Which it? Nine-handed Neil? Had he intruded on an interlude she’d wanted?

  Perhaps hinted or flirted into happening? But that wasn’t like April. That wasn’t her way.

  So… She’d wanted what happened between them to happen?

  Something surged up through him, hot and thick. It rose higher, threatening to swamp his brain. Think. Analyze.

  She was a woman. He was a man. He wanted her. Okay. Lust was one element of the potent brew he felt. He could deal with that. But the rest of it? What was that?

  But then his analytical brain, holding out against the onslaught of this surge, found an ally. A response he knew well flowed down over him. The cool, deliberate mantle of duty.

  Whatever April had meant, he would protect her — from Nine-handed Neil or from himself.

  * * *

  “Your Majesty.”

  “Please, sit down, Hunter.”

  “I prefer to stand.”

  “I prefer you to sit.”

  The impasse last another twenty seconds before the younger man sat stiffly in the chair opposite his at the small table by the window.

  “You asked to speak with me before I retired, Hunter?”

  Jozef, King of Bariavak, congratulated himself for such diplomacy. Hunter Pierce had barely waited for April to be out of earshot on her way to her room to demand this audience, even at such an unusual time as immediately upon their return from the White House.

  The drive from the White House to the embassy would have told him, of course, that something had occurred. Hunter’s grim silence. April’s over-bright cheerfulness in recounting her pleasure for the party. Neither looking at the other.

  But he already knew.

  So many years of ruling his country. So many connections. So many unofficial and very willing spies.

  “Yes. I request leave to speak bluntly rather than as a diplomat would, in the interests of time.”

  “You have observed many diplomats, Hunter, so you should be aware that the best diplomats never waste the time of others. It is one of your qualities that would serve you well in diplomacy.”

  Only the slightest hesitation betrayed the younger man’s temptation to set the record straight that he would die to protect diplomats, but he had no interest in becoming one.

  With some amusement, the king wondered if Hunter decided not to pursue that red herring because he didn’t want to disagree with a king, or because he didn’t want to waste time. Jozef suspected the later. His amusement deepened.

  Ah, the introduction of April Gareaux into his life was a blessing indeed.

  He nodded, both hiding the twitching of his lips and indicating Hunter should proceed.

  “It’s about Ms. Gareaux.”

  Jozef stilled inside, waiting for what came next. “Yes.”

  “She is a very intelligent young woman—”

  “She is.” As he’d intended, Jozef’s prompt agreement stopped Hunter’s set speech. When he resumed, he sounded less like a robot.

  “But she is not experienced in…” He cleared his throat. “You have undertaken to entertain her during her stay here. That entails responsibility. The circles that you have introduced her to are not what she’s accustomed to. She doesn’t have the experience rebuffing the advances of certain kinds of—”

  “Perhaps my information is faulty,” Jozef interrupted smoothly, “but I understood that it was not the senator’s staff member that she kissed, but you.”

  Hunter stood. “I will tell my supervisor that you require someone else to take my place immediately, Your Majesty. My resignation—.”

  “You will do no such thing, but you will sit down.” The younger man remained standing “Sit down, Hunter.”

  He did.

  “You will most certainly not resign. You will not tell your supervisor. And you will not leave this assignment.”

  “But—”

  “Do not interrupt a king who is insisting you keep your job.” King Jozef did not let the touch of humor undercut the iron in his order.

  Hunter’s mouth tightened.

  His staying silent satisfied King Jozef, so he proceeded. “Perhaps you think that because I have lived my life as a royal that I am the one to instruct April in the dangers that she might encounter in this world. Instead, I am the last person to do so. This life is too engrained in me, the dangers too familiar for me to even see them. I sidestep them without thinking. So how could I warn anyone else of them? I could not. No, what would benefit April is someone who has knowledge of both the world she has come from and this new world she has entered, for however long that might be, and can point out to her the differences — and the dangers. Someone, in addition, whom she trusts. Someone who cares about her. That person is you.”

  “Sir, there—”

  “You do care about her, don’t you, Hunter?”

  His mouth clamped closed an instant before he responded, “That is immaterial to my job.”

  “It’s very material to your kissing her.”

  The younger man’s face went still, his eyes cool. Some might say blank. But Jozef knew better. He knew the emotions that could, and no doubt did, roil beneath such a façade.

  He thought of the report on Hunter Pierce he had revisited shortly before this interview. The facts there softened his voice.

  “A job is not a man, Hunter. Not even this job,” he tipped his head toward the painting of his ancestor. “Love defines a man, and gives him a life. Family.”

  He cleared his full throat, unashamed. “That is what I have learned. I tried for a time — too long — to persuade myself otherwise. But I know now that I have wasted a great deal of time. All these years of so cautiously seeking my granddaughter because I feared being hurt again, I should have been seeking to build other love into my life. Not to replace the loved ones I had lost, but to honor them by practicing what they had taught me — love and life and family. Do you understand?”

  “Your Majesty.”

