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But she complied and untangled her naked self and scooted back against the wall. Her skin gleamed pale in the failing firelight, and his crotch danced a little jig at the sight she made with her long legs stretched out before her, her hair threading around the swell of her lovely breasts.
Christ, he was in trouble here.
That thought was unavoidable as he used the last of the kindling. He’d be heading outside again soon. He should plunge himself into the snow while he was out there. He didn’t think even the blizzard would cool him off.
He coaxed more of the sappy kindling to life with the glowing embers, carefully stoking the fire back while he considered Mirie’s words.
And the stab of pride at her opinion of him.
He had a life even though she couldn’t see it. He served his country and carried out his mission objective. He had only sacrificed the normal life he had never been much interested in anyway, for a much more noble cause.
Like Mirie herself, although she had been born to her cause. But she didn’t see his life from his perspective, and she didn’t sound as if she was all that content with her own.
Loneliness was eating away at her bit by bit.
He wasn’t surprised.
“I guess from your perspective it doesn’t seem like much of a life.” Distance helped him get a grip.
“Sounds a lot like my life.” She finally pulled on the cloak to cover her exquisite nakedness.
He snorted while tucking a branch deep into the embers.
“What?” she asked.
“I thought the same thing.”
He hadn’t meant the admission as an invitation, but she took it as one. Suddenly, she was covering the small distance between them, kneeling before the growing fire, stretching out her hands to embrace the heat.
Drew only heaved an inward sigh. He wanted her to warm herself, wished her nearness didn’t test him and her discontent didn’t add to his defenselessness against her.
She saw only how he trailed after her around the clock, not living a life that would fit anyone’s description of normal. Because she didn’t live a normal life, either. She had once run through these mountains, flirting with the boys, giving her virginity to the one she had allowed to catch her.
Now she gave herself to the only man within her grasp to stave off the grief of her losses. What a waste.
“You’ve been working on a miracle,” he said, hoping to lend her perspective. And some encouragement, which she didn’t hear enough as far as Drew was concerned. “Once the government stabilizes and the economy shows some improvement, you’ll get back to a normal life again. Then, so will I.”
She faced him with a scowl. “By the time this political situation stabilizes, I’ll be ready for the grave like Bunică.”
“Your Royal Highness,” he chided.
To his surprise, she scooted toward him, coming up full against him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Drei, call me by my name.”
Her breasts pressed against his back, and for a man who’d just spent himself in a big way, Drew’s body was on red alert again before he had a chance to suck in a breath.
He was in such trouble here. The very thought of her name on his lips collided with the memory of his body inside her, and he found himself clutching the stick hard enough that the damned thing broke. Wet wood. Go figure.
But it was the anchor he needed to resist turning around and grabbing her, pulling her against him and going for round two. There’d been no contact with the general. It was just the two of them, stranded here, alone.
She was upset. He got that. He also understood her isolation. He saw her life up close. He lived it. His own wasn’t much better except for the occasional furloughs. But unless they got back to normal between them, this “interlude” could only cost them. And cost big.
They were protector and the princess he’d been hired to protect. Period.
“Princess Mirela of Ninsele.”
“Drei.” She strung out his name on a long melodic syllable that reminded him of her earlier song.
Had it only been hours since the funeral?
The world had shifted since then.
“Mirela Selskala,” he tried again, earning only a huff of exasperation.
Then she surprised him by sinking backward, pulling him off balance and dragging him with her.
Suddenly they were tangled together in the weather cloak, too close to the fire, and Drew was forced to roll over and take her with him. She seized the advantage and twisted in his arms until she straddled him.
And Drew was already so far gone he didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Not when she lifted her mouth to his again in an unspoken demand and laughed that silken laughter that he never heard anymore, hadn’t realized how much he missed.
The last thing in the world Drew should do right now was give in. The absolute last. He’d do better to put the pistol in his mouth and pull the trigger.
But when she rocked her hips, swaying until she had his reawakening erection trapped between her smooth thighs, he could only ride out the motion and try to hide that she was about to shake loose any possibility of resistance.
