Royal Affair Page 10

  When she got out of the vehicle, he followed suit and went with her up the sidewalk with its attractive border of flowers. He took her hand and was gratified when she didn’t pull away.

  “But life is more than that,” he continued. “Some people waste their time dashing from one romance to another. They don’t stick it out through the hard times, and they never know the pride and contentment of building a life with one person over the long haul.”

  She stopped at the door, key in hand, and studied him as if trying to discover what made him tick. He held still and let her look. She was the only person he’d ever let himself be vulnerable to—a difficult thing to do.

  Shaking her head slightly, she turned back to the door. When she inserted the key into the bolt, the door swung open on its own.

  “Stay put,” he ordered, pushing Ivy behind him.

  Kicking the door open with his foot, he surveyed the living room and kitchen. Going inside, he peered behind the sofa, checked the draperies and the shadows behind a potted plant, then went into the kitchen.

  “What is it?” she asked, right behind him. “Do you think someone broke in?”

  “Yes, I think someone broke in,” he told her, his jaw muscles stiff with worry. “Don’t you ever do as you’re told?”

  “Not often,” she admitted, going to the pantry and opening the door. “There’s no one in here.”

  He controlled his exasperation with effort and knew a moment of sympathy for Chuck in trying to guard him when he was being pigheaded. “Let’s check the bedrooms. Do you want to go first or shall I?”

  “You.” She managed to look contrite.

  Leading the way, he checked the apartment thoroughly, Ivy on his heels the entire time. The place was vacant.

  “Empty,” he said, satisfied this was true.

  “But someone has been here,” she told him, folding her arms over her waist. “I feel a sense of violation.” Her laughter was feeble. “Probably overre- action.”

  “Maybe not. Chuck believes in gut instinct. He thinks you subconsciously pick up clues that don’t immediately make an impact on your mind. A faint trace of another’s scent, something moved an inch to the side, that sort of thing.”

  “Should we call the police?”

  Max made a decision and shook his head. “I’ll call Chuck. He’s the best investigator I know.”

  An hour later the security advisor laid two tiny devices on the dining room table where Max and Ivy waited while he checked out the apartment. “The place has been bugged, I’m afraid.”

  “Who?” Ivy questioned, puzzlement in her eyes. “Why?”

  “That’s what we need to find out,” Chuck told them. “Is it because of Max? Or you?”

  “Why would anyone be interested in me?” she asked, then glanced at Max.

  Chuck answered. “Because of Crosby Systems. Competition is fierce in the computer industry. Your company is involved in several lucrative contracts. You are heading up a multimillion-dollar project. If an enemy could find a way to discredit you, that might bring the whole enterprise into question or cause a government investigation.”

  “Especially if it was whispered in the right ears that the project involves sensitive technology,” Max added. “That could stop everything in its tracks.”

  “The project was approved by the State Department,” Ivy told the two men. “It was all cleared before we did the detail planning.”

  “All’s fair in politics and international intrigue,” Chuck said with a shrug.

  Max observed as Ivy absorbed this information. When her eyes darted to him, he held her gaze. Yes, this is what my life is like, he silently told her. Yes, you would be part of the rumors and intrigues as my wife.

  When she looked away, he rose and paced restlessly to the patio door. Gazing at the lovely September landscape, he wished he were free to love as he pleased without giving a thought to kingdoms and international relationships.

  With a sigh, he turned toward the room once more. Even a small country such as his was a player on the world stage. His queen would have to learn to live with that.

  Heaviness descended on his spirits. His internal landscape darkened, like a night without even the moon’s pale gleam to brighten his way.

  “What now?” Chuck asked, looking at him.

  “We can’t leave Ivy here alone.”

  His security chief nodded. “Do we stay here or take her to the hotel? The latter would be the best, I think.”

  Ivy held up a hand to stop the discussion. “Wait a minute. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Max glanced at Chuck and shrugged. “Okay. We’ll stay here.” He gave her a hard look. “Either way, there’ll be no arguing.”

  She didn’t back down. “What do you think is going to happen to me? No one would dare hurt Jack Crosby’s kid.”

  “Years ago someone kidnapped one of the Logan boys. He was playing with your brother at the time,” Chuck reminded her. He turned to Max. “We’d better tell her what happened in Lantanya the past few weeks.”

  “There was a trial for treason,” she said. “It was on the news one night. I guess they couldn’t get any experts to talk about it because it never came up again.”

  Max nodded. “I had to sentence my uncle and one of our ministers to prison.”

  A stricken expression came into her lovely eyes. “That’s what you were doing before coming here?”

  “Before coming for you,” he said softly. “Yes.”

  “They tried to kill you.”

  He lifted a hand to caress her cheek and allay her fears. “You saved my life. I was with you the night the attempt was made.”

  “How horrible,” she whispered.

  He smiled, although it was with sadness. “No, that part was good. It was the trial and sentencing that was horrible. I’d trusted those men, you see.”

  Tears brimmed on her lashes. The pain she felt was for him, he realized. He pulled her to his chest and felt the hot tears soak through his shirt.

