The Princess's Bodyguard. BEVERLY BARTON
and return her to Orlantha. You should be at King Leopold’s side, showing your support and concern. If he becomes the least bit suspicious—”
“Ah, but that’s your job, isn’t it? To waylay any suspicions.”
“Princess Adele actually told her father that she believed you were a Royalist.”
Dedrick laughed. “I’m sure dear papa didn’t believe her. Why would anyone suspect me?”
“If your wedding to the princess is canceled, we will have no choice but to eliminate her and leave the king without an heir. We prefer to take over Orlantha by peaceful means. The Balanchine army is half the size of Orlantha’s army. Once you become the prince consort, you will wield great power and can put many of our people in strategic positions within the government. And in time we will see to it that you become king of both Orlantha and Balanchine.”
“I would hate to lose the chance for a wedding night with Adele. She’s such a delicious little creature.”
“Is that all you think about?”
“I think about many things,” Dedrick said. “I think that once I am king of both Orlantha and Balanchine, you will not speak to me in such a manner.”
“Once you are king, no, I will speak to you with due respect. But until that day—” the intruder grabbed Dedrick’s lapels and glared directly into his eyes “—I am in charge. You will do as I say. Is that understood?”
Dedrick took a deep breath, clutched the other man’s hands and removed them from his coat. “I understand perfectly.”
“Good. Then go to the palace and assure King Leopold that you adore Adele and want nothing more than to be her husband.”
Dedrick grinned. “What if this American detective can’t find Adele?”
“My sources tell me that his firm is the best in the business. He will find her. It seems the princess was spotted with Yves Jurgen in Paris yesterday. This detective’s agency is tracking her down as we speak. And when he leaves Orlantha to go after her, two of our men will follow him and make sure nothing goes wrong.”
Matt’s flight landed at the Vienna International Airport Holzbauer with only a twenty-minute delay. His rental car, a four-door silver Opel Omega, was ready and waiting for him. He’d spent enough time on airplanes these past few days to rack up quite a few frequent-flyer miles. Of course, Dundee picked up the tab for his flights, since all of them were work related. Ellen Denby, Dundee’s CEO, had shot to hell his plans for a week of R&R in Paris. She’d phoned him only hours after Worth Cordell had taken a flight out of Roissy Charles de Gaulle, winging his way home to the good old U.S.A. Ellen had pointed out to Matt that he was already in Europe, only a short flight from Orlantha, so it would be foolish to send another agent to take the assignment. He’d tried to beg off. He should have known better. Ellen wasn’t the type who could be persuaded or pressured; she was the type who expected her orders to be obeyed without question.
He had to admit that, even though he really hadn’t wanted this assignment, he was curious as to why the lovely Princess Adele had flown the coop only a month before her wedding. During his interview with King Leopold, His Majesty had cited a case of premarital jitters as the reason his daughter had run away. But after sizing up the situation—and meeting the Duke of Roswald—Matt had drawn his own conclusions. Dedrick Vardan was a horse’s ass. Pompous. Arrogant. Condescending. And come to think of it, the wannabe prince looked a bit like a horse. Or maybe more like a mule. But the guy sure knew how to play the king like a fiddle. And Lord Burhardt had sent cold chills up Matt’s spine. His gut instincts warned him that the man would be dangerous if crossed. Then there was Colonel Rickard, who seemed to resent the fact that he hadn’t been put in charge of returning the princess to the fold. The king had told Matt he wanted his daughter returned to the palace, and gave him permission to use whatever means necessary to bring her home.
After taking a look at faxed photos of Yves Jurgen that Dundee had sent, along with more information on the man than Matt actually needed, it was easy to see why the princess had run away from Dedrick and straight into Yves’s waiting arms. Hell, Yves Jurgen was a damn pretty boy, and from his “rap sheet” he knew everything there was to know about women—how to please them and keep them coming back for more. Matt’s guess was that Princess Adele had run away for one last fling with her former lover before tying the knot with old mule face.
It really didn’t matter to him why the princess had run away. She was nothing more than an assignment to him. Dundee contacts in Austria had tracked Yves and her to an estate outside Vienna, so it was only a matter of time before he knocked on the door, introduced himself and told the princess that she’d been caught. He hoped she didn’t put up a fuss or that her lover didn’t do something stupid. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so he could return to Paris and pick up where he’d left off with a delectable blonde named Chantel.
Adele ate dinner alone at the chateau after making reservations to fly to Golnar in the morning. She had already packed, except for toiletry items, her pajamas and the outfit she’d wear tomorrow. When she’d phoned her best friend, Dia Constantine, Dia had told Adele that she and Theo would gladly provide a sanctuary for her. Dia was an old boarding school classmate who had become her best friend despite the differences in their backgrounds. Dia was the product of a marriage between a stodgy English barrister and his free-spirited Greek wife. A statuesque beauty with jet-black hair and luminescent silver eyes, Dia had captured the attention and then the heart of Greek tycoon Theo Constantine when they’d met at a party at the royal palace in Erembourg. The two had been married for eight years and had one child. Adele was Phila’s godmother and she adored the seven-year-old with a passion.
Adele would have gone straight to Golnar when she escaped from the palace, but it would have been the first place her father would have thought of when he discovered her missing. If he’d caught her en route, he would have forced her to return to Orlantha, and no government would have dared offend the king. Of course, if she made it to Golnar, he would be powerless to force her to return. Golnar, a small island nation between Greece and Cyprus, had no diplomatic ties to Orlantha, and since Theo’s wealth gave him unlimited power over local politics, the authorities would hardly allow a guest of his to be taken against her will.
No matter what, she simply had to give Pippin and his friends time to gather evidence against Dedrick. If that meant staying in Golnar for a year, then so be it.
As Adele listened to a tape of Tchaikovsky’s concertos and drank her after-dinner demitasse, she heard a ruckus at the front door.
“Please, sir, no!” the butler called out in his native German language. “Stop right now, or I shall be forced to call the police.”
“My German’s a little rusty,” a man’s voice said. “But I understand that you’re threatening to call the police. Go right ahead. Be my guest.”
Adele tensed. The doors to the drawing room swung open. A tall, black-haired man wearing faded jeans and a weathered leather bomber jacket stormed into the room, the butler on his heels. Adele’s heartbeat accelerated. Who was this stranger? Whoever he was he spoke English, not German or French.
Adele rose from the sofa and confronted the unwanted guest.
“I tried to stop him,” the butler said. “Should I call the police?”
The last thing Adele wanted to deal with was the local authorities. If she involved the police, there was no telling what tomorrow’s headlines would read. And she’d certainly be shipped home immediately once it was discovered that King Leopold expected her to return.
“No, don’t telephone the police.” She shook her head, then turned to her uninvited guest. “Who are you and what do you want?”
He stared at her, surveying her from head to toe. A shiver of uneasiness fluttered up Adele’s spine. There was something sensual about the way he looked at her with those incredible blue eyes.
“I’m Matt O’Brien, with the Dundee Security and Investigation