A Bride for the Taking

Her eyes filled with tears. ‘This isn’t fair,’ she whispered. ‘You have to leave me something, Jake. My pride, at least.’

He smiled. ‘Why should I, kitten? You haven’t left me anything but days and nights of anguish.’

‘Don’t.’ She sighed as he drew her against his heart. ‘Don’t lie to me. There’s no reason.’

‘You’re right, there isn’t. That’s why I’m going to tell you the truth.’ He took her face in his hands and kissed her mouth. ‘I love you, kitten.’

Wild joy filled her heart—but then she remembered.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘You don’t.’

‘Don’t I?’

Dorian closed her eyes. ‘I’ve seen Alana, remember?’

Jake’s brows rose. ‘Alana?’

She looked at him. ‘Yes. And if you’re going to tell me that a prerogative of royalty is—is having both a wife and a mistress, I’m not interested.’

He smiled. ‘That’s a very old-fashioned notion, kitten.’

Her mouth trembled. ‘Didn’t I ever tell you, Jake? I’m an old-fashioned girl.’

‘Very well.’ He let go of her, reached into his pocket, and held out her passport. ‘Go on,’ he said, ‘take it. It belongs to you.’

Well, what had she expected? He was the abdhazim and Alana was the bride he’d chosen. Carefully, eyes downcast so that he would not see the tell-tale gleam of tears on her lashes, Dorian took the passport from him.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. What are you going to do with that, now that you’ve got it?’

Dorian looked up. ‘You know what I’m going to do with it. I’m going to go back to the States.’

He nodded. ‘That’s a good idea. I’ll be doing the same thing in another few weeks, when my cousin’s fully able to resume normal activities.’

‘The abdhan’s all right, then?’

‘Yes.’

She smiled tremulously. ‘I’m glad,’ she whispered. ‘Now you won’t have to be abdhan. You can go back to your old life.’

Smiling, he reached out and touched her hair. ‘Well, with some modifications, I suppose. I’ve agreed to spend part of the year here, to help Seref modernise our country.’

‘Good. I mean, I know that’s important to you.’

‘And then, there’s my marriage.’

Dorian swallowed past the lump in her throat. ‘Yes. Your marriage.’ She turned away. ‘I wish you only the best, of course.’

‘Of course.’ His voice was solemn. ‘Well. I suppose I’d better get back to my people. When I got the call that you were trying to leave, we’d just got word of Seref’s recovery. The celebration is still going on.’

She nodded. Don’t cry, she warned herself fiercely, as he started to turn away, don’t you dare cry!

‘But I suppose I should warn you, though…’

‘Warn me?’

‘Yes.’ Jake looked at her. ‘They won’t accept your passport.’

She blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, it’s not stamped.’ He frowned, but she could see the laughter in his eyes. ‘You’re in the country illegally, and that’s a serious offence.’

‘But—but we’ve been through all this! I am here legally!’

He shook his head. ‘Nope,’ he said, leaning back against the door and folding his arms over his chest, ‘you’re not. And your passport lists you as Dorian Oliver.’

‘Of course it does. That’s my name!’

He smiled lazily. ‘No, it isn’t. Your name is Dorian Alexander. Or Dorian Alexandrei.’ He laughed. ‘Or maybe even Dorian Prince.’

A tremor went through her. ‘Jake. What are you talking about?’

He reached for her and drew her to him. ‘We’re married, kitten. You’re my wife.’

‘No. No, I’m not. It wasn’t legal. You said so yourself.’

A sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I lied.’

‘What?’

‘Well, what else was I going to do? You had to agree to that ceremony, or it would have been the end of the line.’ He tilted her face to his. ‘Besides, when a man finds love, he’ll do anything to keep it.’ His smile became a grin. ‘Even get married.’

‘Married?’ she whispered. ‘We’re really married?’

He laughed softly. ‘Don’t look so upset, darling. We can take our vows again, if you like, in a proper setting with all the trimmings.’

‘But—but what about Alana?’

Jake nuzzled her throat. ‘What about her?’

‘Well, you can’t marry the both of us, not even in Barovnia.’ She frowned and the tip of her tongue touched her lip. ‘Can you?’

‘Not unless I want Seref to take me out and shoot me.’

Dorian stared at him. ‘Seref?’

‘Alana is just what Kasmir said she was, sweetheart. She’s the betrothed of the abdhan. The three of us grew up together, but it’s been special between the two of them for a long, long time.’ He smiled. ‘I’m going to warn Seref that he and Alana had better have enough little princes and princesses so I never have to worry about becoming the abdhan again.’

‘Oh, Jake. I thought…’ She shook her head. ‘Why did you let me think we were going to the Valley of the Two Suns?’

Jake’s mouth twisted. ‘I suppose—I suppose I didn’t trust you. I was going to explain…’

‘But there wasn’t time.’

He nodded. ‘Exactly. Can you forgive me?’

Dorian smiled. ‘I’ll forgive you,’ she whispered, ‘if you forgive me.’

He kissed her, and she sighed. ‘That last night, though—I kept hoping you’d tell me the truth about yourself, but you didn’t.’

‘I wanted to. But if anyone in camp had recognised me, all bets were off. They might have held us for ransom; they might have decided to slit our throats.’ He gathered her tightly into his arms. ‘It was a burden I couldn’t share with you, kitten. Do you see?’

She nestled into his embrace. ‘What I see,’ she said softly, ‘is that you’ve protected me from the minute we met.’

‘And I’ll go on doing it for the rest of my life, if you’ll let me.’

He kissed her deeply. After a long time Dorian stirred.

‘Have you forgotten, my abdhazim, that your people are waiting for you?’