  “I’ll, uh, leave you two to, uh, discuss things,” Chuck said, moving toward the door. “I don’t think there’s any immediate danger, but you should come to the hotel to spend the night.”

  “We will,” Max assured him.

  Chuck exited, closing the door and making sure it locked. Ivy tilted her head back and stared at him with her tear-washed eyes.

  “I couldn’t bear it if you died.”

  Max couldn’t bear her grief. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her hotly, urgently. “Come with me,” he said. “I won’t be able to rest until you do.”

  “To the hotel?” she asked.

  He hesitated, then nodded. “For now.” Before she could speak, he added, “We’ll decide other things at other times. Get what you need, and let’s go.”

  “I can go to my sister’s place. Or my father’s.”

  “I need you with me.”

  To his surprised relief, she didn’t argue, but packed a bag and handed him the keys to her car when she was ready. Something turned over in his heart, demanding attention, but there was no time at the present.

  At the hotel he whisked Ivy to the top floor and the corner suite he and Chuck shared. A large living area, complete with a kitchen and dining table, separated the two bedrooms. Max had the one with the king-size bed.

  He carried Ivy’s luggage to his room. “You’ll sleep in here.”

  “Where will you sleep?” she asked.

  “Chuck has two beds in his room. The sofa makes a bed, too, I think.” He gave her a deliberately lascivious stare meant to dispel the worry in her face. “Or I can sleep in here with you.”

  He found himself waiting anxiously for her next words.

  “Men,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. The worry was still there, but so was a smile. “You may as well stay here, too. Otherwise, I’d never get any sleep for worrying.”

  Max caught her to him. He had to control his strength in order not to hold her too tightly. He didn’t wan
t to leave bruises on her fair skin.

  “Thanks,” he said lightly, although he couldn’t stop his voice dropping to a husky note as hunger shot through him like a blaze from a flame thrower. He cupped her face and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You just want to be in the thick of things,” he accused.

  She gazed up at him, her manner earnest, her honesty so tangible he could feel it surrounding her like a force field. When she laid both hands on his chest—not to hold him off, but because she wanted to touch him, he realized—it did things to his insides.

  “My lovely, compassionate princess,” he whispered. “It would be so easy to take advantage of your tender heart.”

  She shook her head in brief denial, then took a deep breath that caused her breasts to brush his chest. “I will marry you,” she said, looking him in the eye. “On one condition.”

  For a moment he couldn’t believe he was hearing correctly, but her steadfast gaze told him she was serious. “What is the condition?”

  “You told my family you were courting me….”

  When her voice trailed off, he nodded to encourage her to go on.

  She swallowed, then said, “I want you to do that. Court me. And mean it.”

  “I do mean it,” he told her, somewhat puzzled. “What are you asking?”

  “I want you to court me as if…as if we were madly in love.”

  It would be very easy to murmur the words. He had only to open his mouth and say the three words she wanted from him and she would accept him. But she was too fine, too honorable for him to treat her needs cavalierly.

  “I have feelings for you.” That much was very true.

  “But not love,” she concluded.

  “Foul deeds have been excused in the name of love. I have heard people declare love, then stab the supposed loved one in the back. It is a word that is much used and little honored, I’m afraid.”

  Her gaze flickered down, then back to his. A veil had been drawn across her emotions. “I see,” she said quietly.

  It hurt him someplace deep inside to see that shield erected between them. “Love has not served me well of late,” he tried to explain. “My father’s half brother, a man I trusted and, with a child’s faith, assumed would never betray me, did just that—”

  “He arranged the assassination attempt the night you stayed with me?” she interrupted, looking so fierce on his behalf he wanted to kiss her until they were both senseless.

  Holding the swirl of emotions in check, he nodded. “Yes. So I find I’m somewhat skeptical about declarations of devotion at the moment. Words are cheap. It is action that speaks of the intent of the heart. I asked you to be my wife and my queen. It is something I’ve never done.”

  “Because of the child.”

  “That and other things.” He gazed into her eyes. “We are physically attracted to each other. I admire you for your intelligence and for your integrity. More than all those, though, I like you as a person. I like being with you even without making love. Even when we quarrel.”

  He couldn’t help but grin as she obviously tried to sort through all this and decide if he was telling the truth. He laughed when she frowned in exasperation.

  “I will court you, my lovely, delicate rose,” he whispered, leaning close so that he smelled the sweet scent of her. “And it will be done with honesty and sincerity. If you consent to marriage, upon my honor, I will respect our vows. All of them.”

  There. He had made his pledge. It was up to her whether she would accept his word.

  Her sudden smile dazzled him. Raising both hands to his face, she held him gently and said, “Then let the courtship begin.”

  Her kiss surprised and pleased him. For ten seconds he tried to keep it light, but that was as long as his control lasted. He wrapped her in his arms until he could feel every curve of her luscious body.

  She broke the kiss. “A courtship,” she said with ragged determination, “must be platonic. If we make love, it will confuse things.”

  He groaned, then valiantly released her and wondered if she knew what she was asking. A platonic courtship? He doubted he would live through it.

