An Officer and a Princess (8 page)

“Isabel, we couldn't very well ask questions without drawing unwanted attention and suspicion to ourselves. It's going to take time to gain the right people's trust. Unfortunately, there's just no way to hurry things.”

“I know.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, looking far younger than her twenty-eight
years. Adam fought the impulse to take her in her arms and hold her close to comfort her.

He knew what she was thinking. Time was running out for her father. The truth was, time might have already run out for the king.

 

“I can't go on.” Edward eased into a chair in Queen Josephine's living room, his son Luke at attention just behind him. “I'm sick, and I'm not getting better.”

“What does the doctor say?” Josephine asked, concerned as she realized that every day Edward looked more and more ill. Over the past three and a half months, she'd grown rather fond of Edward, who seemed to be a man who'd finally outgrown the wildness of his youth. She knew he'd tried to be a support to her through the trials of the events that had rocked the country.

“He thinks it's stress-related. All I know is I'm so weary it's hard to think. And Edenbourg needs more than I can give at this time.” Edward raked a hand wearily across his forehead, looking as if the effort of the minimal act had exhausted him.

Luke Stanbury placed a hand on his father's shoulder and frowned at Josephine. “I've tried to convince him just to take a vacation, to get away and give himself some time to get back on his feet.”

Edward shook his head and smiled faintly up at
his eldest son, then looked back at Josephine. “This country doesn't need a vacationing king. There has been too much turmoil since Michael's kidnapping. The country needs stability and I'm afraid I can't be what is needed at this time.”

“Edward, I've told you before. You must do what is best for you, and I will support whatever decision you make.” Although Josephine meant what she said, her heart cried out at the thought of yet another man sitting on the throne where her Michael should be.

“Then it's settled,” Edward said. “On the last Saturday of this month, there will be a coronation crowning Luke King of Edenbourg.”

“A coronation?” Josephine looked at him in surprise. It was one thing for Luke to act as king in Michael's absence, quite another to be proclaimed the one and true king of the country.

“It's time, Josephine,” Edward said with obvious pain in his eyes. “The country has been floundering for too long. It is time for somebody to step up and take control.”

“I've tried to talk some sense into him,” Luke said helplessly.

“The country needs a real king,” Edward said adamantly.

He rose from his chair, as did Josephine.

“Before that happens, I hope we find Uncle Michael alive and well,” Luke said somberly as he
stood close enough to Edward that the older man could lean on him.

Josephine nodded, her emotions rising precariously close to the surface. “As I said, I will support whatever is in the best interest of Edenbourg.”

As they reached the door, Edward leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “I grieve with you,” he said softly. She knew he was not only talking about Michael's kidnapping, but also about Nicholas's reported death.

Josephine nodded, grateful when Edward and Luke left her alone.

She wanted to cry, but felt as if her body had been wrung dry by all the tears she'd cried over the past weeks. Her heart rebelled at the thought of Luke as king. In spite of his charm and his obvious devotion to Edward, Josephine didn't particularly care for her nephew.

It was nothing she could put her finger on, just a feeling she had. But, she no longer trusted her own feelings, for all of them were so intricately tied to Michael and his absence from her life.

She wasn't sure if she disliked Luke for genuine reasons or because she'd somehow unconsciously known when Edward became acting king that eventually, if Michael wasn't found and Nicholas remained in hiding, then Luke would be the one sitting on the throne.

Unless Dominique was carrying a boy. If the
child she carried was a son, then he would be the rightful heir to Edenbourg's throne. Dominique had agreed to have the sex of the baby determined, but she'd set up strict conditions.

The physician had sealed the results in an envelope that was now in Josephine's possession. The envelope was to be opened an hour before the coronation of the new king and only in the event that Michael wasn't found.

Although Nicholas was the rightful heir, Josephine didn't want him on the throne until they knew who was responsible for the kidnapping. Until the traitor was found, she felt nobody in her immediate family was safe.

But, she also sensed a danger with Luke becoming king. She didn't trust him, somehow knew that once he sat on the throne there would be no way for her family to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. She knew that if Dominique carried a son, the news of a new heir would rally the people behind her family.

