of his wristwatch. Almost two. Despite the lateness of the hour, light illuminated the spaces around the curtains at the window. Adam knew the light came from the bright sign that proclaimed the name of this establishment.
He focused his gaze on the bed, where Isabel slept soundly. She was on her back and the sheet had fallen down around her waist, giving him a tantalizing view of her rounded breasts covered with the thin lilac silk of her nightgown.
He knew he shouldn’t look, but he couldn’t help but drink in the lovely sight of her. In sleep her features took on a soft vulnerability rarely seen when she was awake. Her long lashes cast shadows beneath her eyes and her mouth was opened slightly, as if awaiting a lover’s kiss. Her skin looked creamy and touchable.
Frowning, he jerked his gaze away from her.
It had been awkward when they’d prepared to go to bed. Adam hadn’t contemplated all that this subterfuge would entail. He’d certainly not considered the fact that it might include sleeping with Isabel.
He’d changed from his clothing into a pair of athletic shorts in the bathroom while she’d gotten into her nightgown in the bedroom. Then, once she’d gotten into bed, Adam had left the bathroom and insisted he would spend the night on the chair.
Pulling himself up, he silently walked the length of the room in an effort to unkink muscles, and tried to keep his gaze away from the slumbering princess. But it was impossible.
It was as if in sleep she called to him and he found himself at the edge of the bed, gazing at her more openly, more intently than he ever did when she was awake.
From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d found her beautiful, with an earthy edge to her features that whispered of a latent sexuality.
He frowned once again, pulled his gaze away from her and instead stepped over to the window. Pulling the curtain aside, he peered outside and to the deserted street below. But his thoughts were distant.
Thinking of the nightmare he’d suffered, his stomach clenched tight and he felt the suffocating press of emotion inside his chest. For a little over a year he’d lived in the shadow of the suspicions about his father.
He knew his father wasn’t a traitor, would never sell out to another country, but knowing and proving were two different things. He’d been trying to find out exactly what had happened to Admiral Jonathon Sinclair when Isabel had called him home because of the kidnapping of King Michael.
And so, his personal mission had been put on hold for a greater mission…to find Isabel’s kidnapped father. He let the curtain fall closed once again, then turned as he heard Isabel stir.
She turned her head and opened her eyes, appearing drowsy and still half-asleep. “Adam?”
“I’m right here,” he replied softly.
“What are you doing?”
“Just prowling a bit. I couldn’t sleep.”
She stretched languidly. “That’s because you’re trying to sleep in that awful chair. Come to bed, Adam. Nothing terrible will happen if we share the bed.” Almost before the words were out of her mouth, her eyes had drifted closed and she was once again asleep.
Adam contemplated her words. Nothing terrible will happen if we share the bed. He didn’t want to think about getting back on that chair, with its lumpy back and ill-stuffed seat.
But, the vision of Isabel in that gold short top and that miniscule skirt haunted him. As they’d discussed the various people on Meagan Moore’s list, Isabel’s full, ruby lips had taunted him, and her floral-and-spice scent had made concentration difficult.
He was accustomed to seeing her in a business setting, with both of them in uniform, not in a casual setting with her wearing next to nothing.
With a tired sigh, he threw himself back into the torturous chair. She might not think anything terrible would happen if they shared the bed, but he wasn’t so sure. In his state of heightened awareness where she was concerned, he wasn’t sure he could trust himself.
When he awakened again, dawn was trying to seep in around the edges of the curtain. With a groan, Adam struggled to his feet, his back an aching mass of muscle from the awkward position of his sleep.
Isabel was still asleep. She’d claimed the very center of the bed and was sprawled on her stomach, her face buried in one of the pillows.
Although it was early, Adam knew he couldn’t sleep anymore. He rarely required more than three or four hours anyway. Quietly, he pulled clean clothes from his duffel bag, then went into the bathroom.
A moment later, standing beneath a surprisingly hot, strong spray of water in the shower, Adam thought about the task ahead of him and Isabel.
He knew the investigation into the king’s kidnapping had begun with the focus on the immediate family members and their friends. Nobody had been spared scrutiny, including King Michael’s brother, Edward, who had now assumed the king’s responsibilities, and his two sons, Luke and Blake. Since Michael’s kidnapping, Blake had married Rowena Wilde, Isabel’s lady-in-waiting.
No red flags had gone up with anyone who had been investigated so far, leaving everyone to speculate on just who had been giving Shane Moore his orders. Who had been responsible for the king’s kidnapping? And why?
In a last-ditch effort to force the hand of the conspirators, a rumor had been circulated that Prince Nicholas had been found dead, but so far that rumor had prompted no move from the guilty.
Today was Shane Moore’s funeral and Adam wondered how many of Shane’s cohorts would show up to pay their respects. Although Isabel hadn’t mentioned it yet, he had a feeling he and “Bella Wilcox” would be among the bereaved.
He sighed and shut off the shower. He hoped he and Isabel weren’t in over their heads. He knew if anything happened to Isabel while she was with him, it would be another nail in the coffin of his family name.
Dressing, he shoved these thoughts out of his head. He couldn’t focus on his family problem now. He had to stay focused on pretending to be Adam Wilcox, not Lieutenant Commander Adam Sinclair.
He stepped out of the bathroom, surprised to see Isabel awake and propped up on the pillows. The sheet demurely covered her, only a whisper of lilac silk visible at her shoulders.
“I hope you saved me some hot water,” she said, a little edge of crankiness in her voice.
“And good morning to you, too,” Adam said dryly.
She frowned and raked a hand through her hair. “I don’t suppose this place has room service.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Adam retorted. He sat on the chair to put on his shoes. “But, if you’ll get dressed, we should be able to find a place to have breakfast someplace nearby.”
“Coffee…that’s what I need,” she said as she shoved the covers back and stood.
Adam averted his gaze, but not before he caught a glimpse of her with the silky nightgown clinging to every curve. His internal temperature skyrocketed, and he was grateful when she disappeared into the bathroom.
He scrubbed a hand down his face and leaned back in
