but found the words stuck somewhere in her throat. She nodded instead, too worn out to fight this man on so many levels at the same time. Whatever had just happened between them had been a mistake. Her head relayed the message, his actions rein-forced it, but it wasn’t going to be easy to forget that for a few seconds at least, the world had slipped out of orbit.
“I’ll have your maid show you the way to the dining room for dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, then stopped. “Fine. I’ll have a tray sent up later. Tomorrow she can show you the way to the dining area.”
“It’s all right, I’m sure I can find my own way.”
She heard the sharpness in her tone. It was a tone she’d never have used in her own world. She’d been taught to be better than that, gentler, more willing to please others.
“The maid will show you the way.” Either he didn’t hear her response, or chose to ignore it. Then before she could say more he added, “It’s for your safety.”
That’s right, they wouldn’t want to lose their pigeon at this point, she thought wryly. Her expression must have given her away, for he shrugged his shoulders and turned.
“I’d recommend you retire early this evening. We have a full agenda tomorrow.”
The man could burst bubbles quicker than a pin in a balloon shop. So they were back to dictator and minion. There was no time for a snappy comeback before the connecting door snicked shut behind his silent departure.
At least she had all night to pull herself together. Enough time, she hoped, to resurrect her defenses and to remember, all too vividly, the major’s words from earlier that day. His directive to trust no one. Including himself. Especially him.
Lucius wondered if he’d lost his mind. What else could account for the few moments when he’d stood over Jane and no longer thought of her as a pawn in a dangerous mission? He’d forgotten everything except for the way her dark eyes flashed fire, her ridiculous phrase about primitive urges and the white-hot stab of lust slicing through him like an inferno sweeping across dry timber.
He’d been an operative long enough to know that desire and adrenaline were twin cousins under tense situations. But that knowledge had deserted him without a qualm, to be replaced by other knowledge. The certainty that, if he’d pushed moments ago, he’d not be standing, still breathing heavily, on one side of a two-foot thick wall right now, with her on the other side.
He’d seen it in her gaze, anger giving way to wariness, wariness slipping into desire, a heartbeat away from capitulation. He’d registered the way her breath hitched a notch, her pulse escalated in the hollow of her throat. One step, one minor movement forward and he’d know if she responded with the same lightning quickness he’d observed in her thought process, if she tasted as sweet as she looked.
And it was that thought that had stopped him cold. Days ago he’d never have met Jane Richards, their paths would never have crossed, their destinies never intermingled. But she’d been right earlier when she’d accused him of forcing her into limited choices.
He’d brought her to Vendari, against his better judgment, and thrust her into a mission fraught with danger on all sides. What kind of low-life scum was he that he’d place her in more peril? The kind that came with an emotional price tag.
He was going to do everything in his power to keep her safe, but he couldn’t do that if he led her into a physical relationship based on nothing more than close quarters, fear and dependence on her side, dominance and power on his. Like a lamb to slaughter, he could manipulate her total dependence on him, her vulnerability without him, until she wouldn’t know the difference between her abductor and her angel.
But he would.
Maybe that few minutes was meant as a sign—a warning that for some reason this woman tugged at emotions he’d thought locked and buried away, at least as long as a mission was involved. And now that he knew, knew to tread lightly, he could save them both pain.
The mission came first and, as long as Jane was a key component of the mission, any feelings he might experience around her had either to be kept strictly under control or downright ignored. Not easy, he accepted, crossing into the room he was to occupy during the duration of this stay in Dubruchek. Not easy at all when this librarian from Sioux Falls slipped through his best defenses against personal involvement—with anyone.
But he’d handled difficult, if not impossible, tasks before. He could, and would handle this one. Both of their lives, as well as the lives of his team members depended on it.
Chapter 4
In spite of a night spent tossing and turning, Jane did find herself feeling more refreshed in the morning. She thought she could get used to sleeping between Irish linen sheets every night. But even as the thought materialized it was followed quickly by reality. The reality that this was going to be her first full day of playing Elena Rostov. Or at least trying to.
“Is Major McConneghy awake?” she asked, already guessing the answer. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would lag around in bed.
“The major wakes with the sun.” Ekaterina walked back and forth between the main bedroom and the walk-in closet, her hands busy with dresses, accessories and shoes. “He swims each morning in the pool behind the villa.”
No wonder the man looked like he had abs of steel beneath khaki, she thought. Not that she’d noticed. Much.
“And do you know where he is now?”
“He waits for you in the breakfast room.”
“What?” That was the last thing she wanted. Setting aside her coffee and hopping from the bed she raced toward the bathroom and a shower. It was worse than being late for the weekly staff meeting and she hadn’t done that once in her four years of employment. What must the man think? That she was a sluggard, a lazy-bones, avoiding her duty—or at least what he saw as her duty.
It might not have been an issue, as she normally didn’t take much time to get ready in the morning anyway, but heading to a job as a librarian hadn’t meant much in the way of makeup, finishing her hair and accessorizing her wardrobe. Being Elena might be harder than she had first thought. On the other hand, maybe Elena, being a real princess, was allowed to lie around and do nothing. Oh, why hadn’t she read the National Enquirer more closely?
Sure Major McConneghy would be pounding on the door any minute, Jane tugged on the outfit Ekaterina had laid out for her. It looked like a jogging suit made of washed silk. Maybe that’s what well dressed queens-to-be wore to eat breakfast. No one in their right mind would exercise in such a suit. At least not exercise and sweat.
Remembering all too well the major’s last command to her the night before, she called for Ekaterina to accompany her and all but ran to the dining room.
Skidding around the last corner and coming to a full halt outside a room bright with early-morning sunshine she wondered why the room left little impression on her. Not with the major sitting there. He should have looked out of place amidst its cheeriness, he of the pressed chino pants and casual shirt, every crease in place. But of course, he didn’t. He sat there, an elegant china cup raised partway to his lips, his dark brows arched in a V, his eyes as still as an Arctic lake.
“I’m
