Her Every Pleasure (36 page)

“Hell, yes.”

“But I don’t want you to risk—”

“Darling,” he interrupted firmly. “You know me better than that.” He paused. “Think of it as my way of trying to show your people I am worthy of you.”

“But you
are
worthy of me! You don’t need to prove it to anyone! You could be killed! No, I forbid you from taking part—”

He silenced her with a finger over her lips. “Need I remind you what happened the last time you tried to protect me? All hell broke loose, as I recall.”

She jerked away from him. “I’m not going to let you die! Do you hear?”

“Sophia, you’ll be a queen, but you are not God. If I am called, then I must go. When it’s over, I will do whatever you want. As soon as this threat is put down. In our hearts, we already belong to each other, but if I were to fall, then you must marry someone else. And quickly. For the sake of any…child we might have created,” he forced out with a pang. “Even—the prince of Denmark—if you must.”

“Have you lost your wits?” she cried. “Denmark? After what he did to his wife?”

“Yes, well, I’m confident that you are smarter than he is.”

“I cannot believe we are even discussing this!”

“I’m sorry, Sophia.” He shook his head stubbornly, refusing to budge. “I could not resist you anymore. I need you too much. Nor would I take it back for all the world, loving you. But now I have to see this through. You are in danger, and by God, I will tear them apart before I let them hurt you. But if I marry you now, and then I die, the fact that your dead husband was your bodyguard is hardly going to win you any suitors.”

“Gabriel!”

“Better that you should lie about us than face public censure and disgrace.”

“Do you think I want to live if these bastards kill you?” she whispered. He could see her shaking.

“You have to. Especially if there’s a babe.”

“I think you want to die,” she accused him. “You want to go back to your precious Light, your angels. You don’t want to promise anything because you don’t want to get dragged down onto this miserable earth once more! I’m not a fool! That’s why you gave your brother your money, isn’t it? That’s why you swore never to kill again, why you fought me so hard. Don’t you love me enough to want to stay alive?”

“Of course I love you, and of course I don’t want to die! Don’t be absurd! But I should despise myself entirely if I ever cowered behind you.”

“Still your warrior pride takes precedence.”

“My love for you is everything,” he ground out fiercely, glaring at her.

“Love? How could you be so cruel to me? Making me love you so much I could die without you? How could you do this to me?”

“You didn’t give me much choice.” The more she eroded his certainty, the more he hardened his resolve. “Sophia, I will handle this threat, I assure you. But you’re going to have to be strong. Whatever happens to me, you need to stand for your people. Everyone is threatened by these monsters.”

“But I want you to stay with me. I don’t understand why you think you must go! There are plenty of other soldiers—”

“No. Don’t even travel down that road, my love. It will lead you nowhere. It’s not just you, my darling love, whose life is at stake,” he whispered, forcing himself to take a gentler tone. “It’s more than even Kavros.”

She looked at him in question, teary-eyed.

He shook his head. “Why do you think the Order of the Scorpion wants your island chain? The same reason Napoleon did, and the Russians, and the Austrians, and us.”

Her face turned pale as she absorbed his words. “Are you saying that these men have designs on all of Europe?”

“Not for their own power-lust, of course, but for Allah,” he answered dryly. “Now you understand the true threat we are dealing with.”

“Oh, God,” she breathed, looking away.

“Be brave,” he ordered her. “We both have our roles to play in this. You didn’t want a lapdog, and I expect more from you than some carefree Gypsy girl.”

“The Iron Major,” she murmured in a bitter tone, then sent him an accusing glance. “No mercy?”

He looked her in the eyes, and in that moment, Sophia knew it was as useless to try to dissuade him from his duty as it would have been to try to talk her out of claiming her destiny.

“None,” he answered.

God, she loved him, even as he dashed her hopes upon the rocks. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, fighting tears.

A thought of Leon trailed through her mind, her hardheaded old mentor taking her sternly in hand at their fencing practice.
“Come! I’m not going to baby you. Your enemies won’t! Now try again.”

“Sophia?” Gabriel murmured, watching her. “It was not my intention to hurt you.”

“You never wanted to kill anyone again,” she reminded him in angry reproach.

“Yes.” He did not flinch. “Until they came after you.”

It was pointless. He was stone. She shook her head, at a loss, and walked away.

Gabriel let her go; he seemed to understand her need to be alone right now, and in truth, he probably fared no better than she behind his stoic façade.

All she knew was that the time had come to be a princess. And if this was what it was going to be like, then maybe she should have opted for the lounging life of exiled royalty.

They hadn’t even reached Kavros yet, and the crown was already proving to be so much heavier to bear than she had ever expected. But it was too late now. The Iron Major could have worn it without bending, but now she did not know if he would even be by her side in a month or so.

If her duty took her love from her, if she must sacrifice even her mate for Kavros, then, at least, God willing, she would have his babe.

She went into their hotel room alone, folded her arms across her belly, and wept like an orphaned child—which, in fact, she had been, not so many years ago.

CHAPTER
         TWENTY-ONE         

G
abriel hated himself for having to be so hard.

