A Bride for the Taking Page 11

‘Where I found a weekly pay-cheque that would disgrace a beggar,’ she said with deliberate lightness, ‘and an old-boy system that might just let me wangle a byline in a hundred years or so.’

  ‘And you decided to stay.’

  She smiled wryly as she sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, that’s certainly logical,’ Jake said with a little laugh. ‘After all, if the pay’s bad and the chance for advancement’s even worse, what else could you have done?’

  Dorian rested her head on her knees. ‘What do you do for a living, Jake?’

  There was a moment’s silence. ‘This and that,’ he said finally. ‘I’m in the export business.’

  ‘And you’re successful?’

  He shrugged. ‘I suppose you could say that, yes.’

  ‘Did you work hard to get where you are?’

  His mouth tightened. ‘Some would say no.’

  ‘But you say…?’

  ‘I say—I say I took a small, family-owned company and made it into an international firm.’

  She nodded. ‘And was it easy?’

  Jake laughed. ‘Hell, no. It was hard work.’

  ‘But you loved every minute of it?’

  His eyes darkened with suspicion. ‘What is this, Dorian? The game of twenty questions?’

  ‘It’s an explanation,’ she said. ‘I love what I do, the same as you. And I want to carve a niche for myself, the same as you.’ She picked up a loose stone and examined it intently. ‘And I will, some day. All I need is a chance.’

  Silence fell over them, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind.

  ‘I suppose you expect these reports you’ll file from Barovnia will give you that chance,’ Jake said finally.

  Dorian lay back and rested her head on her arms. She had thought a lot about her dispatches while they were climbing through the pass, and the more she’d thought, the more she’d realised that what she’d write—what she’d really write, not the fanciful copy she’d composed in her head to make the time pass more quickly—would not, when you came down to it, be that different from everyone else’s stuff.

  Her assignment had been Jack Alexander. That was the simple truth of it. Walt Hemple had chosen her because he’d hoped she’d catch Alexander’s eye, and, even if she’d balked against setting out to deliberately do that, she’d certainly hoped to interview the man.

  But whatever chance she’d had was long gone. She’d spent the past two days a million miles from the next abdhan. He would have said all he had to say to the other reporters by now; they would have filed their stories, enough of them so that the Western Press was probably on overload. Anything she would write would only be superfluous.

  Even Jake’s solo flight, which had seemed so mysterious and promising, didn’t seem that way any more. She still didn’t know why he’d made it, but what did it matter? It was too late for it to have any effect on what was happening in Kadar. After all, if death had come to Barovnia’s ruler and Jack Alexander was crowned abdhan, the ceremonies could certainly go on without Jake.

  It was only this journey across the wilderness that might prove interesting—but not newsworthy. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the man of the hour.

  The bottom line was that she was out of the action, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  ‘Well? Is this Barovnian jaunt your ticket to success?’

  Jake’s voice was rough with impatience. She looked up at him and smiled wearily.

  ‘To tell you the truth, unless Jack Alexander suddenly fell into my lap with the offer of an exclusive interview, my stuff won’t even raise an eyebrow in New York.’

  Jake got to his feet and stood with his back to her. ‘I wouldn’t count on that,’ he said softly.

  She laughed. ‘Oh, I’m not. What I’m counting on is a hot meal and a hot bath. Or a hot bath and a hot meal—I haven’t decided in what order I want them yet.’

  He stuffed his hands into his rear trouser pockets. ‘Well, you’ll have plenty of time to decide. We’ve at least another day’s journey before we reach Kadar.’

  ‘What?’ Dorian scrambled to her knees. ‘But you said—’

  ‘I said the city was on the other side of the mountain—and it is, more or less.’

  ‘Dammit, Jake, why did you lie to me?’

  ‘I didn’t lie,’ he said mildly. ‘I just thought it best not to let you worry about the distance we had to cover.’

  ‘Then what is on the other side of the mountain? You said there was a town…’

  ‘There is. It’s called Quarem.’