  Eight

  Ivy woke with a jerk. She was disoriented, but it took only a glance at the luxurious suite to remind her where she was. Max was nowhere in sight. After checking all exits last night as if he were doing a crime scene investigation, he’d left her and slept on the bed hidden in a cherry armoire in the elegant living room.

  After a moment’s thought, she recalled it was Tuesday and a workday. It was hard for her to believe it had been a mere week since she’d bought the pregnancy test kit and the tabloid that had identified the father of her child.

  She felt she’d lived several lifetimes in seven days. In some ways she had. First there’d been the pregnancy test, then a lover who’d turned into a prince—but not due to her magical kiss.

  Ha. She mocked the turbulent feelings this thought evoked.

  And finally there had been the meeting on the jogging trail and the dramatic faint.

  She groaned, then rose carefully, mindful of the unpredictability of her tummy these days. She showered and dressed, ran the stream of hot air from the blow dryer over her hair for two minutes, then went into the other room.

  No one was there. A note from Max told her he and Chuck were out jogging. He’d ordered breakfast to be brought to the suite at eight. She checked the clock on the wall in the tiny kitchen. Fifteen minutes before the hour.

  Spotting the coffeemaker, she put on a pot to brew and nibbled on a package of peanut butter crackers she found in a cabinet. That got her through the queasy part of the day. By the time the coffee was done, she felt ready to face any problem.

  Until Max walked in the door.

  The freshness of the day seemed to cling to his muscular form as he entered. He saw her and headed toward the counter that separated the kitchen from the large living and dining area. His jogging clothes were soaked with perspiration, and the heated scent of his body enfolded her in warmth and a trill of excitement.

  She couldn’t help but look him over. He exuded all the alluring assets of the alpha male. He was virile, confident and courageous. His shoulders were broad, his chest deep, his arms and legs laced with muscles. Handsome. Powerful. A leader among men. Literally.

  At the counter, he leaned forward, took her cup and stole a sip, then kissed her with such tender passion, it drove the breath right from her body.

  “I missed you last night,” he murmured, handing the cup back and letting his gaze drift over her face, skim her breasts that jutted wantonly against her white sweater, and finally sweep down her blue slacks to her loafers before returning to rest on her abdomen. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “No nausea?”

  “No.” She refused to blush at the intimate questions.

  “Breakfast should be here soon. I’ll be back.” He headed for his room and closed the door behind him.

  Feeling weak and foolish, she topped up the coffee and took a seat in a comfortable club chair. She’d hardly gotten settled when the doorbell rang.

  “Keep your seat,” Chuck advised, coming out of the other bedroom that was part of the suite. He opened the door and greeted the room service waiter.

  Chuck was freshly showered, Ivy noted, and dressed in dark slacks, a white shirt and a tie. He directed the waiter to place the food on the gleaming cherry dining table, his manner almost brusque. The waiter got busy, and by the time he exited, Max returned.

  “Did I hear someone say food?” he asked, striding across the room as if he commanded the world.

  His smile was dazzling when he offered her his arm and escorted her to the table. He seated her to his right while Chuck took the chair to the left of the head of the table.

  “I’ve spoken with your brother,” Max told her.

  “Trent? Why?”

  “Because you may be in danger. He agrees that you should stay under my watchful eye while Chuck
and your company’s security agents check out your place.”

  “Check it for what?” She was beginning to feel she was playing a scene in a B-rated movie and her lines were the worst ones.

  “Fingerprints. He thinks we should notify the FBI.”

  “I agree,” Chuck said. “They need to know what’s at stake here.”

  “What?” Ivy asked. “What’s at stake?”

  Those thick, black eyebrows that she loved to stroke rose slightly in patient irony. “I think he’s referring to us and the child.”

  “To your life,” Chuck stated without a trace of a smile to his boss. “You are to be crowned king in November. It would be awkward if I should have to protect your unborn child until he or she is old enough to take your place.”

  Ivy felt such a hitch in her body she had to lay a hand over her middle to ease the tightness. It was as if the baby had heard and understood the importance of its existence. For the first time, the fact that her child was heir to a throne became real to her.

  “But you would do it,” Max said quietly.

  “Yes,” Chuck replied.

  The depth of friendship and loyalty between the two men became evident by the simple exchange. When they both looked at her, she realized she was the center of their concern—she and the baby she carried. A tremor shook her to the core of her being.

  “No one will hurt the child if I can prevent it,” she said, joining in the pledge to protect the little one.

  “Then you will do exactly as we say?” Max asked, pinning her with a hard stare.

  She frowned, not sure what she was willing to commit herself to doing. “I’m not inclined to follow orders blindly, but I have given some thought to the situation.”

  She pushed her empty plate aside and poured a fresh cup of coffee from the room service cart.

  “What was your conclusion?” Max asked, his eyes roaming over her in a sexy, lazy perusal. “By the way, Chuck, you should know that Ivy and I are engaged.”

  She started to deny it, but on second thought, decided that was what she’d agreed to. “A sort of trial engagement,” she quickly clarified.