But she already knew because she sighed softly and swayed erotically, opening herself to him, and he finally gave in. Arching his hips, he found her softness, and thrust home with her name spilling from his lips.
“Mirie.”
CHAPTER FIVE
MIRIE HAD ONLY wanted a moment, had asked for right now. By definition that meant their interlude in the cave wouldn’t last forever, yet when Drei tugged on the harness she wore and asked, “Ready?” she wanted to shake her head with an emphatic no.
A strange sense of panic took hold now that they were dressed again. She wasn’t ready to leave, wasn’t ready to face the aftermath of her choices.
And she wasn’t ready to end her time with Drei.
Not when she had felt more alive during these fantasy hours together than she had in a very long time.
“Yes,” she said. No!
He only nodded, so terribly distant.
She couldn’t read his mood. The handsome face that had been hungry with arousal and so alive with pleasure had solidified into an expression that should have been familiar.
In some ways it was. She recognized the features, but had never understood that the impassive facade was a mask. She had glimpsed the real him today.
The intimacy they shared made him a familiar stranger. The difference was striking enough to unsettle her. As she had dressed, she felt uncertain, as if somehow putting on clothes together had been more monumental than taking them off. Her nerves were playing games with her, making her thin-skinned after too many conflicting emotions, too many memories in a short span of time. The memories alone had always unsettled her.
But all was well now. Or should have been.
General Bogdanovich had made contact. The attackers had long since escaped, and when the storm eased up enough for travel, her close-protection unit had arrived to retrieve her. They were above on the ridge. They’d sent down dry clothing and gear so she could safely make the ascent.
Mirie should be relieved the threat was over, and grateful to be alive. But when she looked at Drei, securing his own harness with the hands that had just held her, pleasured her, she felt a pang of...something, and her breath hitched in her throat at the physical intensity of the sensation.
He glanced up. The hard lines of his face softened, and she could see past the mask. His eyes caressed her as if he might never see her again. She glimpsed longing, and regret.
For one instant, Mirie thought he would reach out and touch her. An acknowledgment of what had passed between them, the caring, the comfort, the contentment. But he didn’t. He said unnecessarily, “They’re waiting above.”
He didn’t bother extinguishing the fire. There wasn’t much life left in the flames anymore, just enough to light their way as they left this place of shelter and unexpected escape.
Nerves were definitely making her thin-skinned and moody. Emotion swelled in her chest as they stepped out onto the ledge.
The path was lit with emergency lanterns to mark their way, a path that ascended straight up from the ledge. From this vantage point, Mirie marveled that they had made the descent successfully at all. Surely she would never have made it had fear and a storm not driven them to desperation.
Drei braced her close as he secured her to the rappel lines, his expression shadowed by the artificial light, his motions perfunctory. Could he so easily forget the way they had found comfort together? It shouldn’t matter, but it did. She wasn’t sure what she had expected after breaching the boundaries of their relationship so completely. Maybe that was the problem. She had acted impulsively, and he had been forced to react to her. There had been no thought. She had felt, and hadn’t been willing to let that feeling go.
She considered this while clinging to the rappel line one-handed. The line lifted her off the ground, and she used her feet to maneuver the branches, twisting them out of her way to avoid the snow dislodged with each step.
The climb was steep even with assistance from above, but Mirie felt no weariness, only awareness of Drei a few feet behind her. He steadied her with an occasional hand on her bottom. He helped her shove aside branches to spare her the trouble when he could. He would have caught her had she fallen.
He protected her. That much was the same.
Then the climb was over. There were men handling the equipment on the ledge, their bodies harnessed around tree trunks to provide the leverage to work the lines. She could see them well before the general reached for her hands to drag her up the remaining distance.
And Mirie left behind her emotions in that snowy gorge, put her own mask back on. “Thank you, General. Gentlemen,” she said, as she gained her footing.
There were quiet greetings, but Mirie was left to the company of the general as the unit of armed men worked to bring up Drei safely.
