on the agenda.

But then, neither had receiving that hideous gift. The voodoo doll only brought back bad memories of other times when she’d been afraid and full of doubts. Maybe this had nothing to do with that. Or it could have everything to do with that and the phone call she’d just received. She missed Theo, but she was determined to live life on her own terms. And she was determined to find answers to the questions that had haunted her since Theo’s death.

Obviously, after receiving that cryptic call, she understood the little voodoo doll had something to do with her nosing around where she shouldn’t.

Lara punched her pillow, hating this time of the day when she felt so alone, so lonely, so unsure of anything but how much she missed her husband. Telling herself to get a grip, she pushed out of her mind that image of the little grinning doll with the pin stabbed through her heart.

“You can’t pierce my heart,” she whispered to the night. “My heart has already been broken.”

But she intended to find the man who’d killed Theo. And she intended to do that here in New Orleans, with the world watching.

She drifted off to sleep thinking of her husband and Gabriel Murdock. Trying to hold one close in her memories and trying to push the other one back into a proper place, she finally went from being awake to being in a dream that ran through her head like a vivid movie, complete with voodoo and warnings from Deidre and Malcolm and with a man standing in the shadows, holding a camera.

The man called to her and Lara tried to reach him. He threw down the camera and reached out a hand. But she couldn’t quite grasp his fingers.

She woke up near dawn thinking of her husband.

But the man in the dream had been Gabriel Murdock.

Lara lay there pushing at the covers, her body still exhausted from running through that mist, her memories as wild and colorful as the images in her mind.

A piercing scream sounded through the night, bringing her up and out of her bed. Grabbing her robe, Lara rushed to her door and followed the hallway to the sound of the scream.

Deidre’s room.

But before Lara could open the door, Malcolm and two bodyguards were there with guns drawn.

“Step back, Your Highness,” Malcolm said, his beefy arm blocking her way. “It might not be safe.”

He knocked and called out. “Deidre?”

No answer.

“Go and check on her,” Lara demanded, impatient with the head of security.

Malcolm motioned to the two guards. They were about to break the door down when Deidre opened it and ran straight into Lara’s arms.

“What happened?” Lara asked, holding the younger woman.

Deidre lifted up, her dark eyes wide, her hair unbound and curly around her face. “I heard a noise on the upstairs balcony, ma’am. Someone walking, I’m sure. Then I saw a shadow near my window.”

Lara held tight to the frightened girl. “Are you sure?”

Deidre bobbed her head, her words shaky. “Very sure. A man was standing there.”

Malcolm put his big arms across his chest. “So you screamed?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t answer when we came to the door.”

“I was still frightened.”

He motioned again to the two men. “Search the balcony and the grounds.”

Lara took Deidre by the arm, her own jitters making her shaky. “Come with me. We’ll sit awhile and I’ll make us some chamomile tea.”

Deidre looked mortified. “Ma’am, you don’t need to wait on me. I’m...okay.”

“You are not okay,” Lara countered. “Malcolm, we’re going down to the kitchen. Could you make sure a guard is nearby while we brew our tea?”

“Certainly, Your Highness. But please let us secure the house before you wander around.”

Lara nodded. “Deidre, let’s get you a robe from your room.”

The girl followed Lara into the room and stood by the door, staring out into the night. “I saw a man there, Miss Lara. I promise.”

“I believe you,” Lara replied. She helped Deidre with her robe. “Did the man try to get into your room?”

“No. He just stood there. When I screamed, he ran away.”

Lara took in the information but said nothing. She wouldn’t allow Deidre to see her fears. That might put the girl over the edge.

But when they were turning to leave the room, something caught Lara’s eye. “Just a moment, Deidre. Stay there by the door, please.”

Deidre nodded. Lara walked to the open door that led out onto the balcony, careful to stay on the edge of the sheer lace curtains. Peeking around the lace, she saw something through the moonlight, lying there on the planked floor. The guards had rushed right past it. Another package, this one bigger than the first one.

