The Disenchanted Duke Read online

  The thought jarred her down to her toes.

  Love?

  When had that happened?

  No, it wasn't love, she insisted silently, it was lust, pure—or not so pure—and simple. Well, maybe not simple, either, but—

  Damn, what had he done to her? Her brain felt like Swiss cheese.

  She threw open the terrace door to confront Max and perhaps her own wavering thoughts.

  "Look, don't come skulking around here. I'm not going to—"

  Her words vanished as Salim grabbed her by the throat and shoved her back into her room.

  Chapter 16

  By the time Max and his uncle had returned from the garden to the dining area, Max had decided to call it an early evening.

  There was a knowing look in the king's eyes as he looked at him.

  "I understand. There are things you have to tend to." There was a wistful smile on his face. "Tread careful, Max. Be sure things aren't said in haste that you'll regret later."

  "I'll do my best," Max promised. Although with Cara, that wasn't always possible, he added silently.

  About to leave, Max's attention was drawn to the guard who came hurrying into the room. Seeking out the king, he whispered something in his monarch's ear.

  Marcus's expression changed immediately.

  Gone was the smile, replaced with the look of a leader who had once given serious thought to making a career within his country's military.

  "Are you certain?" he asked the guard, his voice deadly calm.

  "Yes, Your Highness. One dead, three wounded. But only he escaped."

  At his uncle's elbow, Max had an uneasy feeling. "What's wrong?"

  Marcus turned to him, his olive complexion uncharacteristically pale. "Salim has escaped. Someone killed the main guard at the prison. They think the escape was engineered by a person or persons associated with the Brothers of Darkness."

  It didn't matter who had engineered it, what mattered now was that Jalil Salim was free. And that he'd sworn vengeance against him and more importantly, against Cara.

  A sense of panic Max had never experienced before suddenly took root.

  He had to get to her before Salim did.

  "Your Highness," the guard was saying, "one of the guards said just before he lost consciousness he saw Salim and his men fleeing to the hills. Salim might be miles from here by now."

  The king was too aware of the fact that nothing was ever what it seemed. "And then again, he might not. Where is this guard now?" Marcus wanted to know.

  "They were taking him to the hospital as I left."

  "Send someone there, then and find out as much as you can." Marcus ordered. "And get as many men as you can together. Salim is not going to escape us a second time." Turning, he started to say something to Max, only to see that his nephew was hurrying away. "Do you know where to find him?"

  "I'm hoping I don't," Max tossed over his shoulder. He didn't have time to stay and elaborate. Not if what he was most afraid of was true.

  Afraid. He had never been afraid for himself. Not even as a child and never as a solider. That was what had made him so good at what he did. He was cautious only insofar as he did not want to alert his quarry, but fear for his own well being never held him in check, never held him back.

  He was afraid now. Very afraid.

  But again, not for himself.

  * * *

  Adrenaline shot through Cara with both barrels as she found herself staring into the dark eyes of a madman. Salim was cutting the air off from her windpipe, choking her. Clawing at his hand, Cara dug her nails into his flesh and raked them down.

  Yelping, Salim let her go, only to grab her arm as she tried to get away. He slammed her against the wall viciously.

  She hit the back of her head. The room started to spin as she tried vainly to focus on something, to keep it fixed in place.

  "What—what are you doing here?" she managed to spit out.

  Even before he answered, she knew. He was going to kill her.

  "Keeping my promise," Salim snarled, his unshaven face inches from hers. "I said I would kill you and that lowly scum you were with and now I will."

  Her blood turned to ice in her veins. There was no doubt in her mind that this man could kill a hundred people and not feel anything but a sense of satisfaction.

  Killing her would be easy.

  The hell it will, she silently promised. She was not going to go out that easily.

  There was no terror in her eyes. Salim wanted terror. "Beg for your life, you miserable bitch."

