Cindy Gerard – Lone Star Prince (страница 2)

White knight, hell, he thought as the hushed whispers of Churchill and Cunningham—men he’d been glad to have guarding his back—drifted from the aft end of the Avenger. This little caper had international incident written all over it. It was going to take a damn sight more than his law degree to smooth some very ruffled, very royal European feathers when this thing broke wide open and the King and Queen of Obersbourg discovered their golden goose was missing.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him, figuring he’d deal with it when it happened. In the meantime, the only part he had left to play in this little scenario was to see Anna safely to the States. She was a resourceful woman; she’d figure out where to go from there. All he needed to do was get on with his life—and quit thinking about why this woman, above all women, could mess up his head in more ways than he could catalog or name.

William stirred in his sleep. Making a protective shield of her body, Anna folded him closer to her side. Her reaction was instinctive though, at the moment, unnecessary. There was no threat here. Not in this jet with Gregory. At least there was no physical threat. Uncertainty, however, was still an ugly reality. For her it was too real and too chilling even though, for the time being, they were safe from Ivan. And they were free from her parents, who had been willing to sacrifice her and, ultimately, William to Ivan in exchange for a financial bailout to save Obersbourg’s sovereignty.

William cried out, startling her out of her thoughts. His small voice was a panicked, frightened mew in the humming silence of the pressurized cabin.

“Shh, baby. Momma’s here.” Small for his age, William was often mistaken for a year younger than the precious age of four he would turn on his next birthday. She scooped him onto her lap, cradled his face to her breast, murmured in soothing tones. “It’s okay. Momma’s here.”

She pressed her lips to the top of his head, then laid her cheek there as he drifted back to sleep.

“Is he okay?” Gregory’s deep voice was a soft rumble of concern.

She nodded, wanting to assure him as much as herself. Enfolding William in security and warmth, she gained her own small measure of comfort from the solid pressure of his little compact body snuggled against her. “He’s fine. This has all just been a little frightening for him.”

Although he held his silence, Anna could feel Gregory’s dark gaze on her, then on William. She could sense the questions she knew he would ask. And she prayed for the answers that would satisfy him, asked forgiveness for the lies her lack of courage would force her to tell.

“Where’s his father, Anna? Why was it me you called and not him?”

His question was sharp and direct, fitting since this was the moment that had been looming in the shadows of all else that had happened. She’d been bracing for it, had carefully concocted the lie, woven it ruthlessly around the truth.

“He’s never been a part of William’s life,” she said, then slowed her words, shook off the accent only her nerves and fatigue had allowed to slip into her speech. “What his father and I shared...” Purposefully, she let the thought trail off, gave a small shrug, an invitation for him to draw his own conclusions. “I... I had hoped for more.”

“He abandoned you?” A swift, dangerous anger underscored each word.

“No,” she said quickly. “Oh, no. Not abandoned. Let’s...let’s just leave it at it wasn’t meant to be.”

In the darkness, she sensed Gregory’s gaze drift over William, studying his dark brown hair, his slight little frame, picturing, perhaps, his Mediterranean-blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry to have involved you in this, Gregory,” she said abruptly, speared by a piercing need to steer the attention away from William. “I...I didn’t know where else to turn.”

“I told you...” His voice was soft, even if his eyes were hard. “I told you that if you ever needed me I’d be there for you.”

Yes. Yes, he had told her, and even four years later, she’d known she could count on him. After all, it was his strength that had drawn her to him in the beginning—his strength and his earthy, middle class charm. At least she’d thought then that he was just a working man. It wasn’t until last year that she’d seen an article on Hunt Industries and realized that Gregory was the equivalent of American royalty. The irony was so very hard to accept.

She’d been feeling the burden of her position, of centuries of tradition, of familial obligations that fateful summer. In one of her rare acts of rebellion, she’d disguised herself as a village girl and escaped it all for a few hours to get lost in the fantasy atmosphere of the summer street festival—and ended up spending four glorious days and nights with Gregory. She’d given in completely to her instant and overpowering love for the exciting, fun-loving American who not only showed her a glimpse of a freedom she’d never known but also introduced her to true passion and the one great love of her life.

He’d been so...so American. Strong. Vital. So guilelessly arrogant in his self-confidence, utterly charming for his lack of pretense. And so beautiful. In his close-cropped military haircut, his crisply creased olive drabs that hugged his rugged body and showcased the breadth and the depth of the man within, he’d made her fall fast and hard. Though he could never know it, she’d also fallen forever.

A vivid memory of the day they parted hit her with a startling sense of presence. She remembered every pulse beat of that day, recalled with a sharp twist to her heart the moment she’d told him the truth about who she was, and why they couldn’t be together. Angry, he’d scribbled his phone number across an American dollar bill and pressed it into her hand. His blue eyes had been stormy, his jaw set in anger and pride. “If you ever need anything, call this number.”

In the diluted cabin light, she searched his eyes for any sign of the passion that had flared between them then. She saw only a sense of duty, a cold stare of indifference. Yet he had kept his promise. He had come for her. Tears stung her eyes, tightened her throat. If only someone could have been there to save Sara.

Sara was dead and now the twins were lost to Anna, too.

“Sara’s babies,” she murmured, suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness and cowardice, her fear for them equaled only by her sense of failure. “I shouldn’t have left without them.”

“Anna...there was no way we could get them out this trip. We cut it too close as it was. I promise you, the Alpha team made plans for my brother, Blake, to rescue them.”

She blinked back the moisture matting her lashes, knowing she was weak for wanting to believe him. Just as he was strong—as she’d known only he could be strong.

“You trusted me to come for you.” His tone forced her to focus on him, on now. When she did, his eyes restated his words as a question that demanded an answer.

She nodded. Yes. She had trusted him.

“Then trust me one more time. Blake will find them. He’ll bring them to you.”

Clinging to the strength of his conviction, she let her head drop back against the headrest, made herself draw a calming breath. Distancing herself from her fear for the babies, she smoothed a tuft of downy fine hair from William’s brow. “You never bargained for this. And I never dreamed I’d have to call on you someday. How can I ever thank you?”

“Level with me,” he said, point-blank, and her heart skipped several beats. “Tell me everything...everything so I can help get you out of this mess.”

Everything. She turned her head away. He deserved to know everything. She couldn’t give him what he deserved. Not now. She enfolded William closer to her side. Maybe not ever. But he was right. If she was going to survive this, if she was to escape Ivan’s far-reaching power and undermine his plans, she had to tell him something. Enough, at least, to keep William safe and keep her from becoming Ivan’s wife and political pawn for the rest of her life.

Aware suddenly that Gregory was speaking to her again, she turned to him, tried to clear her head.

“Why don’t you rest, Anna.” He offered the suggestion with a gentleness that was almost her undoing, as if he sensed she simply couldn’t handle anymore tonight. “You’re exhausted. Try to get some sleep. We’ll sort this all out after we land and get the two of you settled.”

She was too relieved with the reprieve to do anything but thank him again. And to ask the inevitable question.

“Where are we going?”

For the first time since he’d stolen her and William from their quarters in the west wing of Obersbourg Palace, he smiled. “Why, we’re going home, sugar.” A very slow, very deliberate western drawl had slipped into his voice like warm honey. “My home. West Texas.”

Texas. Arid plains, wide open spaces. Cowboys. She remembered his words from that summer when he’d talked about his home with such pride. Miles and miles of nothing but sky. And oil wells. Lots of oil wells.

It sounded like a good place to hide. It sounded like a good place to heal. Carefully, she offered her own smile. “I’ve always wanted to see a cowboy.”