One Night with the Forbidden Princess Read online

  Her sudden disappearance had likely been noticed by now, and yet she did not feel any remorse. Her attendance at the international horse racing event had been aimed at the King’s esteemed guest of honour, Sheikh Khalil Al Rhas of Zayyar. The man that her father had informed her she was intended to marry.

  Olivia paused for a moment, tightness overcoming her throat for the second time in a few short hours. The way he had phrased it, as her ‘royal duty’, still rung in her ears. She was only twenty-six, for goodness’ sake. She wasn’t ready for this particular duty.

  She had always known it was customary for her father to hold the right to arrange or refuse the marriages of his offspring, but she had hoped the day would never come when she was called upon in such an archaic fashion. But now that day was here, and the Sheikh was set to propose to her formally any day now—before he completed his trip.

  Olivia pressed her forehead briefly against the stone wall. She felt cold through and through, as if she would never be warm again.

  ‘Drama queen.’ Cressida’s mocking voice sounded in her head.

  Her younger sister had always been such a calm, level-headed presence in her life. It had been five years since Cress had moved away to study in England. And not a day passed that she didn’t think of her. With barely a year between them, they had always been more like twins. Cress would know exactly what to say to alleviate the unbearable tension that had taken residence in her stomach today. She was sure of it.

  The tunnel was a straight path along the south boundary of the palace. It seemed like an endless mile before the staircase finally appeared. Olivia climbed it in the near darkness, relying solely on memory to make her way up to the partially hidden door in the stone wall. She pressed a slim crease, sliding open a panel and stepping through easily.

  The brightness of her dressing room was a welcome shock of cream and gold after the prolonged darkness. She took a moment, breathing in the clean air, before turning to slide the secret door closed.

  Olivia stilled at the sound of footsteps in the tunnel below. But that was impossible. In almost fifteen years of roaming she had never seen another soul down there. She had never even told her sisters.

  She stepped back down to the small landing at the top of the steps. She braced her hands on the stone balustrade to peer down into the darkness, biting the inside of her lip. Had one of the guards followed her?

  The footsteps suddenly disappeared and an eerie silence filled the stone caverns. Still she held her breath. Eight, nine, ten... Olivia exhaled slowly, cursing her overactive imagination. The silence of the tunnel tended to play with your mind after a while—she was clearly going insane.

  She turned around to move back to the doorway to her apartment—only to be blocked by a wall of muscle. Warm muscle that smelled of sandalwood and pine.

  Strong hands—definitely male—appeared like chains across her chest and turned her towards the wall. Her arms were pulled behind her and she instinctively pushed her body backwards, aiming the hardness of her skull towards her assailant’s nose. Even princesses were taught self-defence.

  ‘You have some skills, I see.’

  His voice was startling in the quiet darkness. A heavy accent made his threat even more worrying. This was most definitely not a palace guard.

  Olivia hissed, turning away and trying in vain to pull against the bands of iron strength. She squinted in the darkness, trying to see his face, a uniform, an insignia—anything that might tell her who he was and why he was here. If she could remember anything from the Palace Guards’ kidnapping talk it was one thing: Don’t say a thing.

  He pressed on what seemed to be a watch and turned a faint light downwards, lowering its beam to her oversized black trench coat and bare feet. She had swapped her designer blazer with someone else’s coat in the cloakroom before bolting. The vintage lemon cocktail dress she wore underneath was hardly ideal for going unnoticed in public.

  She turned her head and caught a brief glimpse of a hard jaw and gigantic shoulders before he plunged them into darkness once more.

  ‘You’re not exactly dressed for a quick escape,’ he mused.

  She almost laughed at that—almost. But being held captive by a mysterious hulk of a man had kind of dampened her infamous ability to see the bright side of every situation. As far as she could see there was nothing positive that could come of being abducted, which was the only logical solution for whoever this man was. He would recognise her any moment now and the game would be up.

  Perhaps they would ransom her, she thought wildly. How much was her life worth? Hopefully not too much...the kingdom was already facing complete financial ruin as it was.

  She gulped hard as she felt his hand slip just under her left armpit—a strange place to grope, indeed.

  ‘Don’t! Don’t you dare touch me.’ She gasped, arching her body away frantically. He tightened his hold on her slightly, barely even noticing her attempts to free herself.

  ‘You are in no danger from me,’ he gritted. ‘I must ensure the same can be said of you. Stand still.’

  Such was the authority in his voice that she stilled herself. She held her breath as his touch moved almost mechanically to her hip. His movements were calm and purposeful as he did the same to her other side, feeling inside the pockets of her coat and underneath to slide along the indentation of her waist.

  Her mind suddenly realised that he was searching for a weapon. She sucked in a breath as strong fingers brushed her ribcage, just underneath her breasts. Of all the situations in which to become excited by a man’s touch, this really wasn’t it. And yet her traitorous body had begun to respond to the intensity of the situation even as her heart thumped with fear.