  She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead she glared at Salim defiantly, knowing that in the end begging would do no good, it would only feed something depraved inside him.

  "No."

  Enraged, he twisted her arm so hard, Cara sank down on her knees before him, unable to stand.

  "Beg," he roared maniacally.

  Dizzy, with pain shooting through her arm, she sank her teeth into his thigh.

  Screaming, Salim let her go, staggering backward.

  As she scrambled to her feet to get away, Salim grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back. The guttural cry that escaped her lips was completely involuntary.

  Running down the corridor, Max heard the cry.

  He didn't remember taking the last several yards to her door, hardly remembered hurling himself against the dark mahogany barrier. Horrible scenarios were all crowding his brain at once, chilling his heart as he broke into the room.

  Still holding her by her hair, Salim pulled Cara to her feet. A gun appeared from nowhere in his hand. He aimed it straight at Max.

  Max curbed his impulse to hurl himself at the man. Salim was crazy, he could turn the gun on Cara instead and shoot her. "There's no way you'll get out of the palace alive."

  Salim narrowed his eyes malevolently. Feebleminded infidel, didn't he understand that all this was for a greater good, a higher power? Lives, even his, were unimportant.

  "Perhaps, perhaps not. But this I promise you—the two of you will be dead by then. You and this worthless bitch."

  As his lips peeled back in a satisfied grin, Salim cocked his weapon, keeping the gun barrel trained straight at Max's head.

  "No," Cara shrieked, throwing her weight against Salim's hip as she simultaneously grabbed his arm to throw his aim off.

  Pain seared through her scalp as she could feel her hair being pulled out. The pain radiated all through her, down to her arm and her chest. Something felt as if it had burst into her shoulder.

  Her vision blurred again as she saw Max leap over a table and throw himself at Salim. The gun had fallen to the floor.

  So had she, Cara realized. Crawling over to the weapon, fighting an almost paralyzing feeling with fire streaming all through her, she managed to grab the gun and struggle to her knees.

  The two men in the room were locked in mortal combat. Salim was behind Max. His powerful arm locked around Max's neck, the terrorist was choking him.

  "Let him go!" she ordered Salim.

  Suddenly Max sank down to one knee and threw the man over his head. Salim crashed to the floor just as the king's personal guard came rushing into the room. The king was right behind them.

  "Take him," Marcus ordered angrily. "And this time, see that you keep him. I don't want anything to happen to him until he talks to me." After that, he added silently, the man's fate was in the hands of God and the guards.

  Dragging air into his depleted lungs, Max had turned to Cara.

  Feeling weaker by the moment, she let the weapon fall from her hands.

  "Are you all right?" she asked him.

  Wobbly, Cara tried to rise to her feet, but her knees didn't seem to want to work.

  "Oh God, you're bleeding." There was blood all over her gown, blocking the source of the wound. Real fear bit into him with numerous, sharp, pointy teeth. Max quickly picked her up into his arms before she could fall the rest of the way to the floor. "The bastard shot you."

  "All in
a day's work," she managed to mumble before her head fell back and the world, and Max and the room melted away.

  * * *

  The sensation of motion surrounding her penetrated Cara's fuzzy brain a second before she came to moments later.

  Her eyes were almost too heavy to open, but with superhuman effort she managed to push the lids up.

  Max was rushing down the long hallway with her. There was someone with him, a man she thought, but she couldn't be sure.

  "What...?"

  Thank God she was conscious. He was afraid she'd lapsed into a coma.

  "Don't try to talk," Max cautioned. "We're taking you to the hospital."

  "I don't need a hospital," she protested. She tried to get struggle of his arms. Or thought she tried. But there was no strength to draw on. Her arms felt absolutely useless. Both of them.

  The woman brought new meaning to the word stubborn. Max took it as a good sign.

  "You've been shot and you fainted, you need a doctor," he told her firmly.

  His voice echoed in Cara's head, as if they were both standing in some kind of cave. But it was too bright for a cave. Caves weren't bright, were they?