As always, the approach of night deepened the despair, the utter ache in her heart. Would she know if Michael was already dead? Was that why her heart felt so empty, so profoundly grieved?

No, she couldn't lose hope. Isabel had finally confessed what she and Adam Sinclair were trying to do. Although Josephine feared for her daughter, she also clung to the hope that they would be suc
cessful, that they would find Michael alive and well.

She had to hang on to that hope. She had to believe that fate wouldn't be so cruel as to open her heart to the love she felt for her husband and not give her a chance to tell him of that love.

T
wo weeks. For two weeks Adam and Isabel had been going to meetings in the bunker with no positive results. They had listened to litany after litany of complaints and proposed changes, but had learned nothing that would lead them to the missing king.

Adam was now stretched out on the bed, a pad and pencil in hand. Isabel was in the bathroom taking a shower. He plumped the pillow behind him, then stared down at the notepad.

On it he'd written a list of potential palace suspects in the kidnapping. The list was dismally short. Edward…Luke…Luke's younger brother, Jake. It still made little sense that any of them would be involved simply to succeed to the throne.

He'd also made a list of names they had learned of people who belonged to the group they had successfully infiltrated. Unfortunately for most of them he only had first names. Nobody used their full name and it would have looked suspicious had they asked.

The few full names he'd managed to get had come from Pam, who continued to try to be a help, but simply didn't possess the information they wanted most.

He stared at the lists of names and tried to ignore the sound of the shower running in the next room, tried to suppress the vivid mental picture of Isabel standing naked beneath a steamy spray of water.

It was after two. Adam had spent the past two hours working on the clean-up in the tavern, and he'd been surprised to find Isabel still awake when he'd returned to the room.

Restless and anxiety-ridden because Luke's coronation was in less than a week, she had finally decided a long, hot shower might help her sleep.

Adam picked up his pencil once again and began to doodle on the paper as the water in the shower stopped running. He frowned. Now she was drying off, sliding a towel across the smooth skin of her shoulders, down her flat abdomen, over those silky, shapely legs.

Over the past three weeks he'd learned her nighttime routine. After drying off, she'd smooth on lo
tion, a light, fragrant lotion that smelled of lanolin and the faint whisper of peaches.

Then she'd spritz a dash of perfume just behind her ears, and it was that combination of lotion and perfume that filled the room each night, driving Adam to the very brink of lunacy.

He was still doodling on the pad when she left the bathroom moments later. Clad in the lavender nightgown and robe, she swept to her side of the bed and sat.

“I'm going to have to color my hair again,” she said and reached a hand up to touch a wet, shiny strand. “The red color is starting to wash out.”

“Before you do anything so drastic, we need to talk.”

She stretched out on her side of the bed facing him. He tried not to notice as her robe gaped open, giving him a perfect view of her silk-clad breasts. “Talk about what?”

Without makeup, the strength of her bold features was evident, providing her a kind of natural beauty that stirred deeply inside Adam. He knew those lush green eyes of hers would haunt him for a long time after their mock marriage was over.

“How long do we continue this, Isabel? How long do we continue living in this hole-in-the-wall, pretending to be people we are not? When do we say it's time to give up?”

Her eyes flashed with fire and her lips com
pressed for a moment. “When we find my father. When we know who the traitor is. That's when we stop.”

“What if we learn nothing in two months, three months…six months?” Adam drew a deep breath, knowing he was about to say something that would probably make her angry. “Isabel, it's possible we'll never find your father, that the people who are keeping him will never trust us enough to tell us where he is.”

She sat up facing him. “I don't believe that,” she said firmly, then added softly, “I can't believe that.”

Adam sighed. He'd watched her for these past weeks, felt the hope that never wavered inside her. He knew all about that kind of undeviating hope. He'd felt it himself for months after his father's plane had disappeared.

At that time, his hope had been for two separate things…hope that his father would be found alive and well, and the hope that there was a logical explanation for his disappearance that had nothing to do with treason.

