An Officer and a Princess. Carla Cassidy
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He sighed with a sense of resignation. “So, you’re really intent on doing this?”
She nodded, a curt motion that sent the ends of her wavy hair to dancing on top of her shoulders. She drew a deep breath and, as if by magic, whatever emotion had momentarily possessed her was once again under control. “Since Meagan gave me this list, I’ve got Ben doing background checks on each name. I should have pictures and complete information about each of them by late this afternoon.”
She was nothing if not efficient, he thought. He stood, unable to stay seated any longer. “I can’t believe your cousin would be a party to this.”
“Ben is a different man since he impersonated my brother and was kidnapped. He feels the same way I do…that if my father is still alive, time is running out and something has to be done. Besides, he knows I’m going to do this with or without his help.” She raised her chin to him.
“I can’t let you do this.” He tried one last time to change her mind. “It’s simply too dangerous. Give me all the information and I’ll assign somebody to the job. I know a dozen men and women who would do anything to help find the king.”
“No. I want to do this. Adam…I need to do this.” There was a soft plea in her voice. “I’ve already made arrangements to rent a room above the King’s Men Tavern. Meagan told me her brother and most of the names on this list spent a lot of time hanging out there.”
The King’s Men Tavern was near the palace, but few of the good king’s men had ever been there. The place had a reputation for trouble, and far too often the police were called in to break up fights or arrest unruly drunks. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.
But he could tell by looking at her that there was no point in trying to talk her out of it. Her features were taut, her chin raised in stubborn defiance. She intended to run with this…hook, line and sinker.
“And what is your back-up plan? One of the first things I ever taught you was that you never go into a dangerous situation without a back-up plan.”
“You’re my back-up plan,” she said.
He eyed her in surprise.
She took a step closer to him, and again he could smell her perfume, that heady scent that made him think of hot summer nights and slick, silky skin.
He fought the impulse to back away from her, refusing to allow her to see any weakness on his part. “And what role am I going to play in this scheme of yours?” he asked.
“I’m going undercover as Bella Wilcox, Shane Moore’s cousin.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew something, then grabbed Adam’s hand.
“And you will be Adam Wilcox.” She slid a plain gold band onto his ring finger. “My lawfully wedded husband.”
Isabel sank into her chair and released a sigh as Adam left her office. She immediately buzzed her secretary. “Laura, please hold my calls and clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon and the next two weeks.”
She heard her secretary’s surprise, but the woman was too professional to ask any questions. Too wired to sit still, Isabel stood and began to pace the small confines of her office.
If given a choice, she might have chosen somebody else to act as her “husband” in the undercover scheme. She and Adam had often butted heads over military policies and procedures, but that wasn’t what bothered her about him.
What bothered her were his gunmetal gray eyes with their sinfully long dark lashes. What bothered her were his impossibly broad shoulders, his taut, flat stomach and slender hips.
What bothered her was that when his gaze swept over her, she forgot the trappings of her title and the expertise of her training, and became simply a woman with a woman’s wants and needs.
There were times when Adam looked at her that she felt her knees weaken and her stomach knot and intense heat suffused her entire body. She knew it would be wise to choose somebody else for this undercover operation.
But for this particular assignment she needed the best, and Adam was the best. Well-trained, with an impressive record, Adam Sinclair was the only man on earth she would trust with this important mission.
Adam Sinclair was also the only man on earth who had ever seen her cry. She frowned and tried to forget that there had been a time when she’d believed herself hopelessly in love with him. And that there had been a single moment in time when she’d practically thrown herself into his arms and he’d remained disappointingly professional.
She couldn’t think about that now. That was in the past…in her youth. She had to focus on the task at hand. She knew her plan was dangerous, knew the people responsible for her father’s kidnapping were dangerous. But she would do whatever it took to find her father and put an end to the chaos that reigned in the country she so loved.
Tonight she would put out the word that she was going into seclusion, that the stress of the past three months had finally caught up with her. And tomorrow night she would begin her charade as Bella Wilcox, cousin to Shane Moore and wife of Adam.
She shivered, unsure what had her more anxious, rubbing elbows with dangerous men and women or living a pretend marriage with Adam Sinclair.
Chapter Two
T he interior of the King’s Men Tavern was far worse than Adam had imagined. The moment he stepped inside, acrid cigarette smoke assaulted him, scratching the back of his throat and stinging his eyes.
The tension in the air was thick, hinting that an explosion of tempers and passions could be imminent.
From the back of the establishment, the dull whack of billiard balls could be heard, mixing with the clink of glasses and bottles and the raucous shouts of the players.
Adam spied an empty stool at the bar and made his way to it, conscious of the speculative gazes that followed his progress.
Although he didn’t actively try to make eye contact with the tough guys in the place, he also didn’t avoid it. He knew in a place like this any sign of weakness was an open invitation to confrontation. While he certainly wasn’t afraid of anyone in the establishment, he also wasn’t looking for trouble.
It was important for him and Isabel to maintain a low profile. He didn’t want anyone looking too closely at him or her. Recognition could place them both in immediate danger.
He slid onto the stool, dropped his duffel bag to the floor and motioned to the bartender. The burly man approached wearing the world-weary expression of a man who would rather be anywhere than where he was.
Adam ordered a drink, then swiped a hand across his chin, unaccustomed to the scratchy whiskers along his jaw. In preparing for his role, he hadn’t shaved since the day before. Instead of his usual pristine uniform, he was clad in a pair of tight jeans and a black T-shirt.
The bartender slammed his drink down and Adam picked it up and spun around on the stool so he could view the entire room.
Isabel