  The straight, taut line of the shoulders told him Hunter had braced himself against truly hearing the message of the words. He sighed.

  Perhaps he should not have spoken so soon,

  “You are forgiven.” The tiny muscles at the corners of the younger man’s eyes twitched. He wanted so to point out that he had not asked forgiveness. But he was well-trained, perhaps more by his life than by his profession. “And now you understand that it is my wish, as King of Bariavak, that you remain in your position. Indeed, I have a commission for you, beginning immediately.”

  He outlined that commission, watching Hunter closely.

  He saw the protest before it reached Hunter’s lips, and short-circuited it. “I have, of course, vetted this through your supervisors. They agree. When you check with your office, you will find arrangements are in process. You shall start immediately.”

  He waved a hand of dismissal.

  But he didn’t start humming a jaunty little Bariavakian folk tune until the door had closed behind the straight back of Hunter Pierce.

  * * *

  He was still humming when Madame entered almost immediately upon the sound of her knock.

  “I have come to see if you require anything before retiring, sir. And to enquire if you have a preference for breakfast.”

  Madame Sabdoka never made such a check on him, nor gave him a choice in menu.

  “I should like coffee, please.” He’d left today’s tea — herbal, decaffeinated, and otherwise robbed of taste — untouched.

  “No, Your Majesty. The surgery is in two weeks, and the doctors said no caffeine for two weeks.”

  “They advised it, they did not order. And even so, the two weeks do not start until Thursday, so I shall have coffee tomorrow.”

  “No, Your Majesty. And I do hope your interview with that American has not upset you. The doctors said—”

  “If ‘the doctors said’ is going to be the extent of your conversation, Madame, I shall banish you.” She clattered a lamp she was adjusting but made no other comment. “As for my conversation, rather than upset me, it intrigued me. An interesting young man. With an excellent head on his shoulders and the heart of a lion.”

  Madame snorted, if such a word could be used for one so dignified. Ah, but he remembered a time when she had not been so dignified.

  When they had both been young and wild, and not yet reined in to the duties that awaited them.

  He had fared better in that regard than Marusha. He had come to love his wife dearly. And he had had, for a time, a family as loving and normal as any monarch could hope for. Marusha’s arranged marriage had not been as successful.

  Her sole child, too, had died during that damnable uprising. Months later, her husband died unexpectedly, not having had quite enough time to finish the job of gambling away both their fortunes.

  She had refused the offer of a post as ambassador to a country where the title would be mostly ceremonial. She intended to earn her living, she had announced. So she had come here, and for nearly thirty years she had served her country by running this most important embassy far more than any ambassador could.

  “Yes, an excellent head and the heart of a lion. But he lets the one rule too strongly and does not trust the other.” He tapped a finger to his chin. “Not yet.”

  “That young man does not show you the proper respect. And the young lady is not at all conversant with royal protocol.”

  “You are, as always, absolutely correct, Madame Sabdoka.” He settled back and smiled. “Isn’t it refreshing? There is much the young can teach us, and yet, I do believe there is much I can teach them. That young man, especially—”

  “You are not going to get involved with the personal life of some young American—”

  Their gazes met.

  “—Yes. An American, as he has chosen. Or with the romance of this young woman who may — or may not,” she added darkly, “be your granddaughter as you could have determined by now many times over. Yet you have chosen not to know for certain because you are indulging in meddling of the most—”

  He drew himself up, stopping her words instantly. “In your king it is not meddling. It is ruling.” He relaxed. “Ah, truly, this is by far the most fun I have had in a very, very long time. Let us enjoy this holiday.”

  He smiled at her. For an instant, he saw the laughing face of a girl, her hair frothed wild by the wind. Then Madame Sabdoka returned.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  * * *

  On the drive to the first stop of his commission, Hunter analyzed the conversation with the king from every angle. It always came out the same.

  He’d gone in there to urge Jozef to be a stricter chaperone to April. His unprofessional behavior in kissing her had come out and made it blindingly clear he not only shouldn’t be on this job but probably should resign.

  And yet here he was, not only still on the job, but with orders that would take him even deeper into April Gareaux’s life.

  * * *

  Both Jameel and Maria remembered him and were inclined to be friendly until he started asking questions about April. They clammed up, and stayed clammed up.

  Mandy Roteen hadn’t been as reticent. But most of what she had to say was either already in the report or consisted of how much more ready for fun Mandy was than April.

  * * *

  “Michael? It’s Grady. Are you alone?”

  “Just a minute.” The sound of a door closing came through the line, cutting off background voices. “What’s up?”

  “Have you seen that footage from last night’s White House party?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m downplaying it to Leslie, but that guy behind April — same one from the tree lighting clip I sent you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I want to know who he is. Any chance—?”

  “I’m on it.”

  “No reason to worry Leslie or Tris with this.”

  “No,” Michael agreed, though he sounded less sure. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”

  * * *

  The percussion of the knock on her door somehow transferred to April’s heart. “Come in.”

  The door opened.

