“Intriguing, how does it work exactly?”
“Basically, I tune into the electromagnetic energy that surrounds human bodies and read the vibrations.
” That
was true, but it could also sound as if she was an overpriced charlatan. “And all of that,” she added quickly, as if she were trying to validate her worth, “is enough for me to spot menace in a crowd and give warning.”
She could see his eyes were in the ready-to-roll position. “Fascinating, and I, for one, am extremely pleased to know you’re here to lend a hand. It’s a dreadful business when we receive these kinds of threats.”
“Indeed. Do you have any ideas who might want your cousin taken out?”
He responded with a small shake of his head. “I don’t. But I’m sure Duncan has his fair share of enemies, as most people in power do.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good evening, sir and ma’am,” a black-clad staff member greeted as they arrived at the dining area, where the delicious scents of a lavish meal filtered from the service area.
An older man hurried forward, obviously a senior staff member. He bowed deferentially to Reid, “May I show you to your seat, Mr. Cameron?”
“Switch the name cards,” Reid snapped without looking at the man. “Miz Monroe will be sitting next to me.”
“Certainly, sir, this way.”
As they made their way forward, Brig caught sight of the prince standing on the opposite side of the table speaking to a group of guests. At his side, there was a twenty-some blonde who was listening to the conversation without joining in. The proprietary glint in the woman’s eye had Brig narrowing hers to take in the blonde’s
blue organza gown, which was cut very low in front, showing plenty of cleavage. Brig judged her to be a standard femme fatale type.
Was she a guest or an acquaintance? In the prince’s position, he was bound to have women in the background he could take to functions. She’d read somewhere that unmarried royals often drew on married women friends to act as escorts.
Reid had apparently followed Brig’s line of vision. “I see Pamela’s here. I’ll introduce you to her later.”
Brig glanced back at the glamorous blonde, trying to keep her voice casual. ”Is she a relative?”
Reid chuckled. “She hopes to be. In every practical sense, Duncan and Pamela and I were all raised together. Our families have always been close, and everyone expects that Pamela and Duncan will marry when he gets around to it.”
Brig hoped she didn’t look as
staggered as she felt.
The two-faced bastard, making a play for me when he has a wife in waiting.
It was foolish to feel disillusionment when she’d only just met the man, and logically she knew he wasn’t for her. Still, she couldn’t let go of the memory of how it felt to be pressed close to him, and in a small corner of her mind vague, imprecise hopes were dashed.
Reid went on, “Of course Pamela spent a lot of time on Earth while she was growing up, attending finishing schools, etcetera, to prepare for her role as regent.”
Ordering herself to settle down, Brig looked in Pamela’s direction again, catching the other woman casting her an assessing glance, almost as if she’d read Brig’s thoughts. Regardless of Pamela’s privileged lifestyle, Brig could only feel sorry for the woman. “Pamela must be a very even-tempered, understanding person, if the prince continues to play the field.”
Reid gave a mirthless laugh. “She’ll wait, no matter how many women Duncan sees on the side. At this point, she’s invested too much time to cut bait.”
In Brig’s opinion, that made her a material-minded idiot.
“Shall we?” Reid indicated to chairs the waiters were holding for them as the other guests started to take their places at the long table.
Brig’s position, on the side of the U-shaped table, gave her a clear view of the prince as he took his seat at the head of the table. Brig noted that Pamela wasn’t placed beside him. He sat between two older men. One she recognized as the previously mentioned Hagen Warner. The other man was doubtless a senior coalition dignitary.
Brig watched the prince conversing easily with both men. When they all laughed at something Warner said, the prince’s gaze swiveled sharply in Brig’s direction, almost as if she’d called to him. It wasn’t lost on her that His Highness hadn’t looked around to locate her whereabouts. He’d known exactly where she was sitting. When their eyes connected and she saw the promise of later intimacy in his gaze, a fresh stream of anger raced through her. Abruptly, she looked away and lifted her wine glass. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of conjecture that crossed Cameron’s face. She looked at back at Reid. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about Nevis’s history?”
