She stands there a long time, fiddling with her necklace, deep in thought. Is she thinking of her sick father? Of her cousin Briar? Of a man? My jaw tightens at the thought of the rich, titled men at Court who’ve been devouring her with their eyes. I’ll have to watch her marry one of them. Her family wants to preserve the line between them and us and they look upon me as no more than underling they can order around.
What would their darling Sachelle see, though, if she really looked at me? If she saw me as a man and understood what I’m capable of.
Finally, she turns away from the window and disappears. A moment later, the light goes out. I picture her getting between the sheets, the silky nightgown sliding up her thighs. I groan and push away from the hedge and head for my car, wondering why I’m torturing myself trying to snatch glimpses of her when she can never be mine.
Not unless something crazy happened. Not unless schemes were made and traps were set. My mind whirrs to life with the possibilities. There aren’t many women who would try to take a punch from a grown man to protect their father. I wonder what else she’d do for his sake, and just how far she’d go.
1
Sachelle
Court of Paravel, nine weeks later
“Sachelle, if you say even one word to your father about this, I’ll never forgive you.”
Tears are threatening to spill over my lashes and down my made-up cheeks. “But Briar didn’t even do anything wrong. If Dad just talked to the King…” I trail off, seeing the startled expression on my mother’s face.
Mum glances quickly around the ballroom. “This is a delicate time in your father’s recovery. I forbid you to say or do anything to upset him. Do you want his death on your hands?”
I flinch and shake my head. That’s the last thing I want, but I feel like I’m going crazy at the unfairness of it all. Briar suffered the humiliation of being gossiped about and thrown out of her family, and now she’s been arrested and thrown in prison. “I won’t say anything to upset him, I promise. But Briar’s not a criminal. Maybe we’re not related by blood like I thought, but she’s still been my best friend all my life.”
Mum’s face softens, but hardens a moment later. “I’m sorry, but she shouldn’t have got involved with those radicals. This is her own fault.” With that, she turns away and heads down the room.
Tears swim in my eyes as I picture her right at this moment, alone in a cold, concrete cell at the City Guard station. After being humiliated in the papers, Briar went to live with some protestors who were concerned that Paravel still hasn’t granted ordinary people basic human rights. The King has handed over a lot of his power to an elected government, but what’s democratic about Briar and several others who have been locked up just for speaking their mind?
Meanwhile here in this glittering Court, expected by Mum and Dad to shut up and look pretty. I just feel so helpless.
“Dance with me, my lady.”
A man has appeared next to me and is holding out his hand. My eyes travel up his sleeve to a broad set of shoulders in a dark suit. I look into the speaker’s face. With a jolt, I recognize the serious gray eyes, strong features and cold mouth of the King’s security man. He came to the house all those weeks ago when Briar was being thrown out of the family. I liked him that day. I was upset that he wouldn’t let me protect my father, but then he took an elbow to the face trying to stop Lord Anthony from hurting Dad. I felt sorry for him as he sat on our stairs with blood all down his front.
Now, I give him a look of loathing. He’s the one who arrested Briar. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
Those gray eyes harden, but he continues to hold his hand out. “Nobody important. Just a man who wants to dance with you.”
Just a man. He must think I’m stupid. Mr. Rasmussen is the one who leads the City Guard. He’s the one who holds the keys to Briar’s cell. “You arrested three protesters the other day. Release them, and I’ll dance with you. Once.”
Mr. Rasmussen’s eyes blaze with interest and suspicion. “What do you know about those radicals?”
“Protestors,” I correct him. “I happen to know quite a lot, actually. One of them is my cousin. It shouldn’t be illegal to protest. It’s not illegal in the rest of Europe.”
I can see I’m only making him more suspicious of me. When I try to get away from him, he clamps his hand on my arm. “I’m glad you’ve understood one thing. I have the power to make arrests and undo them, just like that. But it takes more than a dance.”