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“You’d best watch out for that one, ma’am,” her overprotective assistant had cautioned. “Especially since you refused to bring a full detail with us.”
“I’ll be perfectly fine,” Lara had replied. “I don’t want guards hovering around me day and night. Our smaller team is sufficient. I need some freedom for a change.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
But Lara knew that the guards were out there somewhere, watching in spite of her need to break free. She wasn’t so complacent as to think they had let her get away with her request so easily. She would always be a member of the royal family, even if her husband was no longer alive. She owned a mansion full of priceless artifacts and antiques, too. And that meant protection, since even now she had death threats and stalkers and all sorts of other worries to consider. Now was not the best time to have a photographer trailing her, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed publicity for her cause. She’d have to be very careful about what she revealed to him, however.
But this one—Gabriel—seemed capable of handling anything they might encounter together. The man had been embedded with American troops in the Middle East, had trailed drug lords and terrorists undercover through the jungle to get the real story. He seemed to be content and confident in his own skin, even if his eyes did hold a rim of sadness. Lara felt a strange sense of peace, the first real peace she’d felt since Theo’s death.
“This is really good,” Gabriel said now. “My compliments to the chef.”
“We have a good friend who is an accomplished chef,” Lara replied, happy that he approved of the cuisine. “Even though Deidre is an excellent cook, Herbert insists on cooking for me when I’m in town. He so enjoyed teaching Theo all about Creole and Cajun cooking and the difference between the two.”
“Spoken like a true Louisiana soul,” Gabriel replied. “Did your husband enjoy eating the local dishes?”
“Oh, yes. He was willing to try anything. Even alligator meat and frog legs—I’ve never managed to acquire a taste for either.”
The room went quiet as she remembered the good times she’d had with Theo. Finally, she glanced over at Gabriel and realized he’d put down his fork. “I’m so sorry. It’s just...I miss him.”
“I understand.” He pushed his plate away. “From everything I’ve seen and heard, he was a good man.”
“The best.” She blinked away her grief with a quick flutter of her lashes and a flash of regret in her expression. “Now, let’s move on, shall we? We have a lot to discuss. I’ll show you some of the other art pieces—some I own and others on loan for the reception we’ll hold here before the official show in the Quarter. As you know, I intend to be in New Orleans for at least three months. How long do you plan to...shadow me?”
He gave her a direct look. “I have the whole month.”
One month, weeks and weeks, with this nice-looking man. Lara had to wonder if they’d get along, or if they’d wind up getting on each other’s nerves.
“Don’t look so glum,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I don’t bite. I know my job and I know my place.”
She shook her head. “But I want you to feel comfortable. I want you to get the story right. You know, a lot of people think I’m just interfering, trying to get publicity or pity, anything you can think of. They can’t seem to grasp that I lived here for many years and I want to give back to the place I love.”
“I don’t care what other people think,” he replied. “I’m here to follow you and to capture that essence that makes the world so fascinated with you.”
“I’m not so sure I have an essence,” she retorted, embarrassed by the way he looked at her. “I do care or I wouldn’t be here.”
“I believe you.”
“Then let’s get started. I’ll have Deidre bring dessert and we’ll eat while we compare.”
For the next couple of hours they nibbled on their mini-fruit tarts and drank more coffee while they went over the details of the next week.
Finally, Lara glanced up and noticed the time. “It’s close to eleven. You must be exhausted.”
“No, I’m good.”
He gave her that look again, the one that made her blush. Was he one of those night owls who needed little sleep?
“But I imagine you’re tired.”
“I am rather fatigued,” she said, patting at her hair. She longed for a bubble bath and a good night’s sleep.
They both stood up and Lara was about to escort him to the door when Deidre walked in with a package. “Ma’am, I found this at the back door.”
“The back door? That’s odd. No one alerted us.” Lara took the square box and began to open it, thinking it might be the stationery she’d ordered from her favorite local paperie. “Do you mind if I check on this?” she asked Gabriel. “This might be the addressed invitations for the gala and silent auction we’re having at an old mansion in the Quarter. We had a typo in the first batch, so they were going to do a rush order to get them here in time.”
“Of course not.” He sat back and studied his notes.
Deidre watched as Lara tugged at the box. “I’ll put it away after you’re finished, ma’am.”
Lara pulled back the tissue paper and gasped, then backed against a chair, the box still in her hands.
Gabriel jumped up and grabbed the box. “That’s not invitations.”
Deidre peered over into the open package. “Oh, my. Oh, ma’am, I’m so sorry. I’ll take it away immediately.”
Lara nodded, put her hand to her throat. “Yes, please do.”