  His breathing did not alter at all, and nor did he show any signs of noticing her response. As his hand finally moved to her thigh Olivia could take no more. She kicked out. Partly in shock at his boldness, but mostly because of the discomfort of her own reaction.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Do you honestly believe that I’m hiding a weapon in my underwear?’

  The stranger cleared his throat. ‘I have known people to hide weapons in the most ludicrous places. Women especially tend towards a certain...creativity.’

  ‘Do not put your hands on me again.’

  He was silent for a moment, and the only sound in the dark tunnel was that of their steady breaths mingling in the air between them.

  When he spoke again his accent was more pronounced, his voice deep and intimidating. ‘Tell me who you are and why you are attempting to break into the palace.’

  She paused at that. So he hadn’t recognised her yet. Surely if he was a kidnapper he would have come here knowing the faces of the royal family. Although it was dark, she supposed. Her choices were limited. She had no panic buttons down here—no guards within shouting distance.

  She needed to get away.

  She turned her head towards the door, breathing a little faster with anticipation as his shrewd gaze followed the movement and he saw the sliver of light coming through the gap.

  ‘You managed to find a way inside, I see,’ he said with surprise. ‘Come on, then. Let’s see what you were after, shall we?’

  He held her forearm tightly, dragging her behind him up the steps and into the lavish dressing room. Her eyes adjusted quickly once again, to take in the rows and rows of her wardrobes. The room was empty, as it would be for a while, seeing as her staff presumed her to be at the races for the rest of the day.

  Olivia gulped hard. She had just led an uncleared intruder right into the heart of the palace.

  She took a moment to look at him for the first time in the light.

  ‘It’s you...’ she breathed, realising it was the man from the racetrack.

  To his credit, he also looked momentarily stunned as he took in her face in the light.

  He was taller this close—almost an
entire foot taller than her five feet three inches. All the self-defence classes in the world wouldn’t give her a hope against such a brute. Dark hair, dark eyes and a jawline that would put Michelangelo’s David to shame. He had a fierce beauty about him—as if he had just stepped off a battlefield somewhere—and he thrummed with vitality.

  Her grandmother had always said she watched too many movies. Here she was, in very real danger, and she was romanticising her captor.

  ‘You have taken a break from saving servants, I see.’ His eyes lowered to take in the coat that covered her cocktail dress. ‘You seem to be a woman of many talents.’

  Olivia stayed completely silent as he spoke, knowing the more she said the more chance there was that he would put two and two together and guess her identity. She glanced to her left, searching the room for possible weapons for when the time came to run. If she could find something to kick at him, perhaps...

  She looked down at her bare feet, cursing her own stupidity.

  ‘We are in the south wing,’ he mused, looking around the room. ‘One of the royal apartments. How did you find out about the hidden tunnel?’

  She shrugged, looking down at her feet and taking one tentative step away from him while his attention wandered.

  ‘I saw how you slid down there. You knew exactly what you were doing. Just like you know what you are doing right now.’ He grabbed her arm, stopping her progress.

  She couldn’t help herself then—she cursed. A filthy word in Catalan that would make her father blush if he heard her.

  The stranger smiled darkly. ‘We’re going to get absolutely nowhere if you don’t speak to me. Why are you here?’ he asked again, releasing her arm and pushing her to sit down in the chair in front of her dressing table.

  Exactly where she needed to be.

  ‘I could ask you the same question,’ she replied, slowly reclining backwards under the pretext of stretching her tender muscles.

  ‘That’s simple. I’m here for people like you,’ he said simply, crossing his arms and staring down at her.

  ‘People like me?’ she asked breathlessly, her hand feeling blindly along the dressing table behind her for where she knew an alert button had been placed. She tried to calm her breath and prayed he would not see what she was doing. She felt a smooth round bump and pressed it quickly, holding her breath in case she needed to run.

  No sirens sounded...there were no flashing lights. She moved to press it again, only to have his fingers encircle her elbow and place her hands in her lap.

  ‘Keep your hands where I can see them.’

  It was clear this wasn’t going to be over any time soon.

  He tilted his head to one side, looking at her in such an intense way it made her toes curl into the carpet under her feet. His eyes lowered, darkening as they swept down her legs.

  The way he looked at her, the blatant male appreciation on his striking features, made something seem to uncoil in the pit of her stomach. She felt warm under his gaze and turned her face away in case she blushed.

  ‘Whomever you think I am, I can tell you now that you are very wrong.’

  His answering smile was raking, and made goosebumps break out across her arms.

  The stranger bent down so that their faces were level. ‘I think that, whoever you are, beautiful, you are a lot stronger and a lot more dangerous than you seem.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘YOU SOUND LIKE quite the expert,’ she purred, her catlike eyes seeming to glow in her pale features.

  Roman frowned. ‘I can tell by your eyes that you’re worried about being caught in the act, and yet you mock me.’

  ‘You’re quite arrogant and you deserve some mocking, I think,’ she replied sweetly.