Another delivery. But how in the world had the intruder planned to get that box inside? And what if he’d been looking for her room instead of Deidre’s?

THREE

Gabriel knew something was wrong the minute he rounded the corner the next morning. He’d taken the streetcar to RWN magazine and then walked the rest of the way to the Kincade estate since it was such a gorgeous spring day.

But that notion ended when he saw two NOPD cruisers parked inside the gated driveway and a whole passel of reporters and onlookers stationed outside the closed gate. Pulling out the smaller of his two cameras and his phone, he dialed Deidre’s cell so she could open the gate for him. He held the phone to one ear, clicked away and got some one-handed shots of the cruisers and the growing crowd at the gate.

But Deidre didn’t answer. A male voice greeted him. “Hello?”

“Uh, I was looking for Deidre Wilder. I’m Gabriel Murdock. I have an appointment with Princess Lara this morning.”

“Hold on.” He heard shuffling and voices. “You’re clear. Someone will come and escort you inside.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Gabriel shifted his equipment pack and bypassed the other photographers gathered beyond the gate, then waited where he could see the entryway. When a uniformed officer came out and punched in the code for the walk-through gate next to the driveway, there was a rush of people behind Gabriel.

The officer held up his hand. “Sorry, no one else allowed. This man has special clearance.”

Moans and groans and foul language ensued behind Gabriel, followed by desperate questions: “Was anything stolen last night? Is the princess safe in New Orleans? Why are you here? Was anyone arrested? Will the princess make a statement to the press?”

Gathering that there had been a break-in attempt last night, Gabriel hurried through the gate and didn’t look back at the agitated crowd. He’d been in worse jams. And he did have an official pass, which he flashed at the officer just for good measure.

But getting special treatment had stirred up the paparazzi. He’d probably hear about this in the news later.

“What happened?” he asked the stoic officer, hoping to verify what he’d heard from the reporters at the gate.

“An intruder last night.”

And that would be all he’d get from that one. “Thanks.”

He made his way behind the policeman into the side entrance, where a small porch was tucked behind a heavy canopy of banana fronds. This entryway led to the mudroom and kitchen.

And that was where he found Lara sitting with Deidre.

“Good morning,” he said, glancing around at the guards and police officers. “Brunch?”

Lara got up, her expression as serene as ever, her hair back in its chignon, her light blue linen pantsuit not daring to wrinkle. “We had a scare last night. Deidre saw someone on one of the upstairs balconies, out by her window.” She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “He left another package.”

Not good news. “What was in the package?”

She shrugged, gathered her arms against her stomach. “It’s another oddity.” Motioning toward the breakfast table, she walked him over. “Sit down and I’ll get you some coffee and explain.”

Deidre, looking drawn and unkempt, jumped up. “Let me do that, ma’am.”

Lara nodded, then sank into a cushioned chair. Gabriel sat down across from her. In the bright sunlight coming through the wall-to-wall bay windows that gave a full view of the back garden, she looked tired and...lost. Still lovely, but at least now he knew she was fairly normal. Wasn’t everyone tired and lost anyway?

“The box, Lara?”

She sent a quick glance toward the swarm of men roaming up and down the stairs. “We can’t go up to see it. They’re taking photos and logging it as evidence. And they don’t want us to disturb the scene—which really is only the balcony and the package.”

“So the package is still where someone found it?”

“I saw it after I heard Deidre screaming. It was left on the balcony outside her room.”

She waited until Deidre brought him coffee and a plate with muffins and cheese. The fidgety girl took her own dishes to the sink and busied herself with cleaning the kitchen. Lara continued, “It’s a replica of one of the art pieces I showed you last night. The Benoit.” She stopped, shook her head.

“But?”

She blinked, looked away to the right. “But it’s not really the same portrait. I know it looks familiar but I can’t place it. It’s as if someone is trying to copy the Benoit’s style.”

