King's Ransom (Man on a Mission 2)

She stared at his hand, suddenly afraid. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d ridden double, with him mounted behind her. But she didn’t think she could bear it. Didn’t think she could bear the memories it would evoke of Andre and her in the soft light of early dawn, cradled lovingly, protectively in his arms. Or so she’d thought at the time.

She looked up at his face now and his eyes betrayed him. The memory she wanted so desperately to avoid was fresh in his mind, too. She stepped back, away from the memories, away from pain, and shook her head. “I’d rather walk.”

* * *

Andre watched Juliana walking away from him, her head held high. He noted with passing approval that shortly after her departure a discreet shadow picked up her trail and followed her from a safe distance. In a corner of his mind he wondered why there weren’t two shadows, but knew he’d get a report before too long that would explain the divergence from orders. But that wasn’t really what he was focusing on.

He’d seen it in Juliana’s eyes the way he knew she’d seen it in his—she remembered as clearly he did the ride together down the mountain the day she left Zakhar so long ago. The first fingers of sunlight had not yet crept over the eastern sky, but dawn had already begun paling the dark blue of night. They’d ridden down together, even though Juliana had ridden her own horse up the mountain. He just couldn’t bear to be parted from her one minute before he absolutely had to. And so he’d cradled her in his arms as they rode, the additional slight weight nothing to a fully rested Balthazar. Juliana’s gelding had trailed along behind them on a leading rope.

Do not go there, his heart warned him. Not now.

By some miracle he managed to suppress that memory as he cantered back to the palace, his bodyguard a half length behind him, then took up the pressing duties that awaited him. The memory stayed successfully buried the rest of the day by sheer will. He met with the Privy Council as arranged for several hours that afternoon and managed to keep his mind on the serious business of running the country.

He met briefly with his cousin Zax to discuss the current threat assessment—and was perturbed by what had nearly happened to Juliana that morning. But he trusted Zax as he trusted no other man, and when he immediately ordered increased security he knew he didn’t have to spell it out—Zax would know what needed to be done and wouldn’t delay carrying out that command.

His appointments with the head of the Zakharian branch of the Red Cross and the delegation of international businessmen who were seeking investment opportunities in Zakhar went off without a hitch. A three-hour reception and state dinner with his cousins and the ambassadors of half a dozen countries, all vying for favored-nation status—Zakhar was small but strategically situated at a crossroads—was followed by a performance of the Zakharian Symphony Orchestra in the new Drago Performing Arts Hall in the ambassadors’ honor.

Only Andre knew that all the while he was smiling politely and conversing with the ambassadors over dinner, he had no idea what he was eating. Only he knew that he heard nothing of the reportedly magnificent performance by the symphony orchestra beyond the opening bars of music. He’d stood to applaud when the ambassadors in the royal box stood, and had shouted “Bravo!” along with the rest of the audience. In between he fought a protracted battle with himself to hold back the memories that threatened to swamp him.

But when he finally slept he could no longer deny the one memory that had haunted him for years. The memory that had finally caused him to start setting things in motion three years ago to bring Juliana back to Zakhar. The memory Juliana so obviously wanted to forget.

Then the dream engulfed him.

* * *

Andre sighed and turned over, the simple cotton sheet rustling beneath him. It wasn’t going to work tonight. He had ridden Balthazar until he’d finally taken pity on the horse and returned to this lonely, empty cottage, knowing it wasn’t enough. That he wasn’t exhausted enough to keep his desires at bay. Not tonight.

One more night, he’d told himself sternly as he groomed Balthazar, then led him into the stall, fed him and covered him with a blanket. And then she will be thousands of miles away. Safe from herself...and me.

But it had been a mistake to let himself think of Juliana, even in this way. Because thinking of her made him want her. Wanting her made him need her. And needing her was driving him insane. His body throbbed and ached for release. Not the release he could give himself, which he’d resorted to on far too many nights already, but the release he knew he could have with Juliana. Only with Juliana.