  "I didn't faint," she protested, using up all her available breath for the few words.

  Beyond stubborn, Max thought, angrily. But alive. Thank God, alive.

  "All right," he allowed, "you took a short nap. But you're still going to the hospital." Outside now, he looked around. Someone behind him said, "Over there," pointing to the limousine. Max rushed over to the king's car. "I'm not about to lose you just because you're too pigheaded to admit you need help."

  "You...can...help if...you...want," she breathed, each word an effort. "But I don't...need...it."

  In the back seat of the limousine, Max sat, holding her on his lap, his arms wrapped around her as he cradled her against him.

  He'd just said something to her. What was it? Her brain was having trouble holding onto things. Something about losing her.

  Was he trying to lose her?

  Or was he...

  Nothing made any sense so she stopped trying to make it. All she was aware of was the pain licking its way through her body and the strong arms that were around her. Trying to keep her safe.

  Sighing, she curled into him.

  "See, I told you. It's just a flesh wound." Cara shifted impatiently on the gurney, wanting to get going already.

  "A deep flesh wound," he reminded her of the doctor's diagnosis.

  Forced into a hospital gown, Cara reached down for the dress that had gotten ruined. She looked at it a little remorsefully.

  "A deep flesh wound," she echoed indulgently. "Nothing that won't heal." She pressed her lips together, trying to organize chaotic thoughts that refused to hold still for the process. She hated admitting this, but she hated not knowing more. "I'm a little fuzzy, did we get him?"

  "Yes, and this time, he's being kept under heavy guard. There won't be any repeat performances of tonight, I promise you." He'd almost lost her tonight. Max found the thought unbearable.

  "Good." She began to nod her head and thought better of it. Even the slightest movement seemed to echo in her brain. "Because I'm not sure how much more blood I have left to give to this cause." She didn't feel like moving. Cara looked at him. "I guess you saved my life."

  He inclined his head and then smiled. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if he'd been just a little slower.

  "And you saved mine."

  She blew out a breath. "They cancel each other out, then."

  He knew what she was doing and he wasn't going to let her get away with it that easily. "Not quite. In the Chinese culture, a life you save is yours forever."

  He was stretching things. "But you're not Chinese and neither am I."

  Max shook his head, refusing to let her shrug this off. "Doesn't matter."

  Okay, she'd play along. "I guess that means that your life's mine."

  He resisted the temptation of drawing her to him. Not yet. "And yours belongs to me."

  There was one logical approach to this, she thought. "Trade you."

  He laughed. "I don't think so."

  Cara pressed her lips together, afraid to let her mind go beyond the immediate moment. "So what are we going to do with these two lives we've got on our hands?"

  He tread slowly, testing the waters. Not wanting to scare her away. "Perhaps it means that we'll have to spend them together. I wouldn't want to see you misusing 'my' life."

  Her face was starting to lose its pale pallor. A twinkle entered her eyes. "Or you mine. Exactly what is it that you had in mind?"

  "A partnership." He watched her face as he spoke, wrapping his fingers around a small paper band in his pocket. "I've got more cases at my agency than I can handle and I could use a good investigator on the staff."

  He was offering her work. This was about work. Well, all right, she thought, making the best of it, trying to ignore the very real pang she felt because for a second, she'd thought, hoped, it was about something more. She was due for a change and she'd bet that his line of work paid better than hers.

  "Not staff," she reminded him. "Partner."

  Max nodded, knowing that she'd catch him on this. "Right."

  She blew out another breath, still struggling to steady her bearings. Her shoulder where the bullet had been dug out was beginning to throb. The medicine was wearing off. She knew it would get worse. "So we'll be working together."

  He could hardly contain himself, but because of the ground he was covering, he had to. "Yes."

  Her eyes looked into his. What would she have done if that dirtbag would have killed Max? She didn't think she could have borne it. "And living together?"

