‘Like imprisonment.’
‘Yes.’
She didn’t relax, but he felt her body edge closer to his, gaining comfort in the nearness of him. As indeed he was gaining comfort from her.
‘You think someone will look after Hoppy?’ she whispered in a small voice.
‘Of course they will.’
‘Not Jacques’ men.’
‘No, but there were people sympathetic to our cause. I’m sure they’ll take care of him.’
‘But he’s been kicked.’
‘He’ll be okay,’ he muttered, and found his fingers had clenched into fists. To kick this woman’s dog…
And his reaction was for Hoppy too, he thought with a start. How had that happened?
Early in life Nick had learned to be independent. His foster brothers were like him-taught early to be loners. Ruby, their foster mother, had done everything in her power to teach them to love, and maybe they did love her. But to extend that loving…
Nick had never really thought of it until he’d met Rose, and here he was realising that after only hours’ acquaintance he’d go to quite some trouble to make sure Hoppy was safe. For Hoppy’s sake. Just for the way the dumb dog had wriggled his tail in ecstasy when dinner had arrived on the plane. Then, as he’d realised the two plates were meant for Rose and Nick, he’d transformed, crouching low on his haunches, covering his nose with his front paws and then looking mournfully over-a lost orphan dog who no one had fed for the last month but far too polite to ask…Until Griswold had brought him his own steak.
‘You’re smiling,’ Rose said, staring at him, and he brought himself back to the present with a start. They were being hauled off to goodness knew where and he was thinking about a dog.
‘I was thinking that if anyone can survive Hoppy will.’
‘Yeah,’ she agreed, and managed a rueful smile in return. ‘I guess.’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘You think maybe we should worry about us first?’
‘Maybe it’d be sensible.’ She was huddled against him and he welcomed her warmth. He wanted to hug her closer, hold her tight, but he wasn’t sure how she’d take it. He thought back to the words she’d spoken while they’d been dancing.
Like him. So they were fine.
‘So you’re thinking, maybe, firing squad at dawn?’ she asked, in a tone that said she suspected the direction his thoughts were taking and it was time he got back to matters of import. Like firing squads. Right.
But at least he could reassure her there. ‘Rose, they can’t,’ he said, quelling the sudden urge to kiss her lightly-just as a reassurance. But she was withdrawing, moving slightly away from him as she regained control, and so must he.
‘These people aren’t criminals,’ he told her. ‘The people in charge here are out for their own gain, but to bankrupt the country and leave themselves nowhere to run would defeat their purpose. Every member of the Council has homes in places like the south of France, or Capri or, well, places where they can enjoy swanning round with their wealth. If we were to disappear without trace, they’d be international criminals.’
She thought that through. ‘You checked?’
‘I checked,’ he said. ‘And I do work for a huge international law-firm. I’m not too keen on the assassination bit, but opinion was unanimous that we’d be safe. So let’s not worry, and see where they take us.’
‘To the palace?’ she said, trying to sound hopeful.
‘Five-star luxury coming up,’ he said, and grinned. ‘Let’s count on it.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY were indeed going to the palace. The car pulled up in the forecourt of a building that brought Rose’s memories flooding back. The grand palace of the royal family of Alp de Montez.
‘I’d forgotten it was so grand,’ Rose whispered, staring up at gleaming white turrets, battlements, fountains in the forecourt two stories high, marble steps leading to an entrance that took up an area the size of a tennis court. ‘My mother was never given an independent allowance. So here we stayed. I was tutored here, and we hardly left the place. But I’d forgotten…’
It looked like something out of a fairy tale. Could she really be a princess?
And then the car door was hauled open by men in uniform, and the fairy tale evaporated like the bursting of a bubble.
‘Out,’ someone snapped, and a hand grabbed her arm and tugged so hard she fell out onto the gravel.
But she had a protector. In seconds Nick was on her side of the car, lifting her to her feet, pushing the uniformed thugs aside as if it was he who was in charge and not these people. He set Rose firmly before him, and placed a hand strongly on each shoulder. He smiled at her, a ‘we’re in this together’ smile. And then he faced Jacques. The black car that had drawn up right behind them had disgorged Jacques and his lady. Julianna.
‘If you lay a finger on the Princess Rose, you’ll be facing enquiries from the international community,’ Nick said in a carrying, commanding voice he must have perfected in years of work as a lawyer. Now he deepened his voice, making it louder, as if wanting to carry his words as far as possible.
‘Princess Rose-Anitra and I-Nikolai de Montez-have been escorted to the Imperial Castle of Alp de Montez against our will,’ he said strongly, loudly, to the world at large. ‘The date is…The time is…We’re being held in custody by Jacques and Julianna de Montez. Jacques and Julianna are here right now, in my sight, with direct authority over the people holding us.’
What was he doing?
‘At any moment my mobile phone will be taken from me,’ he continued. ‘I will then stop transmitting, but this message is recorded. Blake, you know what to do.’
There was a moment’s taut stillness-and then a roar of fury from Jacques as he realised what Nick had just done. The man who’d done the talking back at the river and at the airport-Dupeaux-snapped a curt order. Nick was summarily searched and a mobile phone tugged from his shirt pocket.
‘It’s still transmitting,’ Nick said blandly as Dupeaux handed it to Jacques. Again he raised his voice. ‘The phone’s been forcibly removed from me.’
Jacques threw the phone on the ground and ground it with his heel.
‘I’d guess it’s stopped transmitting now,’ Nick said and smiled, tugging Rose tight against him. ‘But it’s been transmitting to my foster brother, Blake, partner in the international law-firm Goodman, Stern and Haddock. I commenced recording back at the river, and what I just said has been transmitted as well. If Blake-and my friends at almost every international embassy in London-don’t hear from us soon they’ll know where to look. Wouldn’t you say?’
He smiled again. But Jacques wasn’t smiling.
‘Take them away,’ he snapped, staring down at the ruined phone as if it was a live scorpion.
But…Julianna?
‘Julianna?’ Rose asked, turning to her sister. Julianna seemed almost stunned with what was happening. Surely the transmission thing hadn’t been necessary. Surely in this day and age…
‘You’re threatening us,’ Julianna whispered, and her face was white with shock.
‘You’re threatening this country,’ Rose said.
‘We’re not. Jacques isn’t.’
‘Ask the hard questions, Julia,’ Rose told her, but she had to yell her last two words over her shoulder. They were being hustled away.
To…a dungeon?
Not quite.
They passed through three thick doors, hustled so fast they hardly had time to be aware of their surroundings. Then they were unceremoniously shoved through a final door, and the clang of metal against stone echoed solidly