Signaling to a waiter to refill his wine glass, Reid looked pleased at the request. “Well, as you have doubtless guessed,” he began, “we’re all descended from a group of Scottish highlanders who discovered the planet back in twenty-two-fifteen…”
Brig listened to him while she maintained her focus on the room and ate small portions of her seafood appetizer. Reid obviously liked the sound of his own voice, and with one arm spread across the back of his chair, he drank his fourth glass of wine and expounded in resonant tones on the colonization, customs and traditions of his home world.
All Brig had to do was nod and make occasional interested sounds. At the same time, she was peripherally aware that Duncan Cameron glanced in her direction several times. Since she didn’t need to look at him to sense danger around him, she’d be damned if she was going to let him tantalize her with those high-voltage eyes of his.
When Reid stopped talking to signal to a staff member to refill his wine glass yet again, Brig turned to speak to the male delegate on her right, a pleasant looking man called Kali Tofka with unusual bottle-green eyes and a drooping mustache. Brig judged to be in his late thirties, and playing her role, she discussed rock samples,
the properties of minerals
and chemical tests. All the while,
she orchestrated the conversation so Tofka did most of the talking, saving her from having to fabricate too much.
As the seven-course meal drew to an end, Brig heard sounds that indicated a band was setting up in the ballroom. She drew a small sigh of relief. Once the dancing began, she could return to the sidelines.
The high-ceilinged ballroom was larger than the banquet area. The musicians had already picked up their instruments and the first dance was underway when Brig entered, trailing behind Cameron and his group.
Reid walked beside Brig, still acting as her escort. He seemed perfectly sober despite the large amount of alcohol he’d consumed. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.
“Maybe later,” she said. “I’d better stay on the sidelines for the moment, now that everyone is on the move.”
Reid’s expression gleamed with amusement once more. He lowered his voice, “I understand perfectly. Your assignment must come first.”
As he headed off toward a group of females, presumably to ask one of them to dance, Brig took up a secluded spot across from the long mirrored wall where she could watch the reflected action on the dance floor. At the same time, she kept an eye on the length of French doors that opened out onto a wide terrace. She knew there were two armed guards stationed outside, but she could move faster if necessary.
Duncan Cameron,
the cur,
as she now thought of him, appeared to be having a very good time in his role of host, displaying an easy manner as he moved from one group of emissaries to the next.
When a waiter approached Brig with a tray of champagne, she figured what the hell and lifted a flute. Admittedly, it was her third glass, but she’d spread them over several hours—
“Hello, there. I’m Pamela McFarlane.”
At the sound of the high-pitched reedy voice directly behind her, Brig almost choked on her mouthful of champagne. She spun to face the other woman. “Hi, I’m Brig Monroe.”
Pamela’s pale hair was caught up at the sides with diamond clips, displaying her perfectly molded face. She looked Brig up and down in a superior manner, as if she were questioning a servant. “I don’t believe I know you. What planet are you representing?”
Brig figured the other woman must have noticed Cameron’s byplay during dinner and she’d come to mark her territory. Curious to see how an aristocrat did battle with a perceived rival, Brig put on her game face. “No, we’ve never met. This is my first trip to Nevis, and I’m here on behalf of Asterrel, in the Xerpas System.”
Pamela widened her pale blue eyes. “The Xerpas system…isn’t that comprised mainly of backwater worlds where the opposing factions are constantly fighting?”
Brig didn’t rise to the bait, responding as though she were dealing with a temperamental child. “Well, since most of the planets in the Xerpas system are newly colonized, it might appear that way.”
Pamela’s red-glossed mouth stretched in a brittle smile. “It certainly does to the forward-thinking worlds.” Her eyes glinted as she leaned in, as if to impart a secret. “Tell me, are all the females on your planet as large and bulky as you are?”
Since Brig was comfortable in her own skin, she wasn’t fazed by the petty insult. “Indeed,” she said smoothly. “We Asterrelians are known throughout the universe as a strapping race. In fact, our national sport is arm-wrestling.”