“No, don’t touch it.” Gabriel pushed Deidre away. “We need to alert security.”
“No. I don’t think—”
“Yes,” Gabriel said. “Just as a precaution.”
After Deidre turned away to pull out her phone, Lara regained some of her composure and stared up at Gabriel. “I think someone is trying to warn me away from New Orleans.”
He frowned, his gaze centered on her. “I think you might be right.”
She closed her eyes and thought about what she’d seen in that box. It was just superstition, nothing else. Or had the horror she’d feared started already? Had her tormentor already arrived in New Orleans?
Gabriel seemed to be as concerned as she was. He took her hand away, forcing her to open her eyes. “Who do you know that would send you a voodoo doll with a pin through the heart, Princess?”
TWO
“Really, this isn’t necessary.”
Gabriel glanced over at Lara Kincade, surprised that she had not wanted to call her security team or the police. He and Deidre had finally convinced her to call her head of security.
“But it is. You have to take these things seriously even if you think they’re pranks.” He studied the little satin-covered doll with the big blue eyes and the blond yarn hair. “A voodoo doll is a signal, prank or no prank.”
“I get this sort of ‘signal’ all the time,” she said, one arm wrapped around her waist, propping up the other arm she had lifted to her face. She stood just that way, her fingers curled against her chin, while she studied the red-satin-lined box with the odd-looking little figurine lying inside. “When I was young, I saw one of these in a store window down in the Quarter. I begged for it, but my mother refused to let me have it. She told me it wasn’t the kind of doll with which a little girl should play.”
“It’s not the kind of doll a grown woman should fool around with, either,” Gabriel replied, his English not nearly as proper as hers. But then, he’d practically grown up down in the Quarter. He’d learned street smarts long before he’d studied photography, and he’d learned how to read people long before he’d studied journalism. And something about the woman standing in front of him didn’t wash. She was too calm, too practiced. “You can’t take any chances.”
“They’re on the way,” Deidre said as she bustled around the room with a cell phone in her hand, her dark eyes wide with concern. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry.”
“Deidre, you did nothing wrong,” Lara replied, her eyes still on the package. “Stop apologizing and please stop pacing.”
Deidre skidded on the spot but looked anxious all the same. “I should have waited until we’d had the package checked by one of the guards. I know the protocol.”
“Deidre, remind me again—you didn’t see who delivered this?” Gabriel said.
Deidre looked at him, then glanced toward the princess.
“Go ahead, answer him,” Lara said on a gentle voice. “He’s here to observe and take pictures, but he might be able to help.”
“I didn’t see anyone, and Herbert has already gone home so we can’t ask him.”
“Maybe we can call him. He might have taken the package.” Gabriel wanted to reassure the girl. “I’m trying to piece things together before we call the police.”
“The police?” Lara glared at him and shook her head. “I told you, no police. My head of security—”
A door down the hallway burst open and a tall bull of a man with tight graying curls muscled his way into the room. “Your Highness, we’ve alerted the team. We’ve got guards stationed all around the property.”
“—is here right now.” Lara moved away from the offending package but waved her hand toward it. “Thank you, Malcolm. There it is. This is what all the fuss is about. Quite silly, honestly.”
Malcolm glanced at the voodoo doll, then turned to stare at Gabriel. “What’s your take?”
Gabriel lifted his eyebrows, surprised that anyone cared about his thoughts on this. He didn’t want to be involved in whatever was going on. He’d already met Malcolm Plankston through a thorough vetting interview that had left him wondering if the man would even let him go on with his assignment. Apparently, he’d been approved. “I take it very seriously,” he said. “I’ve encouraged Princess Lara to call the police.”
“And I’ve discouraged that notion,” Lara retorted. “It’s another of those odd pranks people tend to play on me. Some of the locals don’t appreciate my interest in rebuilding New Orleans. They tend to forget that I lived here for many years myself.”
“I agree with Mr. Murdock,” Malcolm said. “The authorities need to hear about this. You’ve stirred up publicity with this art fundraiser and the public knows you’re here. You’re vulnerable.”
“No,” Lara said, shaking her head. “The local police will laugh in my face and tell me this is just someone’s way of welcoming me home. You know how they scorn my presence here. They think I’m just another celebrity wanting media attention. I won’t bring them in on this and that’s final.”
Gabriel knew not to argue with a woman who stood tapping her expensive-looking leather pump against the polished wood floor. And he knew not to overstep his position by urging her head of security to go against her wishes.
Malcolm lifted the doll with a pair of tweezers that somehow appeared out of nowhere. Probably from inside Deidre’s deep pockets. The woman kept pulling things out of each one like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat.