General Bogdanovich was minister of security with the NRPG under his command. He draped a blanket around her shoulders, and Mirie quietly endured his inspection as she stared into the face dominated by a bushy mustache that overcompensated for a head of thinning brown hair.
“Thank God you’re all right,” he said.
She felt the same way about him. “What of the villagers? You said there were injuries. How serious?”
“Scrapes and falls in the rush to get to the village mostly. No casualties—yet. The priest is in critical condition. The poliţie transported him to the hospital.”
But he wasn’t dead yet. Mirie’s eyes fluttered shut, and she inclined her head. The nearest hospital was forty minutes away in the best of weather, and the storm had not yet spent itself.
God, please, please, please... “Will we be able to contain the fallout?”
“We can brief tomorrow, Your Royal Highness,” he said curtly. “The only thing that matters now is that you’re safe.”
Which told Mirie everything she needed to know.
She had brought this situation upon everyone.
She felt responsible for the consequences, for the potential consequences and for undermining the efforts of people who had worked so hard on behalf of the Ninselan people.
On her behalf.
And when Drei surfaced over the ledge, his gaze sought and found hers immediately, and she felt his glance along with the memory of him wrapped around her. Inside her.
Her longtime protector quickly took charge of her again. He forced her to drink, then eat a few bites of a protein bar while the soldiers dismantled the gear. After speaking privately with General Bogdanovich, Drei instructed her on their destination and settled her behind him on the snowmobile for the trek back to civilization.
But it wasn’t until their convoy had departed, as Mirie sat with her arms tight around Drei’s waist and cheek pressed to his back, wishing they could curl up and doze off together as they had earlier, that Mirie realized her right now might not be so simple after all. Not when the man she had looked past forever was no longer invisible.
* * *
“WELCOME BACK, Your Royal Highness.”
Mirie accepted the coffee cup from her private assistant. “Relieved to be back.”
That much was true.
She set the folder on the desk. The business she had missed since leaving for Alba Luncă could wait a little longer. She took a fortifying sip of the coffee and glanced at Drei. He stood inside the doorway, his usual post while inside her office. His black uniform helped a giant of a man blend into the woodwork no matter where they were.
He wasn’t blending this morning, which had everything to do with the fact that she knew what he looked like beneath the blazer, turtleneck and pants. Mirie took another hot swallow. The past twenty-four hours had taken a toll. Most especially on her senses.
“Why are you still hanging on to that newspaper?” she asked her assistant.
Helena Avadoni exhaled a sigh that said more than words ever could. A petite powerhouse of energy and organizational skill, she oversaw every detail of life from names of visiting dignitaries during events to spare panty hose if Mirie happened to snag her nylons on a chair leg.
“Are you ready?” Helena asked.
Mirie held out her hand and, bracing herself, scanned the bold headline that read:
Luca of Whitefish.
The headline was an obvious play on her own media nickname. “And so it begins.”
The story summed up the claim of a man named Luca Vadim, who had arrived in Ninsele from a town in the northwestern United States, asserting he was the product of an affair between a Ninselan envoy and the late king.
The article claimed Luca Vadim had heard reports of Mirie’s assassination and worried that if the throne was suddenly vacant, Ninsele might be plunged into another civil war. He’d come forward as a public service.
“A public service,” Mirie said aloud. “Really?”
Silence was her only reply. Both Helena and Drei knew the drill. This wasn’t the first time an imposter had come out of nowhere to claim a blood tie to the throne.
Mirie herself had set the precedent to inspire these copycats. After years in hiding, she’d resurfaced with enough political support to oust the dictator. But she’d been backed by royal supporters, and her first item of business had been proving her identity through DNA testing.
Drei opened the office door, and both the general and Georghe entered. Mirie left her desk to greet them.
“You haven’t slept.” She recognized the signs.
“Like anyone sleeps around here.” Georghe kissed her cheek.
Forcing a smile, she felt the weight of her choices even though Georghe was too kind to point out the obvious.
The chancellor of the Crown Cabinet was one of the most caring people Mirie had ever known. His inconspicuous competency was the reason he had survived the dictatorship when most civilian staffers had been executed or exiled.