Gabriel’s instincts kicked in and he got that coiling knot inside his stomach, the knot he always got when he was onto something no one had been expecting. “Did anyone else see this intruder?”

“No. Deidre saw a shadow. The person ran when she screamed.”

“Do you know if Deidre talked to Herbert about the first package?”

Looking surprised, she shook her head. “Deidre mentioned that this morning, but no. He didn’t answer her calls or messages.”

Deidre had brought her the first package last night. No one else had seen that one delivered. And Deidre hadn’t been able to get in touch with the chef last night to see what he might know.

Now Deidre had seen an intruder who’d conveniently left yet another package near her room? Coincidence or carefully planned attack?

Gabriel didn’t believe in coincidences.

No wonder the girl scurried and jumped like a squirrel. She was obviously in on this gig. But why?

“So this replica—what is it? What’s it about?”

Lara leaned forward. “It’s another Arcadian dream. A group of Arcadians gathered by a large boat. The boat is sailing away through clouds and cherubs. Shepherds are watching from the sky. It’s a sad portrait of the hardship the Arcadians had to endure, wrapped inside a beautiful dream.”

He nodded. “Yes. So someone obviously knows you own a Benoit. And that it’s worth close to a million dollars.”

She lifted her chin in acknowledgment. “Yes. This one reminds me of that. Same technique, same dreamlike Arcadia backdrop with the Louisiana Arcadians featured. A pretty good representation but—”

“But what?” Gabriel felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. A sure sign that this was bigger than just following around a princess. Suddenly, he had a real story going. But this wasn’t supposed to be complicated. He wasn’t ready for complicated again. Not yet.

“Oh, my.” She got up, paced the floor, cast several covert glances over her shoulder.

He followed her. “Lara, tell me so I can help.”

“Back in the early sixties, it was discovered that there was a set of three Benoit paintings in a quaint little museum in the Quarter. No one knew the value, not even the museum curator. A patron discovered them and he and the curator quietly called in an art expert to appraise them. But word got out and everyone wanted to own them. Or take them. The one on my parlor wall was hidden away, but someone stole the other two before the appraisal—and murdered the museum curator. Years later, after hearing the story, an associate of Theo’s bid on his behalf for the remaining Benoit at a private auction and paid a hefty price for it.

“Theo told me this story when he presented the painting to me. But no one has ever found the two missing paintings, so some think that was just a hoax to bring attention to the one I own. But if there are two more paintings out there, they now have an estimated worth of over a million dollars each.”

Gabriel did a low whistle. “So all three together...”

She let out a breath. “Could be worth close to three or four million at the least.” She did the hand-to-the-chin pose. “Theo often talked about finding the other two. He even described them, based on some research he’d found on some old catalog notes from the original museum. And now that I think about it, the smaller rendition found on the balcony fits one of the descriptions he told me about. That’s why it seemed so familiar.”

Gabriel was beginning to see the whole picture. “And if someone has the other two and wants the one here, they could make a pretty penny on resale alone. Or possibly, they don’t have any of the paintings, but think you have all three. Either way, if they get their hands on all three, they could become wealthy in a big way. They’d sell cheap, however, to stay under the radar. The price wouldn’t be in the millions, but they could quite possibly ask for an easy three-hundred K.”

“But I don’t have the other two.”

Gabriel put his hands on her arms. “No, but they might be after the one you do have in order to own the whole set. And they might be trying to scare you away long enough to get in here and take it.”

“Or kill me and do whatever they want with all the art I’ve collected for the fundraiser.”

“How many pieces are planned for the upcoming reception and silent auction?”

She tilted her head. “The Benoit—that’s the main attraction, but of course, it’s for display only. Two sculpture pieces worth several thousand dollars and one of Esther’s that has been rising in value since her notoriety with the Levi-Lafitte Diamond and two more smaller paintings—a Van Gogh sketch and one of a Tahitian landscape, both valued at a quarter of a million.”