An Officer and a Princess Page 6

  For the past seven days he’d seen a side of Isabel he hadn’t known she possessed. She’d been good-naturedly flirtatious with the men in the tavern, and part of her allure was the fact that she seemed so genuinely unaware of her allure.

  Adam frowned irritably. He certainly wasn’t unaware of her allure. Her scent wrapped around him at night like a warm, sensual blanket and he was beginning to learn the little habits that made her unique.

  She was cranky in the mornings, but always cheerful by the end of her first cup of coffee. She liked croissants, not toast and butter, and never jelly.

  Her lower lip trembled when she was trying to hide her emotions and she always uttered a soft little sigh just before she fell into deep sleep.

  For all intent and purposes, Adam had all the intimate knowledge of her that a husband would have…except he hadn’t made love to her. And he suspected that’s why he was feeling cranky.

  Of course, he preferred to think that his crabbiness came from the fact that they hadn’t gained any information in the last seven days. He preferred to believe that it was work-related frustration that gnawed at his insides and not the sufferings of sexual deprivation.

  His gaze narrowed as Blake Hariman walked in. The big man with the tattooed arms scanned the room, his gaze lingering on Isabel, then moving to meet Adam’s gaze. The two men held eye contact for only a long moment, then Blake broke the stare and headed back toward the billiard tables.

  Adam frowned thoughtfully. He had the feeling Blake was sizing him up, but for what, Adam had no idea. Every night the two men had sat across the bar from one another, and every night Adam had felt Blake’s watchful gaze on him.

  He once again looked at Isabel, who was making her way back to their table clutching two drinks in her hands. As usual, her hair was puffed all out in a punky style, and her full lips were ruby-red with lipstick.

  “Better drink up for strength,” she said as she sat down next to him. “It’s going to be a long night for you.”

  He knew she was referring to the fact that Bart, the owner and bartender of the place, had given Adam the job of cleaning up after hours.

  The pay was cash under the table and a discount on their room. Although Isabel and Adam needed neither, it was part of the facade they wanted to maintain.

  “Yeah, just think of me when you’re all snuggled in bed and I’m down here slaving to keep you in cheap, tacky outfits,” he said.

  She laughed. “At least these cheap, tacky outfits of mine keep me blending in with the female patrons of this place.”

  “I suppose,” he replied, his irritation rising once again. As far as he was concerned, there was no way she blended in. Throughout the past week women had come and gone from the bar, but none of them had been as pretty, as sexy or as compelling as Isabel.

  “I’m beginning to think this whole scheme is nothing but a waste of our time.” He scowled into his drink.

  “That’s not true.” She leaned into him, her body warmth raising his internal temperature substantially. “We’ve learned about the Patriots, and we didn’t know anything about them before this.”

  “We still don’t know anything about them,” Adam whispered in return. “Ben hasn’t been able to find any information on them, and we sure as hell don’t know if they had anything to do with your father’s kidnapping.”

  His tone was sharp and she flinched beneath the rancor in it. Instantly he was sorry. He drew a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair, steadying himself. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to yell at you. Dammit, I’m just getting frustrated.”

  “I know. So am I.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, only serving to make matters worse.

  He wondered vaguely why she couldn’t sense his simmer, smell the scent of an imminent explosion. It was growing more and more difficult to think of anything other than how badly he wanted to taste her mouth again, how much he wanted to touch her.

  He eased himself away from her, grateful that she dropped her hand and straightened in her chair, taking her heat, her scent and her nearness away.

  They sat side by side until closing time, sipping their drinks and playing the roles they had undertaken as Bella and Adam Wilcox.

  When the bar closed, Isabel went upstairs and Adam began the task of cleaning the tables. Bart had left him alone with the instructions to clean the tables, wash any dirty glasses and sweep the floor.

  Adam set to work, dreading the time when he would go upstairs to the room where Isabel slept and conform his body to what had become a torture device…that damnable lumpy chair.

  He’d slept on hammocks, on the ground and on hard narrow cots, but nothing had kept sleep at bay like that chair. He wondered vaguely if his nightly restlessness was due to the lumpy stuffing of the chair or the fact that Isabel was so near, wearing that sexy lilac nightgown and a scent that drove him half wild.

  How much longer could he do it? How much longer could he be tormented by Isabel and this mock marriage without overstepping the boundaries of propriety? How long could he be strong enough not to follow through on his enormous desire for her?

  He’d finished with the tables and dishes and was sweeping up the floors when he heard a key in the front door. He turned, tensed and was surprised to see Blake Hariman walk in.

  The big man filled the doorway and Adam eyed him warily, wondering what was going on. Was this some sort of a set-up? As Adam watched, Blake closed the door and re-locked it behind him.

  Adam said nothing, but adrenaline pumped through him as he realized he should be prepared for anything. Blake walked across the room and around the back of the bar. “Buy you a drink?” he asked and placed two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey on the bar.

  “I never turn down a free drink.” Adam leaned his broom against the wall and walked over to the bar, still prepared for whatever might occur.

  Although Blake was big, Adam felt confident if it came to a physical altercation, Adam could take him down…unless the man had a gun, or a knife.