  ‘The place where they have the bridal market?’

  Jake nodded. ‘It’s a rough place. I’d skirt it altogether, if I were alone. But I can’t ask you to go without food much longer, and we’ll need horses to get through the valley.’

  ‘The valley?’ She stared at him in bewilderment. ‘What valley?’

  ‘The valley of the Two Suns. Crossing it will take us a day and a half or so, and then we’ll be in Kadar. There will be some risks, but they should be minimal, assuming you can remember your instructions.’

  Dorian stared at him. Their brief truce was ending; she could hear that clipped, authoritative tone seeping back into his voice as he spoke.

  ‘What instructions?’ she asked warily.

  Jake turned to her. ‘You have an amazingly short memory for a reporter,’ he said softly. ‘Have you forgotten that you’re my adoring, mute little wife?’

  Her face coloured. She was his woman. No. Of course she hadn’t forgotten, not after what had happened this morning.

  But he never had explained why it would be necessary to keep up the farce once they were safely inside Barovnia.

  ‘You’re to defer to me at all times,’ he said, bending and picking up the supply sack. He looked at her as he slung it over his shoulder. ‘Keep the scarf low on your forehead. We’ll do something about the way you’re dressed. No respectable man would let his wife be seen in such mud-spattered, torn clothing. Just remember not to talk, not to lift your eyes unless I tell you to, and—’

  ‘And not to breathe.’ Dorian rose and faced him, her hands on her hips. ‘Listen, Jake, I am not going to be led into that town like a—a donkey unless you do some explaining.’

  He glowered at her. ‘Haven’t you been listening? You will do exactly as you are told.’

  ‘I most certainly will not.’

  ‘Listen to me. There are things you don’t understand.’

  ‘Then explain them.’

  His face turned cold. ‘They’re none of your business.’

  ‘Well, then, I’ll tell you what. When we get into town, you go your way and I’ll go mine. I’ll find a telephone and—’

  ‘No!’ His voice was razor-sharp. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘You will not do that.’

  Dorian’s chin jutted forward. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.’

  Jake drew in his breath. ‘Dorian, I need—I need time…’

  ‘For what?’ she said impatiently. ‘For God’s sake, there is no time. You should know that even better than I do. Jack Alexander is probably going to become the tin god in this little part of the world, and—’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what you think he’ll be?’

  ‘More or less. What would you say?’

  Jake blew out his breath. ‘I’d say the man’s been asked to assume an out-of-date responsibility no one in his right mind would want.’

  She looked at him, surprised by the impassioned words. ‘Surely that’s not Jack Alexander’s opinion?’

  ‘Of course it’s his opinion,’ he growled. ‘He doesn’t belong here.’

  ‘Then why has he come?’

  ‘What do you mean, why? He’s come because he has no choice.’

  Dorian’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s ridiculous. Everyone has a choice.’

  ‘Everyone has responsibilities,’ Jake said, his eyes blazing into hers. ‘I know it’s not a popular wo
rd in today’s world, but it’s the truth.’

  ‘Even so—how awful could it be for someone like Alexander to become the ruler of Barovnia? There was always the possibility—’

  ‘Each time you cross the street, you know there’s a possibility you might get hit by a car. But you don’t dwell on it, do you? If you did, you’d never leave your flat.’

  ‘Come on, Jake,’ she said with a little smile, ‘that’s not the same thing at all. One is—well, it’s a disaster that might happen, while the other—’

  ‘Being dragged away from the life you know is a disaster.’ Jake swept out his hand in a gesture that took in everything. ‘I don’t belong here, dammit! I have a life of my own.’ He drew a ragged breath. ‘I have freedom…’

  ‘You?’ Dorian became very still. ‘You, Jake?’

  Their eyes met, and a dark flush rose along his cheeks. ‘I’m—I’m just putting myself in Jack’s place,’ he said quickly. ‘I know how he feels, of course. He’s told me. I mean, we grew up together, and I’ve always—we’ve always…’

  Jake clamped his lips together and turned away, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t have to see his face to know the truth. It had been right in front of her all along, she’d even bumped against it a few times—and yet she’d ignored it.

