mirror in her hotel room. She wore a white suit, gold jewelry and low heels. Reaching into her blouse, she lifted a long chain. Her wedding ring glittered on the end of it, a brilliant-cut diamond surrounded by emeralds. It was foolish, she knew, to wear it in such a manner, but she didn’t have the strength to part with it completely.
It reminded her of wishes and dreams, a house full of children and growing old with the man she loved—a life where terrorists and gunrunners didn’t take her husband away from home. As she slipped the chain inside her blouse, the ring thumped against her heart, out of sight but not out of mind.
Kathy tilted her head. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, the way Dakota liked it best. Quickly she twisted it into a neat chignon, her fingers working the heavy strands with deft precision. This wasn’t about what Dakota liked. This was a business meeting, a professional dinner engagement.
When the room-service waiter delivered the meal, Kathy stood nearby, watching him set the table. Dakota would be arriving at any moment. She signed the bill and forced a smile, telling herself to relax. She had been in the company of dignitaries and heads of state. One tall, ex-military man, a dark-eyed Comanche, had no right to twist her stomach into a pretzel.
Five minutes after the waiter departed, a knock sounded at the door. She answered it, keeping her head high and her posture straight but not stiff. “Hello, Dakota.”
“Hi.” He smiled, a brief affection that gentled his raw-boned features.
She used to kiss the scar on his chin, she thought. And the one on his belly, too.
Kathy took a step back. What a thing to invade her mind—that masculine stomach, rippling with hard-earned muscle.
“Come in. I took the liberty of ordering our meal ahead of time.”
“Great.” He walked into the suite, his voice more casual than she had expected. But when he made a beeline for the phone and began dismantling it, she realized his tone was for show.
He talked about insignificant things as he swept the set of rooms for bugs, electronic devices that might have been planted by someone posing as part of the hotel staff. Kathy had already done a search, but she appreciated Dakota’s professionalism. With her anxious behavior, she could have missed something. She wasn’t accustomed to providing her own security.
“What are we having?” he asked, indicating his search had turned up clean.
“Prime rib,” she responded, wishing she could relax the way a proper hostess should.
Tonight Dakota looked a little dangerous—black trousers, a black jacket and eyes as dark as his clothes. He used to complain that he didn’t blend in well, that men in his field shouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Of course, men in his field were masters of disguise, and he played the game to perfection. Kathy knew he had altered his appearance many times, his height the only feature he couldn’t change.
“It smells good,” he said.
“Yes, it does.”
He scooted back her chair, and she took her seat, thinking they weren’t off to a very good start. There was no level of comfort between them. None whatsoever.
She poured the wine, her hand steadier than her heart. He sat across from her, watching every move she made, his gaze filled with questions. Clearly he wanted to know why she had left.
Kathy wasn’t ready to talk about personal matters, wasn’t sure if it would even matter. Retired or not, Lieutenant Dakota Lewis was, and always would be, the ultimate soldier—a man drawn to the heat of battle. A wife longing for babies and domestic bliss had no place in his life.
Dakota reached for his wine, and Kathy toyed with her salad. But before the silence threatened to swallow them, he spoke. “Tell me about your relationship with the royal family.”
“I consider Queen Nicole a friend,” she answered, relaxing a little. “She is part American and enjoys having another American woman to talk to. Although she was born in Asterland, she was educated in the States and has a fondness for our culture.”
“When were you assigned to the consulate in Asterland? You’ve been in Washington for the last three years.”
So he knew where she had been. Well, of course he did. She couldn’t very well hide from a man like Dakota, nor had she intended to. She had wanted him to come to her, wanted him to profess that she was more important than his work, that he would retire for good.
“I wasn’t assigned to Asterland. I was brought in to handle a situation that involved Prince Eric.” Queen Nicole’s young son, a dark-haired little boy who had stolen Kathy’s heart. “Prince Eric had gotten into trouble at a prestigious New England boarding school. He was on the verge of being suspended because his classroom behavior was too disruptive. And since the school officials weren’t being particularly cooperative, Queen Nicole requested that an American consular assess the situation and report to her.”
Dakota cut into his meat. “Your report must have impressed the queen.”
“Prince Eric turned out to be a delightful child, which led me to believe his classroom behavior needed further investigation.” Kathy adjusted the linen napkin on her lap. “With the queen’s approval, I brought in an educational psychologist. And the psychologist diagnosed Prince Eric with attention deficit disorder. Personally, I feel the boy had been treated unfairly. A learning disability isn’t something that warrants a suspension.”
Dakota smiled. “You’ve always been tuned in to kids. You could have been a teacher.”
Or a mother, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. Prince Eric had come into her life soon after the miscarriage, and bonding with the young boy had helped ease the pain of losing her own child. “The queen transferred him to a boarding school that specializes in learning disabilities. He’s doing well now. A determined fifth-grader.”
“It’s hard to believe Prince Ivan came from the same family.”
“I know.” Kathy pictured Prince Ivan. He was Eric’s older brother, a grown man who abused his power and shamed his family. He had also been a menace to the town of Royal, a threat to the Cattleman’s Club. But in the end, a cowardly act had consumed him. Rather than return to Asterland to face his family, the prince had committed suicide. “Ivan is dead now.”
Dakota placed his fork on the table. “But he’s still creating trouble. Or his past deeds are. He’s the one who convinced the king to appoint Payune to the position of Grand Minister. Payune and Ivan were thick as thieves.”
And at one time, the king, clearly blinded by parental love, had intended to abdicate the throne to Ivan. “Prince Eric is nothing like his brother. He will make a fine king someday.”
“That’s good to know. But if we don’t stop Payune, young Eric will never get that chance.” Dakota trapped her gaze, his dark eyes riveting. “I hope to God Payune buys my cover. And yours, too. I’m going to have to convince him that you’re a double agent.”
Kathy tried to look away, but couldn’t. Dakota held her there, caught in his magnetic gaze. She wasn’t able to respond; her mouth had gone dry. She reached for her wine, took a small sip.
His husky voice sounded gentle, low. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I hate doing this to you, but I don’t know how else to