But, as time had passed, Adam had been forced to face some painful conclusions. When neither his father nor wreckage of the plane had been found, he'd been forced to accept the possibility that his father had done the unimaginable and betrayed the country he once had professed to love.

He worried that Isabel hadn't even begun to entertain alternatives to her father being found safe and sound. She steadfastly refused to think the outcome might not be good. “Isabel, we can't play this game forever. You have to face the possibility that we might never find your father, that you might never know what happened to your father.”

“I can't.” The strength that had momentarily tautened her features faded away. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes grew impossibly luminous. “Please, Adam, don't try to strip away my hope.” She reached out and took one of his hands in hers.

“It's all I have and I need it to get through all of this.”

He squeezed her hand, unable to force the issue, unwilling to steal away her hope the way his had been taken from him. “I don't want to take away your hope, Isabel. But, eventually we both have to get back to our jobs and our lives.”

“I know.” She pulled her hand from his and sighed. She pulled her legs up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them, looking far younger than her years. “I just feel like we're so close to getting answers.”

“I can't help but think maybe we're wrong to be so focused on the throne as the ultimate goal,” Adam said, gazing down at his lists and doodling in frustration. “Maybe it's more personal than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know, maybe the goal of the mastermind is not to gain control of the throne, but rather to punish your father or your family for some reason.”

“As king, my father often had to make difficult decisions, decisions that didn't always make everyone happy. But I can't think of anyone working in the palace with my father who might have been that angry with him, and we know the mastermind is in the palace.”

“I've been sitting here making lists of names, but no warning bells have jingled in my head,” Adam explained.

“Looks like you've been doing more than making lists.” She smiled at him. “I didn't realize you were such an artist,” she teased and pointed to his doodling.

“It's supposed to be a honeycomb,” Adam explained.

She frowned and reached out for the pad. He handed it to her. “What?” he asked.

“This reminds me of something….” Her frown deepened.

“What?” he asked and sat up straight.

She stared at his pad with an intensity that shot adrenaline through him. “What, Isabel? What does it remind you of?” he asked softly.

Her eyes didn't waver from the paper. Seconds
ticked by and suddenly her gaze flew to his. “The catacombs,” she exclaimed.

“The catacombs? What catacombs?”

Her eyes were lit with excitement. “My father showed me a picture of them. They're ancient…mostly in ruins…and run beneath the palace.” Her hands reached out and grabbed Adam's tightly. “Like honeycombs…they look like honeycombs running beneath the streets. Honeycombs…catacombs…perhaps the clue was in Shane's words after all.”

The adrenaline that had begun to soar through Adam now exploded. “How do you get to these catacombs?” he asked, shocked at the very idea of an ancient world beneath the streets.

“The only entryway I know is through the chapel. Behind the altar is a trap door that leads down to them. Adam…do you think he's there? Is it possible that's where they are holding my father?” She half rose from the bed, stopping only because he held tight to her hand. “We have to go…we have to see if he's there.”

“Be smart, Isabel, and slow down. We don't know how many people might be guarding him and I'm sure there must be another entrance and exit to these catacombs.” He rose from the bed, not releasing his hold on her hand. “We can't go in there unprepared and alone.”

She nodded, and he let go of her. “So, what do
we do? I know we need some manpower, but I'm not sure I trust royal security. I don't want the guilty to get word of what we're doing.”

“I agree. I've got a squad of men who would give their very lives for King Michael. They're good men, trustworthy and loyal.” He looked at his watch. “I can have them ready to move by dawn.” He grabbed his jeans and a shirt and headed for the bathroom.

“You aren't doing this without me,” Isabel said behind him. As he closed the bathroom door, he heard her grabbing clothes and knew she was dressing for battle…the battle to save her father.

He didn't even consider requesting that she stay here, let him and his men handle the situation. He knew better. There was no way he could keep her out of this. All he could do was hope that he could keep her safe.

 

The morning sun was just peeking over the horizon when Adam, Isabel and fifteen highly trained navy men descended silently on the chapel on the palace grounds.