  Jake Prince and Jack Alexander were one and the same man.

  The realisation was dizzying. In one instant, everything in her life had changed. It was as if a fairy godmother had suddenly stepped down from the top of Mount Cristou, waved her magic wand, and changed the meadow grasses into gold.

  Dorian could hardly breathe. A byline, she thought. A column! Hell, she’d get the Pulitzer!

  Her gaze went to Jake, standing rigidly ahead of her. She could write about this, too, about the reluctance of this once and future king, about his desperate wish for freedom and privacy warring with his inbred sense of responsibility.

  Her eyes swept over that proud, straight back. She could see the terrible tension in him, that stiffness of muscle and spine that told her his face would have taken on that cold arrogance that could be so frightening.

  But he wasn’t like that. Not really. She thought of how he’d soothed away her fear yesterday. She remembered how he’d protected her against Pig Face, with a combination of wit and guts and brash determination—and she remembered, too, how he’d taken her into his arms last night when fear of the unknown had set her teeth chattering, how he’d kissed her and touched her this morning.

  Had he wanted her as a woman, not as a conquest? Had he turned to her for the most basic kind of comfort, knowing that soon he would not be a man but a king, that he was about to assume a burden so awesome that she could barely imagine the weight of it?

  Jake, she thought, and her heart gave a strange little lurch. Jake…

  She whispered his name as she reached out and laid her hand lightly on his shoulder. His muscles were bunched, taut as steel, and suddenly nothing in the world mattered but easing away his sorrow and his loneliness.

  ‘Jake,’ she said again, ‘please. Don’t turn away from me. Talk to me. Tell me how—’

  His breath rasped as he spun around and grabbed hold of her.

  ‘God, but you’re good,’ he said hoarsely. ‘It’s an art, you know, making someone believe you’re concerned when actually you’re busy composing a story inside that beautiful head.’

  ‘No! I wasn’t doing that. I wasn’t even thinking of—’

  ‘Come on.’ His smile was cold and hard. ‘We both know the truth. You’ve been after the intimate details about Alexander from the start. If only you hadn’t followed me off that charter plane…’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything? I still don’t know why you were flying off into nowhere.’

  ‘No. You don’t.’ His grasp tightened, until she could feel the press of each finger through her blouse. ‘What went wrong this morning, Dorian, hmm?’ His mouth twisted. ‘Did you lose your courage at the last minute? Hell, I’ll bet you’ve done your best investigations in the sack.’

  ‘You—you bastard! You—you—’

  ‘Out of words again, sweetheart?’ Jake’s eyes turned black. ‘Just be sure you’re out of them when we get to Quarem.’

  Her heart seemed to shrivel within her breast. The anguish and concern she’d felt minutes ago hardened to ice.

  ‘Don’t threaten me, Jake.’

  ‘There are a thousand things that could happen to you between here and Kadar.’

  ‘Such melodrama,’ she said, trying not to let him hear the fear in her voice. ‘Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a bit?’

  ‘There are tribes in my country that still deal in stolen women, Dorian. I’ll bet you didn’t know that.’ His smile slashed across his face. ‘Harems have been outlawed for years, but they still exist. And blondes always sell well.’

  ‘Stop this.’ Her voice quavered a little; she hated herself for it, and for the sly smile it brought to Jake’s face.

  ‘And then there’s the bridal market at Quarem.’ She tried twisting away as his hand came up to her hair; he caught some pale golden strands in his fingers and rubbed them together, as if they were silk. ‘You’d bring a good price there—even if I had to have your tongue taken out first.’

  Oh, God! She was trapped, trapped in a place that knew nothing of freedom, the captive of the next abdhan of Barovnia, a man who held the power of life and death—a man who was ruthless enough to use that power.

  ‘You can’t get away with this, Jake,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I know women don’t have equal status in your world, but—’

  She cried out as his hand swept over her, moving possessively over her hips, her buttocks, sweeping up the curve of her waist until it reached her breast.