  He watched as Blake poured two liberal shots. He picked up one as Blake picked up the other. “To your health,” Blake said.

  “And to yours,” Adam replied. Adam threw back the drink, the whiskey burning all the way down his throat and to his stomach. “Does Bart know you help yourself to his alcohol?”

  For the first time, Blake grinned. It was not a particularly pleasant gesture, as it didn’t reach the cold darkness of his eyes. “Bart knows what I tell him. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Well, I appreciate the drink.” Adam started back toward his broom but paused when Hariman called his name.

  “Wilcox. I hear through the grapevine that you aren’t much of a Stanbury supporter. Did I hear right?”

  Adam kept his features schooled carefully in neutrality.

  “Maybe so…maybe not, depends on who is asking and why they want to know.”

  Blake poured himself another shot and shrugged. “Just curious is all. There’s some who think maybe it’s time for some changes.”

  “Depends on who’s making the changes,” Adam answered carefully. He felt as if they were speaking in some sort of code and they had both lost the keys to exactly how the code worked.

  Adrenaline still pumped through him, although he no longer anticipated a physical battle of any kind. However, he was aware that the mental game being played was every bit as dangerous as a fistfight or brawl.

  “I got some friends who would like to see some changes made,” Blake said, his dark gaze speculative as it lingered on Adam.

  “Yeah, and I’ve got some friends who want to be millionaires, so what’s your point?” Adam asked with more than a touch of impatience.

  “Look, I got work to do here.” He walked over and grabbed his broom.

  “Maybe my friends are actively doing things to impel change.”

  “So, what’s that got to do with me?”

  Blake shrugged his massive shoulders. “Just thought you’d like to meet some of them so
me time.”

  “Maybe,” Adam replied and began to brush his broom across the floor. “As far as I’m concerned a man can’t have too many friends.” Adam felt the weight of Blake’s gaze on him, but he didn’t look up from the floor.

  “I’ll see if I can set something up.” Blake drank the second shot then put the bottle away. Adam watched him surreptitiously, surprised to see him wash their glasses then put them away.

  As Adam continued to push the broom across the floor, Blake walked to the front door. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, then disappeared out into the night.

  Adam didn’t stop sweeping until the floor was completely clean, but as he swept, his mind whirled with questions. Who, exactly, were Blake Hariman’s friends? The Patriots? Or another subversive lunatic group with the desire to destroy the monarchy?

  Had he just taken the first step on a journey that would lead him to the kidnapped king? Or was he on the first leg of a merry wild-goose chase that would eat up valuable time?

  When he was finished with the floor, he took the stairs two at a time to the third floor, unable to staunch the flow of optimism that rushed through him.

  Although he had no rational reason to think so, he couldn’t help but believe that tonight’s strange conversation with Blake Hariman might just be the break they had been waiting for.

  He’d intended to tell Isabel the new development the moment he entered their room, but one look at her sleeping form and he didn’t have the heart to wake her. Morning was soon enough to tell her the news.

  Instead, he took a brief, hot shower, pulled on a pair of shorts, then left the bathroom. He stood just at the foot of the chair, then looked once again at Isabel.

  She slept soundly, her breathing deep and regular. Weariness tugged at Adam’s bones and he stared long and hard at the empty side of the bed.

  They were two adults. She was practically engaged to another man. Surely they could share the bed for a night or two without any dire consequences.

  Before giving himself a chance to think twice, he eased down into the over-soft bed, every muscle in his body thanking him for his choice.

  He was asleep almost before he closed his eyes.

  Isabel was dreaming. Oh, and what a dream it was. She was dreaming of the warmth of a body spooned around the back of hers, a strong male arm thrown over her shoulder. It was the sweetest of dreams because she could decide whose body was so close to hers, whose arm was around her. And she wanted it to be Adam’s body, Adam’s arm.

  She snuggled deeper into the dream and came fully awake. Her heart instantly worked overtime as she realized it wasn’t a dream at all. It was very, very real.

  Adam was in bed with her and the soft mattress had allowed their bodies to roll together in the middle of the mattress. Had he come to the bed because he was tired of sleeping in the chair, or because of his desire for her?

  She didn’t move, was almost afraid to continue breathing. She didn’t want to wake him, didn’t want to end the moment of intimate closeness.

  Closing her eyes once again, she breathed in the scent of him, wishing she could turn over and he would awaken and make love to her.

  Her cheeks burned at the thought and her heart raced a little faster. She hadn’t made love to any man, but she knew with certainty that making love to Adam Sinclair would be a beautiful experience.

  She frowned, thinking of the future her father had mapped out for her. King Michael had already made his wishes for his eldest daughter well known. He wanted her to marry Sebastian Lansbury, settle into the role of traditional wife and have lots of royal babies to continue the lineage.

  But Isabel’s brother Nicholas had already had one child, sweet little LeAnn. Surely he and his wife, Rebecca, would have more children…a son that would one day be the crown prince. And if they didn’t have a son, it was possible Dominique’s child would be a boy to continue the Stanbury lineage on the throne.

  Eventually Isabel wanted children, but she didn’t want to have them with Sebastian Lansbury. She certainly didn’t want to marry Sebastian.