Not a word was spoken as they entered the interior of the beautiful place of worship. All the planning, instructions and strategy had been laid out, gone over and solidified in the previous hours.

What Isabel wanted most was to forgo the hours of planning and simply storm the catacombs and
find her father. But Isabel had been trained in military matters. She'd been trained by one of the best—Adam.

As she listened to him outline the tactics they would use, her heart swelled with love. He was so smart, so strong and it was obvious, despite the rumors about his father, the men he'd chosen for this particular job admired and respected him.

As they started down the stone stairs revealed by a trap door just behind the chapel altar, Isabel was focused on only one thing…they had to find her father.

She was angry with herself for not thinking about the catacombs before. But the ancient burial grounds had long been forgotten by most of the people of Edenbourg.

As they descended into the depths of the earth, the air turned musty and stale, but the only sound discernible was Isabel's frantically beating heart. It echoed loudly in her ears, making her wonder if it was audible outside of her body.

The men moved like dark shadows soundlessly along the soft rock walls. Isabel knew the catacombs were an intricate network of corridors and rooms and that it might take hours or longer for all of them to be checked.

She was grateful for Adam's presence next to her. His nearness calmed her nerves, focused her
energy and eased the tension that was rife inside her.

Would they find her father? Would he be dead or alive? She couldn't imagine spending more than three months in this dark, dank place and was frightened by thoughts of what her father's condition might be if he were found alive.

Flashlights lit their way as they walked further and further away from the entrance and deeper and deeper into the ancient maze.

Here and there the walls were decorated with elaborate frescoes, religious scenes from the Bible painted onto the walls hundreds of years before. It was easy to see where there were actual graves as bricks and slabs of stone depicted final resting places.

With each new crevice or corridor they came upon, several of the men left the group to explore while Adam, Isabel and the rest continued forward.

Finally, they'd gone far enough that Adam and Isabel were alone to proceed along one of the narrow corridors. The flashlight Adam held barely penetrated the black abyss before them.

She fought the need to reach for his hand, knowing he had the flashlight in one and would need his other to be free to reach for his gun. Besides, she'd been trained for battle, trained both physically and mentally. She shouldn't need to hold anyone's hand.

With every step a prayer was on her lips…a prayer to find her father alive. She and her father had battled often because of Isabel rebelling against the role of traditional princess, but those battles were insignificant now. She would gladly adhere to anything her father requested of her in exchange for his health and well-being.

She felt as if they'd walked for hours when she thought she saw a faint illumination in the distance that had nothing to do with Adam's light. She grabbed Adam's arm and pointed. Instantly he clicked off his light.

Ahead, from around a bend in the path, spilled a faint light. Isabel's heart thundered and the hair on the nape of her neck rose. Somebody with a light was just around the corner and she knew it couldn't be any of their group.

Adam gently pushed her behind him as they advanced on the corner. She felt rather than heard the sharp intake of his breath as he peered around, then pressed back against her.

Emotion raced through Isabel at his reaction. Was it her father? Had he seen her father lying dead in this primitive burial ground? She swallowed hard, preparing herself for whatever lay beyond the bend of the wall.

Leaning past Adam, she peered around the corner. Shock riveted through her as she saw Willie
Tammerick seated on a folding chair next to what appeared to be a small room enclosed by bars.

Willie Tammerick…friendly King's Men Tavern patron, perpetual drunk and easygoing riffraff, was apparently not as friendly, drunk or easygoing as he pretended.

Before Adam could stop her, Isabel spun around the corner. “Hey, Willie boy,” she said with a lightness of tone that belied the tight constriction of her chest. Willie jumped up, a pistol trained on her. “They told me you were here,” she bluffed.

He seemed to relax a little. He sat back down, but didn't lower the gun. “I figured eventually I'd see you down here, you being family to Shane and all.”

Isabel pointed to the bars across the entry of a tiny chamber. “Is he in there?” Willie nodded and heart pounding, Isabel stepped up to the bars and peered into the small area lit only with two torches.