Apparently not comprehending that Brig was mocking her, Pamela’s face went comically blank for long seconds. “Well,” she said, “you have my sympathy. You can’t help being bred by uncouth outlanders, can you?” With that, she pivoted in a flurry of blue organza and marched away.
Brig had to restrain herself from sticking her tongue out the woman’s back.
Ill-mannered twit. It serves Cameron right if he ends up with her.
As she
lifted her glass of champagne once more, a new male voice hailed her from behind, “Good evening. I’m a little late introducing myself. I’m Alec Walker.” He was tall and thin with brown eyes and a dark beard. “I’m related to the prince through marriage.”
“Right, nice to meet you.” She recalled from the dossier that Cameron had two sisters, and both of them had shares in his company. “You’re married to Elspeth, the prince’s elder sister, correct?”
Walker glanced away for a moment, lowering his voice, “I’m afraid Elspeth was tragically killed in a skiing accident several months ago.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry for your loss.” It seemed the dossier wasn’t as complete as she’d thought.
“It’s all right. You couldn’t know.” He cleared his throat. “I understand that you’re here as an advisor of sorts.”
“I am, yes.” Seemingly, Cameron had given the same cover story to all his relatives or they’d spoken among themselves. She wondered if Walker had inherited Elspeth’s portion, and if he could have had something to do with her demise. A skiing accident would be a very convenient way to get rid of an unwanted spouse.
To see his reaction, she lowered her voice, “I don’t know if Reid told you, but I’m a mind-reader of sorts.” She watched the subtle flaring of his eyes. Yep, he had something to hide, but most people did. Sometimes Brig got an immediate zing from a person, indicating their guilt, but most times it took a while to detect an individual’s true motives. She asked the same question she’d asked Reid, “Are you taking part in the trade talks?”
He nodded. “In a way, I sometimes act as Duncan’s deputy.” He looked over her shoulder as he spoke. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I see someone that I must speak to.”
As he turned and walked away, Brig watched him. He didn’t head toward anyone, but went straight to the bar. Yeah, he bore watching all right.
In the next instant, Brig’s senses zinged big time. She turned to see the prince approaching. His walk was slow and fluid, adding to the seductive power he exuded. He smiled with a twinkle in his eye. “Good evening, Miz Brig. You look amazing in that gown, and I like your hair loose like that.”
“Good evening.” It took willpower to hold on to her temper while his gaze ran over the curves beneath her black sheath, making it obvious he was thinking of stripping it off her.
“I expected you to come to me,” he said softly, “so I could introduce you around, as you requested. So now I’ve come to ask you to dance.”
As much as she wanted to bare her teeth at his testosterone-dripping
form, she used passive aggression instead. “It’s all right,
sir
, you don’t have to pretend an interest for the onlookers. I can guard you perfectly well from here.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did I miss something? I thought I made it very clear how much I desire you.”
As satisfying as it would be to tell him to go straight to hell, he’d singled her out, and they were attracting attention. If she refused to dance with him, it would look odd. She flashed a humorless smile. “But of course, Your Royalness. When you put it like that, how can I refuse?”
* * * *
Duncan’s lips quirked at the title, even as he registered her prickly mood, he figured she was fending him off because she was having second thoughts. No problem, he was quite prepared to seduce her again. Her nearness was as exciting as hell, and being in her presence made him feel strangely light-hearted. “I assure you my ego isn’t so great that I expect every woman I meet to make herself available to me, but you, Brig Monroe, have made quite an impression.”
Her response was, “Start dancing. People are watching.”
He laughed, pulling her into his arms. As if on cue, the band went into a slow dreamy number. To make conversation, he asked, “Have you seen any suspicious individuals in the crowd?”
“No.”
“Hmm, then it would seem it might be just another false alarm.”
“It’s early days yet.”
From his perspective, the threat was fortuitous since it had brought her here. He edged her closer as they moved among the other couples, stroking his fingers along her bare back. Then at the first opportunity that they wouldn’t be overheard, he murmured against her hair, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you arrived.”