that was what she thought she said. But all she heard was the whisper of her own sigh as she lifted her face for his kiss.
Her heart pounded wildly as his lips met hers. Her hands crept to his chest, the palms flattening against his jacket.
‘Say yes,’ he whispered against her mouth, and all at once she wanted—she wanted...
A jet roared overhead, the sound filling the small, enclosed space like a peal of thunder. Dorian’s eyes flew open. She stared at the stranger blankly, and then sanity returned. She pushed against him; he let go of her, and she scrambled back against the door.
‘So much for gallantry,’ she said. Her voice trembled.
For a long moment his face was expressionless. Then, finally, the corner of his mouth lifted in a cool smile.
‘And so much for playing the reluctant maiden.’ He turned away from her and shifted into gear. The car plunged off over the kerb and shot down the road. ‘Have you figured out where you want to go yet, or are you still suffering from amnesia?’
Dorian’s chin rose. ‘You can drop me off at the International Arrivals building,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m sure I can get the information I need there—not that it matters now.’
His smile was like ice. ‘Yes. You’ve probably missed your plane to Timbuktu or wherever it is you were going.’
‘Barovnia,’ she said, her tone curt. ‘That’s where I was going until you—’ She cried out as the car came to a sudden halt. ‘Are you crazy? I could have gone through the wind...’
‘Barovnia? Did you say you’re flying to Barovnia?’
‘I said, I was supposed to fly to Barovnia.’ She lifted her bag into her lap and folded her arms across it. ‘But I won’t be doing that now. WorldWeek will just have to get its news from pool reporters.’ She swung towards him as he began to laugh. ‘I suppose that seems very funny to you, that I’d be worried about missing a plane to a—a primitive little kingdom?’
His laughter stopped as abruptly as it had begun. ‘If you think it’s so primitive,’ he said softly, ‘why are you going there?’
Dorian stared straight ahead of her. ‘Don’t you mean, why was I going there?’
‘All right. Why were you?’
All her anger came swelling up inside her. ‘To report back to my editor on—on what it’s like to watch a nation of poor peasants turn a man who’s never done a useful day’s work in his life into a little tin god.’
‘Really.’
His voice was soft as the rain, as menacing as the night, but Dorian was too far gone to hear it.
‘Yes, really. I know you can’t understand why I’m upset. And I suppose, in a way, you’re right. After all, nobody’s really going to miss that report except me. I mean, what does the world give a damn about Barovnia? But I’m going to lose my...’ She gasped and clutched at the dashboard as the car leaped forward. ‘Dammit, must you drive like a lunatic?’
‘I’m only trying to be helpful, Miss... What did you say your name was?’
‘Oliver. Dorian Oliver. And it’s too late to be helpful. While you were—while you were mauling me, my plane took off.’
The stranger flashed her a quick, cold smile. ‘Relax, Miss Oliver. Your plane is still on the ground.’ The tyres squealed as the car skidded to a stop. She watched, bewildered, as he got out of the car, came around to her side, and flung her door open. ‘Do you have your Press pass, Miss Oliver?’
‘Yes. Of course. But—’ She caught her breath as he leaned into the car, caught hold of her arm, and tugged her unceremoniously out into the darkness. ‘Would you mind explaining exactly what you’re doing?’
He clasped her arm tightly as he marched her forward towards a building marked ‘North Passenger Terminal’.
‘I’m saving your job for you,’ he said grimly.
He pushed the door open and tugged her into the lighted interior, and then he paused. There was a cluster of men near by, large men, all of whom had, apparently, been watching the door—and waiting, Dorian saw with some surprise, for their entrance. The stranger turned to her. ‘Wait here,’ he said in that same commanding voice he’d used to her before.
Dorian wanted to tell him what he could do with the order, but there was no time. He stepped forward and said something to one of the men, and then he turned to her again.
‘This gentleman will escort you to the plane, Miss Oliver.’
‘The plane?’ Dorian stared at him. ‘What plane?’
The stranger’s lips drew back from his teeth. ‘The plane to that primitive little kingdom. There’s no other plane that could possibly interest you, is there?’
She knew what he was thinking, and she met his cold smile with a contemptuous stare. Had he really ever believed she’d given a moment’s thought to all that nonsense about Martinique?
‘None. But how did you...?’ Dorian put her hand to her mouth. Lord. Oh, lord. That air of authority. The wealth. The dark good looks. Was it possible? Had she spent the past half-hour with Jack Alexander—and had she, then, blown any slim chance she might have had of getting an interview with the man?
She ran her tongue over lips that had gone dry. ‘Are you,’ she whispered, ‘I mean, it occurs to me that you—could you possibly be...?’
He let her stammer and then, mercifully, he saved her from further embarrassment.
‘Let me help you, Miss Oliver.’ His voice was silken. He stepped closer to her, until he was only a whisper away. ‘Will I be the new abdhan? That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?’
Dorian swallowed hard and nodded. ‘Yes.’
He watched her for a long, long moment, his handsome face devoid of all expression, and then he gave her a smile that was colder than the rain.
‘How could I be? The king of a primitive little country would have to be a barbarian, would he not?’ He caught hold of her wrist; she felt the sudden, fierce pressure of his fingers on the fragile bones. ‘He’d have to be a complete savage. Isn’t that right, Miss Oliver?’
‘Please.’ Dorian grimaced. ‘You’re hurting me...’
He almost flung her from him. ‘Relax, Miss Oliver. I can assure you, I am not the abdhan.’
She watched as he turned and strode away from her. The cluster of men who’d waited politely throughout the interchange fell into step around him. Within seconds, they’d vanished into the depths of the terminal.
‘Miss?’ She turned, startled. The man who was to guide her to the plane had come up beside her. He was as soft-spoken as he was huge. ‘We must hurry.’
Dorian nodded. ‘All right. Just one thing. That man—who is he?’
Her
