The Prince and The Marriage Pact. Valerie Parv
a thing for men’s hands. The prince’s might not appear work-worn, but neither did they look soft. His nails were clipped to a businesslike length and he wore a beaten-silver ring on the third finger of his right hand. Nothing on his left hand, but she already knew he was unmarried. Not that she cared.
“Let me take a look.”
Before she could argue, he took her hand in his, uncurling her clenched fingers to reveal two red slashes across her palm where she had touched the plant stem. Each livid slash was impregnated with hundreds of hairlike filaments.
In as much pain as she was, she couldn’t help noticing that his grasp was gentle, for all the anger in his expression. Her swift and very physical response caught her by surprise. She told herself it was because he was holding her hand and standing close enough for her to inhale a faint trace of his aftershave lotion—a blend of citrus and herbal scents that teased her nostrils.
“The Janus lily?” she queried, very much aware of needing the distraction. And not wholly because of the pain. “Wasn’t Janus the Roman god of doorways and entrances?”
The prince nodded. “He was usually depicted wearing two faces.”
She looked at the plant with renewed respect. “Like the lily, one beautiful, one dangerous.”
“It’s a Carramer native, one of the few that isn’t benign,” he explained. “They’re only dangerous when in flower, and then only when touched.”
“If you hadn’t startled me, I wouldn’t have touched it,” she snapped, pain getting the better of her.
“If you hadn’t been wandering where you shouldn’t, I wouldn’t have startled you,” he countered mildly, but she heard a definite undercurrent of steel in his tone. Prince Maxim didn’t take kindly to being crossed, she gathered.
Well, she didn’t like being attacked by his feral plant, so they were even, she decided. She tugged her hand free, aware of a trace of regret accompanying the movement. “I wanted to see the Champagne Pact,” she said tartly. “I didn’t see any harm in it.”
“This part of the castle is not open to the public, but you could have sought permission if you wished to view the painting.”
“I hadn’t planned that far ahead. The noise of the reception was giving me a headache, so I came looking for somewhere quieter. When I realized where I was, I decided to see if I could find the painting while I was here.” Annoyance crept into her tone. She didn’t like being on the defensive, especially since the prince was right. She shouldn’t have trespassed, but she was darned if she was going to apologize. Her hand felt as if it was going to remind her of her folly for some time to come.
“Are you always so impulsive, Miss West?”
So he knew who she was. She felt a frisson of pleasure until it was overshadowed by common sense. Obviously, for a wedding held at a castle with royalty in attendance, everyone on the guest list would need security clearance. And he had probably memorized every name as a matter of course.
“Annegret,” she offered. Then added, “Recklessness is an Australian trait.” She shrugged, then wished she hadn’t as a fresh burst of discomfort radiated along her forearm.
He saw the wince she couldn’t quite conceal. “And now you’re injured as a result. Let it be a lesson to you, Annegret. I’ll have someone take you to the infirmary so your hand can be attended to.”
Furious at being dismissed so peremptorily, she stood her ground. “I don’t need medical attention. It’s only a plant, for goodness sake. The effect should wear off in a few minutes.” Maybe she was wrong about his strength, if he wanted to make this much fuss over a small mishap.
“Far from wearing off, the pain will escalate as the plant’s toxin works its way into your bloodstream,” he pointed out, sounding as if he rarely had to explain himself to anyone, and didn’t appreciate the need now. “If you aren’t given an antidote soon, within a few hours you could become seriously ill.”
Spending her first vacation in years in a Carramer hospital was hardly appealing. And despite the evidence, she wasn’t stupid. “Very well, but I can’t go anywhere until I’ve seen the bride and groom off,” she insisted. “I won’t have their honeymoon spoiled by worrying about me.” By now her friend should have finished changing into her going-away clothes. Annegret only hoped she hadn’t already missed their departure.
The prince’s eyebrows lifted as if her concern for her friends was a revelation. Whatever qualities he attributed to her evidently didn’t include such consideration. “Very well, but I’ll accompany you, then see that you get to the doctor,” he said.
“I won’t run away as soon as you turn your back. I do have some sense.”
His glance suggested he wasn’t convinced. “You might also collapse without warning.”
She was starting to feel light-headed, but had put that down to his disturbing effect on her. The plant might not be as deadly as he’d suggested, but there was no point taking unnecessary risks. No more than she had done by venturing into his private domain, she amended inwardly.
“Okay, Your Highness,” she said, with a soft exhalation of defeat. “Let’s go back to the wedding. If I collapse I’ll depend on you to catch me.”
His level gaze betrayed nothing, but she could swear she heard him murmur, “It would be a pleasure.”
Maxim knew he should be annoyed by her foray into the family’s apartments. Normally there would have been at least two members of the Royal Protection Detail patrolling these corridors. Today, however, one of their own was the groom, and most of the RPD were attending the wedding. It didn’t excuse the lapse in security, and Maxim made a mental note to ensure that someone paid for it. And that it didn’t happen again.
But he couldn’t make himself feel as angry with Annegret as he should be. He knew who she was, of course. Even without his study of the guest list, her crusade against hereditary monarchies conducted through the TV series she produced was well known. Her interest in the painting suggested she might be considering doing a similar hatchet job on his own family.
So he had absolutely no excuse for wanting to spend more time with her than he had to. In spite of her insistence on returning to the reception, it would be a simple matter to summon a footman to escort her, then take her to the infirmary before the plant’s toxin took full effect. But Maxim admired the way she stood up to him. Not many people would have dared. And he had to admit he was impressed by her insistence on putting her friends’ well-being ahead of her own.
No one had ever died from touching the Janus lily, but the symptoms could be highly unpleasant. He was probably crazy letting her return to the function, but he had a feeling nothing short of gunpoint would change her mind, and that seemed a little extreme.
He released a taut breath and took her arm. “Let’s go.”
Holding her close to him, feeling her fight the plant’s effects, produced mixed feelings of concern and something else. He told himself his interest in her was purely duty. Not good form to have her keel over on his doorstep. Certainly he would have done the same for anyone.
Anyone else, however, wouldn’t have produced the heightened sense that warned him she was trouble. And not the kind that he could leave to the RPD. As she walked beside him, her willowy grace made him catch his breath. Few women could match him in height, but she came close, although she was slender enough to put hardly any pressure on his arm. Would sliding his arm all the way around her qualify as assisting her, or himself?
As they entered the grand hall where the reception was taking place, he felt her straighten, as if arming herself for a fight. It had to be with her increasing weakness, he concluded, and did slide his arm around her then, trying not to make his support too obvious. Or his own masculine response, for that matter.
Her fiery gaze told him she didn’t like needing his help. “Donna and Kevin should be here any minute now,” she said.