When he had come into their hotel room at Perpignan and found her with her eyes red and puffy, his leaden heart had sunk further, but she would not share her tears with him as she had the previous night at the country inn.

What could he do but let her treat him however she needed to? This whole ordeal was going to be difficult enough for her. He didn’t want to make it any worse. His calm, respectful manner in the following two days showed, he hoped, that he was there for her if she wanted him. But he kept a safe distance in case she did not.

God, he wished he had never had to say those things, advising her to marry someone else if he fell in the coming battle. He hated the thought of his woman with anyone else. And if he let himself dwell on the possibility of her giving birth to their child nine months hence, he became dismayed by the idea of not being there to raise his son or daughter.

But he told himself to calm down. To take it one step at a time. There was no reason for his ominous intimations of death. He quite knew how to handle a sword, after all. And besides, there was no point in distracting his mind with such a monumental question when it was still too soon to know if she was with child.
But what the hell, then?

What the hell was he going to do?
The mere notion of absentee fatherhood offended every atom of his being. It violated his sense of duty as a protector and turned his precious cavalry honor to ashes in his mouth.

He almost wished that he had never touched her. But he would not have traded the past couple of days with her for the rule of Heaven itself. Sophia owned him now in body and soul. He had never known such happiness as he had tasted in those brief hours, nor had he loved like this in all his life.

Whether he’d live to enjoy it for years, or if those most capricious hags of Greek myth, the Fates, had nearly finished weaving his little thread of the great tapestry—that remained to be seen.

In the meantime, he got them onto a good, seaworthy fishing boat and paid for their passage to Kavros, still traveling incognito as newlyweds.

Presently, the island chain his little “bride” would rule unfurled ahead.

Stark and dramatic crags of earth-brown rock climbed from surrounding waters of brilliant blue intensity. The sharp white of the hilltop town spilled down the shoulder of the main island like the curl of the white breakers smashing into the island’s rugged approaches.

Great chunks of stone made it treacherous going for boats unfamiliar with these waters. The British Navy had stationed its base over in the deepwater harbor, where the way was clear, but elsewhere—all around, among, between the various size islands of Kavros—these giant useless boulders loomed, tossed at random, as if Cyclops had had a temper tantrum.

With the sails billowing overhead, Gabriel ignored the rowdy fishermen trying to capture a shark that had glided by, making a pass at their bulging nets, and continued to study this country he might either move to or die for.

Kavros Town was an irregular collection of bleached white boxes—houses and shops—all piled and jumbled together along the angle of the hill. Dominating all was the smoothly rounded blue dome of the cathedral with its gleaming cross on top.

Clusters of deep green olive trees skirted the town and the hills here and there, giving the scrambling goats a little shade. He spotted the ruins of an ancient something or other—only the outline of the sand-strewn foundations and a few marble columns were left standing.

As they came closer, he spotted an impressive hilltop palace above a beach of glorious white sands. Sophia had mentioned the sprawling Mediterranean royal villa where she had grown up. To the best of his knowledge, it had been sealed up tightly ever since the royal family’s exile. On the beach below it, a collection of lazy fishing boats bobbed here and there, the sun-browned men done with the bulk of their work by midday.

With any number of questions he wanted to ask her, Gabriel glanced at Sophia to read her reaction to this first sight of her homeland after all these years.

But when he saw her face, his friendly questions withered on his tongue.

Her expression was muted, her stare faraway. Her taut, serious expression was more foreboding than happy, or even sentimental. He supposed he should not be surprised. Still, he was worried about her. “Are you all right?” he murmured cautiously.

She just looked at him.

She hadn’t had much to say to him since their argument on the beach at Perpignan. She hadn’t turned hostile at all, only cool and distant and withdrawn. He almost would have rather had her angry at him. Her temper was something he could deal with. This distance…she was shutting him out and he didn’t know how to respond.

She stared forward again.

Frustration surged through his veins. Eyeing her beside him, Gabriel abandoned his attempt at conversation and decided to keep his mind fixed on his task—getting her safely to shore.

Their first destination was the naval base, and as they approached, Gabriel saw it was much like the ones in India and Africa and the Caribbean and all the other spots around the world where Britain ruled the waves.

With the Union Jack flying above it, the base’s cannons bristled from the thick stone ramparts. He did not see as many Navy vessels in the harbor as he had expected and realized the big warships must be out on patrol.

The sheer power and force that the first-rates represented with all their bristling gun-decks were a major factor in keeping order throughout the Mediterranean. They held the Barbary pirates away from the merchant ships trundling past, kept petty rivals in the region from sneaking into each other’s back gardens, and generally made sure that everyone played nice together, Gabriel mused. He rested his hands on the rails, waiting as the fishing boat drifted to a halt, and watching patiently as the Navy cutter scuttled forth to intercept them.

Nobody got much closer than this to the base without first speaking to the lads in charge of the harbor. And if they didn’t like your answers, you were politely invited to leave.

When the cutter pulled up alongside the fishing boat, Gabriel gave the officers his name, but not Sophia’s, and asked permission for him and his “wife” to come aboard.