  His baby steps had decreased into half that. "Is that what you want?"

  She huffed. She'd been shot, and he was trying to play games with her? "I'm asking you what you want."

  Cara felt like punching him for the grin that curved his mouth. He was laughing at her, having fun at her expense. Maybe he didn't even mean that bit about being partners.

  "I thought you were a liberated woman who did whatever she wanted."

  "Yes, I am." Her patience, never at a premium, was beginning to disintegrate. "And what this liberated woman wants is to hear what's on your mind."

  The smile remained, but his eyes grew serious. "How about what's in my heart?"

  She realized she'd stopped breathing and took in a deep breath. "I'm flexible, you can start with another part of your anatomy."

  He cupped her face gently. "Cara—"

  Her pulse began to go into double time again. "Oh-oh, it's getting personal."

  He didn't want to dance this strange, guarded dance any longer. "It has to get personal. I'm not about to say I love you to a stranger."

  Her eyes widened at the revolution that came out of nowhere. "You love me?"

  "Yes." He didn't see why he had to spell it out for her. "Haven't you figured that out yet? I thought you were a good investigator."

  "I am," she protested, "but I never claimed to be a mind reader."

  "Then read this." Taking her hand, he opened it and placed her palm against his chest.

  Her breath was growing short in her lungs again. She licked her lips nervously. "It's beating."

  "For you."

  And then she smiled. Really smiled.

  He could have gotten lost in her smile, but he knew that was probably her plan. To decoy him. "Don't you have something you have to say to me?"

  "That's nice?" she offered innocently. When she saw the storm clouds gathering in his eyes, Cara became serious. Nerves rose up within her, colliding like butterflies that had had too much to drink. "All right, all right, this isn't easy for me. Every time I've gotten attached to someone, they've pulled away from me, given me back."

  She was afraid, he realized. Maybe that made two of them. He took her into his arms. "I've already unwrapped you and taken your tags off, Cara. I can't give you back." His eyes ca
ressed her face. "I don't want to give you back."

  Oh God, he was going to make her cry. She hated to cry. "Then what do you want?"

  Instead of answering her, he reached into his pocket and took out the small paper band. Taking her left hand in his, he slipped the band on her third finger.

  She stared at it, afraid to pull her thoughts together. "What is this?"

  "A cigar band. I got it from my uncle while the doctor was working on you." Maybe the wound had given her amnesia. "Like in that story you told Sheriff Adler's wife, remember?"

  "I remember," she whispered, emotion choking off her voice.

  "I want you to marry me, Cara."

  More than anything, she wanted to believe that it was possible. But she was a realist and she knew that there was no place for the mountains and the flatlands to meet.

  "And what, live here?" She looked away. "I don't fit in."

  He raised her chin with his hand and forced her to look at him. "No, back in California. I already told you, I want you to work with me and that's where my agency is. And you fit in everywhere," he told her firmly. "You just have to give yourself permission to believe that."

  There was a place where the mountains and the flatlands met. At the very junction. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. God knew she loved him enough to make it work. "You're serious."

  He raised his hand as if he were taking an oath. "Every word."

  She smiled, relaxing a little. "Then I guess it's safe to love you."

  But Max shook his head. "It's never going to be safe," he told her. When she looked confused, he explained, "You thrive on excitement, remember?"

  After tonight, she'd had enough excitement to last a very long time.

  "Having you love me is exciting enough," Cara assured him.

  He let go of the breath he'd been holding all along. "Then it's yes?"

  If she were any happier, she thought, she'd probably light up like a beacon. "Yes. How can I resist the man who holds my life in the palm of his hand?"

  There was only one thing left out, one thing to make this perfect. He looked into her eyes. "Tell me," he coaxed.

  She knew what he wanted. The words hovered on her lips, refusing to come out. They'd been beaten back so many times, she could get over the last hurdle. "You already know."