  What she wanted was to remain here, in bed with Adam, forever. She could gladly spend a lifetime gazing into his fascinating gray eyes, wrapped in the warmth of his arms.

  But she knew their present physical closeness wasn’t due to any magic of love, but rather to the reality of physics. The mattress was soft, it was only natural their bodies had rolled together in the night.

  It would be nice to believe that, out of want and need, Adam had reached for her in his sleep, but she knew better than to fall into that particular fantasy.

  In fact, she knew better than to linger in this sleepy embrace, knowing there was no truth in it. Funny how that thought created an odd ache in the bottom of her heart.

  The moment she moved, he awakened and rolled away from her as if she were on fire and he feared spontaneous combustion.

  “Good morning,” she said, hoping her face didn’t radiate her dismay at how quickly he’d withdrawn from her.

  “‘Morning,” he returned.

  “I see you decided to get smart and make use of the bed.”

  He sat up, the sheet falling away from his naked chest. Isabel’s heart raced a new kind of rhythm. How she wanted to lean forward and stroke her palm down his muscled chest, tangle her fingers in the patch of hair that was just the right amount in the center of his broad chest.

  “My back couldn’t handle another night on that chair,” he said.

  In one smooth movement he got up and out of the bed. “You know what I’d really like to do?” he asked.

  Isabel’s mouth went utterly dry. She certainly knew what she’d like to do. She wanted to grab hold of his hand and pull him back down to the bed with her.

  She wanted him to kiss her until she lost her mind, touch her body until she was weeping with dizzying need, then take her and possess her completely.

  “What?” she finally managed to ask.

  “I want to get out of here.”

  She stared at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I need to breathe some air other than what’s in this room and what’s in this stinking tavern. Why don’t we get dressed, get some breakfast, then take off for a ride some place in the country? Just for an hour or two. What do you say?”

  Energy positively rolled from him, a coiled energy that filled the room with a dangerous tension.

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  A few moments later as she stood beneath the shower, she decided that a drive in the country sounded wonderful. Surely the time away from this room, away from the charade they were playing would make all the crazy thoughts she’d been having about Adam fly right out of her head.

  They walked to their usual café for coffee and croissants, then left the café and walked to where Adam had parked his car on the first night he’d arrived at the King’s Men Tavern.

  Adam was quiet through breakfast and during their drive. The June air drifted into the open car windows, banishing any lingering scent of the pub from Isabel’s mind.

  It was a gorgeous day and Isabel hadn’t realized until this moment how tightly confined their lives had been for the past seven days. They had spent far too many hours cooped up in their tiny room, then enclosed in the smoky, noisy interior of the bar.

  With each mile that passed, Adam seemed to relax. The tension she’d felt rolling from him since the moment he’d opened his eyes that morning disappeared and his fingers beat a faint rhythm on the steering wheel, as if music filled his head.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He finally broke the silence and swept a hand out to encompass their surroundings.

  Isabel gazed out the window at the lush, green fields. In the distance a bright blue lake sparkled in the sunshine. Her heart expanded with love, with the joy of her country. “As far as I’m concerned, there is no place prettier than Edenbourg. My father used to tell me it was the precious jewel of the North Sea.”

  She sighed wistfully. “I’d
give all the wealth in the Chamber of Riches to hear him say those words again.”

  Adam shot her a curious glance. “I always thought the Chamber of Riches was just a rumor, that it didn’t really exist.”

  “It exists,” Isabel replied. “Although I don’t know its location.” The Chamber of Riches was a secret vault that contained the wealth amassed by the Stanbury monarchy over centuries. “Only the king knows how to get into the Chamber of Riches.”

  They drove a little further, then to Isabel’s surprise, Adam turned down a narrow lane that led to an attractive cottage.

  “What’s this?” she asked as he parked the car in front of the place.

  A curtain at one of the front windows fluttered and a moment later the front door opened and Nicholas stood on the threshold.

  “Nicholas!” Isabel flew from the car at the sight of her brother. She hadn’t seen him since the insiders at the palace had orchestrated his “kidnapping” and circulated the rumor of his death.

  “Nicholas, it’s so good to see you,” she said as he embraced her. She was vaguely aware of Adam joining them at the door.

  “And it’s a shock to see you.” Nicholas hugged her, then held her by the shoulders and eyed her from head to toe. “What on earth have you done to yourself?”

  “Why don’t we talk about it inside?” Adam suggested.

  “Of course,” Nicholas said and together the three of them entered the small house.

  Inside, Nicholas’s wife Rebecca and the baby LeAnn greeted them. Isabel hugged her sister-in-law tightly while LeAnn gurgled in her playpen with excitement.

  Within minutes, the four of them were seated around a wooden table, drinking coffee and catching up on all the news.

  LeAnn sat on her mother’s lap, happily entertained with a ring of plastic keys.

  “How long have you been here?” Isabel asked.

  “Not long,” Nicholas replied. “We’re moved on a regular basis.”

  “The country is mourning your death.” Isabel studied her handsome brother with his dark hair and blue eyes. He wore the stress of the past few months. He appeared thinner and new lines creased his forehead.