  “Oh, Derek.” She tried to keep her reaction out of her voice. Though what that reaction was… Relief. Yes, certainly relief. It would be awkward when she saw Hunter next. Wouldn’t it?

  “Hi, April. Wanted to check in, see what you’ve got planned today?”

  “It’s pretty much a day of rest. No outings. A nice, quiet Sunday.” She produced a smile and he smiled back. “Wrapping, thank-you notes.”

  Including one for the party at the White House. Hunter’s mouth on hers. Dizziness that spun not just her head, but her whole body…

  “Good. Then I can ease into it.”

  “Ease into it?”

  “Taking over for Hunter.”

  “What?” Her lungs burned, as if she’d drawn in heated air. “Where is he?”

  “Don’t know. Other than gone.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t know that, either. Got the call to get over here right away, and that I’d be lead for you. As long as you’re not going anywhere right away, I’ll get settled. Come get me for Rufus’ walk.”

  He closed the door, leaving her with thoughts swirling through her head.

  * * *

  The man who’d answered the door brought Reese Warrington back with him.

  “Thank you, Barton.” The man departed again. “What is this about,” Reese tried in the blustering tone of the ineffectual. He was holding Hunter’s business card, so he knew some of what it was about.

  “I have a few questions about your relationship with a woman named April Gareaux.”

  “So it was April at that party last night.” His eyes lit up, but Hunter put it down to curiosity.

  Barton reappeared. “Excuse me sir, but Mrs. Warrington requires that you bring the gentleman into the drawing room.”

  Reese grimaced, but gestured for Hunter to follow Barton.

  “What is all this about,” the older woman of two in the room demanded immediately with authority. “Who are you?”

  Reese performed the introductions to his mother and wife, ending with, “He’s here to see me, Mother.”

  “About what?” she demanded of Hunter. He looked back at her without speaking.

  She glared at him, then turned to her son, who said immediately. “It’s about April, actually.”

  “April?” scoffed his wife, taking a long drink of what appeared to be a cocktail. “What about her?”

  “You were engaged to Ms. Gareaux, Mr. Warrington?”

  “Yes, yes I was. I told you that was April with that king on the news last night,” he said to the women.

  Neither seemed to hear him.

  “Engaged?” said Roberta Warrington. “Hardly. She latched onto him, until I came back and put an end to that nonsense.”

  “It was being handled,” her mother-in-law said.

  “For four months,” Reese Warrington said to Hunter.

  “How did you meet Ms Gareaux, Mr. Warrington?”

  His mother said, “She picked him up. Not part of our circle, of course.”

  Reese waited for her to finish before he said, “We started talking when I attended the sale of Gerard Littrell’s library. He had some remarkable first editions of classic science fiction.”

  The women made a dismissive sound in unison.

  “She was so open, so kind. But tell me, is she the granddaughter of this king? That’s the rumor I heard.”

  “Ridiculous. She’s a nobody. A non-entity,” the younger Mrs. Warrington said.

  “I’ll speak to your staff now. In the kitchen,” Hunter said.

  “You’ve hardly asked us anything,” Reese protested.

  Yet they’d answered plenty.

  Hunter stood. “I’ll speak to your staff now.”

  “My staff? Absolutely not,” Lois Warrington said.

  Hunter looked down at the woman.

  “Mother, please,” Reese said.

  “Really.” Roberta Warrington flung one hand wide. “What can it matter?”

  Lois Warrington broke the look first. “Fine.” As Hunter walked out, she added, “Just don’t let it hold up our dinner.”

  * * *

  As he left the Warrington estate forty-five minutes later, Hunter called Sharon Johnson.

  The message he left on her cell was succinct. “Rumors are starting. See what you can do.”

  * * *

  “Sir, I must talk with you — please.”

  “Of course, April.” He gestured her to come into the office.

  For an instant it reminded her of that first day. Two weeks ago. Was that all it was? Two weeks?

  The king rose, coming around the desk, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa before the fireplace, sitting beside her, and ending any similarity to that first meeting.

  She drew in a breath.

  “I am not your granddaughter.”

  She said that slowly and distinctly, looking into his eyes.

  “Ah.”

  Her calm precision disappeared in a rush of words. “I am so sorry. So terribly, terribly sorry. And I know you have no reason to believe me when I tell you how deeply fond of you I am, when you’re thinking that if I really were I would have waited until after the operation to tell you — or that I wouldn’t have pretended at all. I wanted to help my country, yes, I absolutely did, and I do hope you will sign that extension. But, truly, sir, I thought I could make your holidays happier, too. I know what it’s like to feel alone because that’s how I felt a lot growing up, and it’s especially hard around the holidays. I thought… I thought I could let you go on thinking— but I can’t. I can’t do this. If I were stronger, I would have waited until after your surgery, but to let you go on thinking you’d found your granddaughter — your family — and to know all the time that it was a lie. I can’t.”

  “Have you told Hunter that you can’t continue this?”

  She blinked against sudden heat in her eyes. She would not cry. She would not.

 

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