“Odd little thing,” Malcolm said, his mustache twitching while he seemed to stop blinking. “I’ll take it out to the shop and analyze it, but I think it’s harmless.” He dropped the doll, then turned to the princess. “I won’t call in the New Orleans police this time, Your Highness. But if anything else out of the ordinary occurs, I will have to do my duty and report it.”
“Agreed,” Lara replied, clearly relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with anyone else official tonight. “I promise I’ll keep you apprised. Deidre and I will be diligent on that account, I can assure you.”
Malcolm cast a furrowed glance toward Deidre. “I assume you will make sure this never happens again.”
Deidre’s eyes misted. “You have my word on that, sir.”
“Good,” Malcolm the Intimidator said in his firm, gruff, no-nonsense voice. “Your position here could very well depend on it.”
Lara walked around the desk and took Deidre’s hand. “It’s all right. You are not going to be dismissed. Go on to bed and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”
Deidre rushed out of the room, her brown ponytail bouncing, her walnut-colored loafers squeaking.
Lara had a serene look on her face when she reached out her left hand and placed it on Malcolm’s gray wool suit. “Don’t ever reprimand Deidre in that way again, Mr. Plankston. Do I make myself clear?”
Malcolm swallowed, gulped and nodded. “I meant no disrespect, ma’am.”
“Good night, Malcolm.”
And the man was officially dismissed.
Which left Gabriel alone with a princess. An ice princess.
“Impressive,” he said, rocking back and forth on his boots. “I’ll have to remember not to get on your bad side.”
She gave him an emerald-tinged stare. “Deidre has been with me since the day I married Theo. She’s a dear girl—not much younger than me, really—a bit shy but very efficient. I won’t have Malcolm bullying her since his team seemed to have entirely missed this delivery’s arrival. He knows this wasn’t her fault. I’m the one who insisted on relaxing my security while I’m here. I’m the one who wanted a little more privacy and a lot less formality.”
Gabriel could understand her need for privacy, and he was pretty sure she should learn to relax a little more. But she was a princess, after all. “You’re known the world over. Privacy is a hard commodity to come by, especially when someone as famous and well loved as you comes to New Orleans. That’s the proverbial fishbowl way of living, Your Highness.”
“That is a way of living that I have found very wearisome, Mr. Murdock. And please, call me Lara.”
“As long as you call me Gabriel,” he reminded her with a soft twist of a smile. “And it’s time for me to go, too. Are you sure—”
“I’m fine. If I know Malcolm, he’ll have a guard at the front door to make sure you get out safely and I stay in safely. I’ll show you out.”
She walked him to the door, her heels clicking in a dainty princess way. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“That’s the plan.” He turned and took her hand. “Thank you for tea and dinner and...a bit of excitement.”
“Don’t get used to that,” she said on a soft smile. “My life is not as exciting as the world might think.”
Gabriel bid her good-night, thinking she was wrong on that.
And as he tipped his hand to the burly guard hovering on the front veranda, he was pretty sure the excitement was just beginning.
* * *
Lara sat at her dressing table in her upstairs bedroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. With no makeup and her hair down around her shoulders, she looked drawn and fatigued. Not exactly the image the world wanted to see.
She didn’t care about that right now. She only saw the shadow of a mourning widow in her gilded mirror. And so much more. How did she explain to the world that she was tired of being a princess and that she only wanted to be herself, free and unencumbered by rules and protocol and regulations and proper procedures?
Lara turned from her brocade-covered stool and tugged her cashmere robe around her. It was early spring in the South, but the nights could still be cool. She paced over the hundred-year-old, hand-woven rug centered in the sitting area of the big, comfortable bedroom then went to the French doors and stared out into the back garden. Her mind fluttered here and there like a butterfly.
Esther and Cullen had gotten married right here in the garden. She’d insisted on giving them a reception to remember, and they’d pulled it off without too many problems with the media. Friends of a princess getting married didn’t carry nearly as much weight as a princess getting married. Or remarried. The tabloids had a new story every week on that one. By the latest count, she should have been remarried about four times at least.
But she had yet even to go out with a man, let alone consider marrying one.
She thought of Gabriel Murdock and felt a strange tapping in her heart. He was certainly handsome in a swarthy, swaggering way. The man looked like a map of life, world-weary and scarred, well traveled and frayed, and interesting.
Too interesting. When he’d taken her hand, a pleasant warmth had moved through her and reminded her she was still a woman.
Her cell hummed. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“I got your invitation.”
“And I got your gift. You can’t scare me.”
“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to help you.”