She flinched a little at the words; he could not bear to look at her.

“Commander Blake has been expecting us for some time,” he informed them. “We are his cousins from Nottinghamshire.”

“Nottinghamshire?” the young lieutenant exclaimed with a grin at the mention of that familiar place. “Welcome, sir.” Seeing that he was English, they let him and his missus aboard.

Gabriel thanked the fisherman, who looked on with nosy and suspicious curiosity while Sophia climbed down the ladder into the cutter. The sailors helped her into the boat, and when she was secure, Gabriel followed her down.

Once aboard the cutter, Gabriel produced the Foreign Office papers informing the crew who she really was.

The sailors’ eyes turned as round as English teacups, and the usual bowing and scraping began. It seemed to pain Sophia, this return to her Royal status, but she accepted their homage with her usual grace.

He supposed she had good reason to be upset. This was not how the princess royal was to have arrived to accept her throne. There was to have been great pomp and ceremony, celebrations, music, flower petals, speeches, and an army of attendants disembarking from the treasure ship scheduled to bring her people all the supplies they had been missing.

Instead, thanks to the action of her enemies, she had arrived in secret with nothing but the clothes on her back and one scoundrel of a bodyguard, he thought, who had some gall to show his face here, considering he was delivering the luscious beauty back to her nation, sans virtue.

Rather than announcing her royal presence, they kept up their pretense as ordinary visitors from England all the way into the base, where out in the commons, the sergeants were drilling their troops. Hearing the rhythmic bellows of their commands, Gabriel felt a twinge of nostalgia for his regiment; Sophia faltered, meanwhile, when she first stepped on Kavros soil. He reached out to steady her, but then she appeared to remind herself that the base was officially a little piece of England transplanted here. She nodded her thanks to him and then walked on.

“Sir!” the lieutenant exclaimed upon delivering them to Commander Blake. “Your
cousins
from
Nottinghamshire
are here!”

Wink.

Why, the precious boy seemed to think this was some mysterious code rather than just a quick lie that Gabriel had made up on the spot. Gabriel smiled wryly and explained himself to the sunburned Scot in charge of the Adriatic base. Commander Blake made them welcome, but even he gazed at Sophia in awe as he offered the lady a chair.

“Would you please send for the Archbishop Nectarios, Commander?” Sophia asked when the three of them were closeted in Blake’s private office. “He counseled my father and baptized me and my brothers when we were babes. I shall be counting on him to make the introductions between me and my people.”

“At once, Your Highness,” Commander Blake replied with a gallant bow. He opened the door to his office and ordered his clerk to send a carriage for the old holy man and bring him here, posthaste.

“I hope the manner of our arrival does not cause undue inconvenience,” Sophia said with dignified reserve.

“Not at all, Your Highness. All of Kavros has been anxiously awaiting you.”

“I did not deem it prudent to notify you ahead of time about when, where, and how we would arrive in case the message were intercepted,” Gabriel said sternly. “We have been traveling incognito, as you can see.” Then he took a few moments to explain how Sophia had been kidnapped by the Janissaries, along with the still looming threat from the Order of the Scorpion.

Sophia had asked him previously not to reveal Alexa’s role in the abduction, so Gabriel left that part out. Because Alexa’s ancestors had been loyal for generations, Sophia had generously decided that the girl’s whole family did not deserve to be disgraced due to the treachery of one.

Commander Blake was still looking at him in amazement when he finished his account and folded his arms across his chest. “This might be a good time to ask how many men you have under your command,” Gabriel added in a dry tone.

“Normally, two hundred,” Blake replied, “but right now, I’m afraid I’m down to only fifty.” He glanced guardedly at Sophia, as though unsure if it was acceptable to discuss such unpleasant matters in front of a lady. “There have been earthquakes lately throughout the area—”

“Bad?” she interrupted anxiously.

“A little stronger than the usual rumblings, Your Highness, but thankfully, there have only been a handful of fatalities. The aftershocks continue. I’m sure you’ll feel them. I dispatched a goodly number of my Marines to help sort out the towns that were hardest hit.”

“Thank you for lending assistance,” Sophia murmured. I’m sure with so many of our buildings already damaged by war, one good shake could bring down more of these structures than might appear at first to be at risk.”

“Just so. Fortunately, on the whole, you Greeks have a talent for building to withstand the test of time,” Blake said with a respectful smile.

Sophia gave him a grateful look.

“Well, considering that Ali Pasha seems to be the one behind all this,” Gabriel resumed in a businesslike tone, “it might be a fine time to parade the first-rates along his coastline for a show of strength. That should help remind the Terrible Turk to keep to his side of the water.”

“Capital idea,” Blake agreed, looking outraged on Sophia’s behalf. “I will send a summons to them at once. They should be able to get here within a few days. In the meantime, we’ve got about ten second- and third-rates on hand in case of any unpleasantness.”

“Excellent,” Gabriel murmured, nodding.

“Are we sure the big gunships can make it through the narrows?” Sophia asked in a more cautious tone.