  ‘You’re wrong.’ His voice was dispassionate; it was as if he were talking about the worth of a horse or a favourite hunting dog. ‘Women are very important. They’re property—valuable property.’ His hand cupped her breast, his thumb brushing lightly across her nipple. ‘You are property,’ he said coldly, as his other hand pressed against the base of her spine and brought her closer to him. ‘And you belong to me, for as long I want you.’

  ‘When I’m free—when I get to Kadar, I’ll tell the world about you,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I’ll tell them everything, Jake. Everything!’

  He laughed. ‘Tell them whatever you damned please.’ She struggled as he gathered her to him, but his strength overpowered her. His mouth dropped to hers; she felt the coolness of his lips, the brush of his tongue—and somewhere deep within her, in the marrow of her bones or the pulse of her blood, some dark passion uncoiled and sent heat licking through her body.

  She swayed in his arms and Jake made a ragged sound in his throat as he gathered her to him, holding her so tightly that she could feel the race of their hearts intermingling.

  For a moment, they were alone in the world.

  And then Jake lifted his head. He clasped her shoulders and put her from him. Dorian’s eyes opened slowly and met his; for one instant, she thought she saw her own confusion mirrored there, but then a harsh smile curled across his mouth and he stepped back.

  ‘Tell them whatever you want,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t leave anything out.’

  He turned and stalked away while she stood trembling, her arms wrapped around herself for comfort. Halfway up the trail he swung around and faced her.

  ‘Get that scarf up,’ he said.

  Dorian didn’t move. After a moment, Jake put his hands on his hips.

  ‘Well? Are you coming—or do I leave you for the vultures?’

  When she stood her ground, he shrugged, turned his back to her, and started walking. Within seconds, he’d disappeared from sight.

  High overhead, as if on cue, a wild cry rent the silence. Dorian looked up at the dark shapes soaring on the wind.

  Tears of rage and frustration rose in her eyes.

  ‘Damn you, Jake Prince,’ she said softly.

  Her whispered
words rose like smoke into the air. After a moment, she drew the scarf over her head and set off after him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE pass merged with a dusty, unpaved road at the base of the mountain. Jake was waiting for Dorian as she skidded down the last steep section. He caught her in his arms, but there was nothing welcoming in his embrace.

  ‘No more lagging behind,’ he snapped. ‘From now on, I want to know where you are at all times.’

  ‘Is that so?’ she said coldly.

  ‘And I don’t want to hear a word out of you. Have you got that?’

  Dorian wrenched free of him. ‘Come off it, Jake. The macho act gets tiresome after a while.’

  ‘Behave yourself,’ he said in a soft, ominous tone.

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or you might just turn our little adventure into something you’ll never forget.’

  ‘You’re very good at making threats. Let’s just see how good you are at keeping promises—like the one you made me about getting us to Kadar.’

  Jake smiled grimly. ‘Just do as you’re told and everything will be fine.’

  He didn’t know how right he was, she thought as he clasped her elbow and tugged her unceremoniously into place beside him. Everything would be fine—just as soon as she notified WorldWeek that she was coming in with the story of the decade. Walt had wanted her to find a way to wangle an interview with the next abdhan. What he’d meant was, get this story even if you have to go to bed with the guy, and she’d told him where he could shove that idea.

  Dorian smiled. In the end, what she’d done was a lot more creative.

  She’d trotted across half of forever with the publicity-shy Jake Prince or Jack Alexander or whatever in hell he wanted to call himself, learning more about him in two days than others had in years of trying.

  No other reporter’s story would be able to hold a candle to hers. She would get the full treatment when the news of her exclusive broke, but she didn’t want it to happen in Kadar. She wanted it the minute they came trudging through the Valley of the Two Suns. She could see it now: TV cameras. Radios, microphones—she wanted it all.

  And she knew exactly how to set it up. All she needed was two minutes alone with a telephone, once they reached Quarem.