  He fought the urge to laugh at this situation. Here he was, with a thief held captive inside the palace walls, and he was enjoying their verbal sparring too much to make a decision over what to do with her.

  He couldn’t simply waltz up to the King’s offices and present him with this gift. Problem one being that the King was out of the palace today, along with the rest of the royal family. Problem two being that the Palace Guard had no idea he would be here today. As far as they were concerned he would be just as much a criminal as the sharp-tongued redhead who sat staring at him as though she’d like to claw his eyes out.

  He would have to call Khal and tell him that their plan had encountered a minor diversion. It was no matter, really. He had identified a serious security blind spot and provided the Palace Guard with an attempted burglar to boot. All in all, quite a success.

  So why did the thought of handing her over make him feel so uneasy?

  He had got where he was by trusting his gut, and right now his gut was telling him that something wasn’t quite right here. That this woman was not all that she seemed. Something made him pause, his brain weighing the situation up piece by piece.

  ‘You are quite possibly the most ladylike thief I have ever encountered,’ he mused. ‘Do you always go barefoot on a job, or was today an exception?’

  ‘You assume that I make a habit of this?’ She glared up at him.

  ‘Correct me, then.’ He held her gaze evenly until she looked away.

  ‘You have quite an intense stare. It’s making me uneasy.’

  She crossed one slim leg over the other. Roman felt his throat go dry, and looked away from the expanse of creamy smooth skin below her dress.

  ‘I’m in the business of being observant,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘You might benefit from it yourself, then maybe next time you won’t get caught so easily.’

  ‘I assume you are the almighty authority on how to break into palaces?’ She raised her brows, sitting straighter in her seat.

  ‘Seeing as you arrived here first, I disagree,’ he countered.

  ‘Oh, now I see. You’re angry that you were beaten to the punch by a woman.’ She placed both feet flat on the floor, smoothing her dress over her knees. ‘This whole body-searching, intimidating act has all been one big ego-stroke for you.’

  ‘I searched you because I am not so pig-headed as to believe that you pose no threat to me simply because of your sex.’ Roman shook his head in disbelief, hating himself for rising to her bait. ‘Why would you assume that the fact you are a woman has anything to do with it?’

  She looked away from him then. ‘Because it always does.’

  ‘I think that’s far more telling of your low opinion of men than anything else.’ He raised his brows. ‘Trust me, I am an expert in assessing risks. Women are not somehow physically destined to surrender to men. I have seen it first-hand. I have trained women, watched them down men twice their size without breaking a sweat.’

  ‘You train women? To become...thieves?’ she said with disbelief. ‘Who on earth are you?’

  Roman laughed, not bothering to correct her assumption. ‘Let’s just say I am the last person you wish to meet while you’re on a job. Not just here, in this castle. Anywhere. I know how the criminal mind works. I have made it my business to be an expert in it.’

  ‘So if I’m a criminal, you’ll know what I am thinking right now?’ Her eyes darted towards the door once more.

  ‘I’m trying to.’ Roman poised himself in case she ran. ‘Just tell me what it is you’re after and I can make this easier for you. Tell me your name.’

  ‘No,’ she said plainly.

  Her body language was telling him that she was becoming increasingly more agitated with the situation. A flight risk if ever he’d seen one.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind she jumped from the chair, her speed surprising him for a split second before he moved himself. She made it a few steps before his arms were around her waist, holding her body tightly against his as she struggled in vain.

  ‘Please—just let me go,’ she breathed.

  The fear in her voice startle
d him, but his training had taught him not to release anyone until he had another means of restraining them.

  ‘You are making it very difficult for me to help you here. Do you know that?’ he said, holding her arms tightly to her sides and trying in vain to ignore the delicious scent of vanilla that drifted up from her hair.

  ‘Why...? Why would you offer to help after what you think of me?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘Because I believe in second chances.’ He spoke without thought, his answer surprising even himself. ‘You always have a choice—no matter how impossible it seems.’

  A strange look came over her face as their eyes locked. Her breath was coming hard and heavy against his chest but she’d stopped fighting him. Her eyes drifted away from him, settling on the distance with a mixture of resolve and deep sadness.

  ‘I’m not who you think I am.’

  Without warning a heavy weight came down behind him, followed by what he presumed to be a palace guard shouting in furious Catalan.

  Roman pushed the man backwards, holding his hands up in what he hoped resembled a peaceful motion.

  ‘I have authorisation,’ he began, motioning towards the lapel of his suit jacket. ‘The King knows I am here.’

  Roman felt his hands being pulled behind him into handcuffs and fought the urge to laugh as he looked up into a second guard’s furious face.

  ‘You will regret this.’

  He grunted at the pressure of a knee between his shoulder blades, knowing that they most likely did not speak a word of English. As his face was crushed against the carpet he looked sideways, just in time to see a pair of dainty bare feet appear by his side. Up close, he could see that a tiny hand-drawn daisy adorned each red-painted toenail.