HEAR YE! HEAR YE! THE GRAND DUKE OF THORTONBURG ANNOUNCES THE JOYFUL DISCOVERY OF A DAUGHTER, VICTORIA, AND GIVES HIS BLESSING TO HER BETROTHAL TO SIR LANCE GRAYSON

LET IT BE KNOWN that a “king’s ransom” led to the Grand Duke’s discovery of his daughter, VICTORIA, a courageous woman who stood her regal ground against her captors…and fell in love with Captain Lance Grayson…

LET IT BE KNOWN that LANCE GRAYSON, newly knighted “Sir,” completed his royal mission with honor—and even took a bullet for his royal bride-to-be! (Note to Sir Lance: Next time…shining armor…)

LET IT BE KNOWN that the long-standing plague—ahem, feud—between the houses of Thorton and Montague is over. (And at last check, no more surprise heirs were on the royal radar screen. But one never knows….)

Dear Reader,

“Happy Birthday to us….” Exactly twenty years ago this May, Silhouette Romance was born. Since then, we’ve grown as a company, and as a series that continues to offer the very best in contemporary category romance fiction. The icing on the cake is this month’s amazing lineup:

International bestselling author Diana Palmer reprises her SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE miniseries with Mercenary’s Woman. Sorely missed, Rita Rainville returns to Romance with the delightful story of a Too Hard To Handle rancher who turns out to be anything but…. Elizabeth August delivers the dramatic finale to ROYALLY WED. In A Royal Mission, rescuing kidnapped missing princess Victoria Rockford was easy for Lance Grayson. But falling in love wasn’t part of the plan.

Marie Ferrarella charms us with a Tall, Strong & Cool Under Fire hero whose world turns topsy-turvy when an adorable moppet and her enticing mom venture into his fire station…. Julianna Morris’s BRIDAL FEVER! rages on when Hannah Gets a Husband—her childhood friend who is a new dad. And in Her Sister’s Child, a woman allies with her enemy. Don’t miss this pulse-pounding romance by Lilian Darcy!

In June, we’re featuring Dixie Browning and Phyllis Halldorson, and in coming months look for new miniseries from many of your favorite authors. It’s an exciting year for Silhouette Books, and we invite you to join the celebration!

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

A Royal Mission
Elizabeth August

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To romance writers everywhere

Happy Millennium!

Books by Elizabeth August

Silhouette Romance

Author’s Choice #554

Truck Driving Woman #590

Wild Horse Canyon #626

Something So Right #668

The Nesting Instinct #719

Joey’s Father #749

Ready-Made Family #771

The Man from Natchez #790

A Small Favor #809

The Cowboy and the Chauffeur #833

Like Father, Like Son #857

The Wife He Wanted #881

*The Virgin Wife #921

*Haunted Husband #922

*Lucky Penny #945

*A Wedding for Emily #953

*The Seeker #989

†The Forgotten Husband #1019

†Ideal Dad #1054

†A Husband for Sarah #1067

The Bridal Shower #1091

*A Father’s Vow #1126

*A Handy Man To Have Around #1157

The Rancher and the Baby #1187

*The Determined Virgin #1229

Paternal Instincts #1265

The Bride’s Second Thought #1288

Marrying O’Malley #1386

Truly, Madly, Deeply #1404

A Royal Mission #1446

Silhouette Books

Jingle Bells, Wedding Bells 1994

“The Forever Gift”

36 Hours

Cinderella Story

Silhouette Special Edition

One Last Fling! #871

*The Husband #1059

Silhouette Intimate Moments

Girls’ Night Out #880

Logan’s Bride #950

ELIZABETH AUGUST

lives in the mountains of North Carolina with her husband, Doug, a chemist. They have three grown sons. Their oldest is pursuing a career in medicine, their middle son is a chemical engineer and their youngest is now in college.

Having survived a bout with cancer, Elizabeth has now joined the ranks of cancer survivors. Writing remains at the top of her list of loves just below her husband, sons and daughter-in-law. Elizabeth has also written under the pseudonym of Betsy Page for Harlequin.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

Using only the full moon to light his way, Lance Grayson moved stealthily through the woods. His destination was the one-room cabin ahead. Its porch roof sagged in one corner and its windows were boarded up. Weeds, underbrush and small trees were reclaiming the clearing in which it sat. Pausing, he used night-vision binoculars to survey the scene in front of him. The place looked totally abandoned. Silently, he cursed. Time was running short for finding Victoria Rockford, and it looked as if this lead was a dud. Even worse, it was his only lead.

He adjusted the binoculars to survey the woods surrounding the cabin. Four of his best men were forming a perimeter circle. In a lowered voice, he spoke into the headset he was wearing, calling each man by name.

Each responded with, “In position, sir.”

So we all get some practice doing night reconnaissance, he told himself, trying to look on the bright side. It didn’t help. The photo he had of Victoria Rockford haunted him. She looked so alive, so vital, her face a strikingly beautiful version of the Thorton features. That she could die because he did not find her soon enough, tore at his very soul. It bothered him that this assignment seemed more personal, more urgent. He was normally much cooler, much more detached.

Aloud he said, “Hold your positions. Looks like a wild-goose chase, but I’m going to see it through as if our quarry is here.”

Making his way to a side window of the cabin, he looked through one of the spaces between the boards. With only slender rays of moonlight illuminating the interior, he could see very little. He was lifting the night-vision binoculars to his eyes when he heard it…a soft moan. Peering through the binoculars, he allowed triumph to flow through him. On a bed in a far corner lay a woman, handcuffed to the brass headrail, her feet bound with rope to the footrail.

“Looks like this might not have been a wild-goose chase after all,” he told the others. “The princess appears to be alone. I’m going in.”

Victoria Rockford fought the drugs she’d been given to sedate her and tried to focus her thoughts. Her struggle proved futile. Her mind remained foggy and the temptation to give in to sleep grew stronger. Her movements slow and weak, she closed her hands around the brass poles of the headboard and gave a jerk on the rope that bound her feet to the brass footrail of the bed. She’d done this a hundred times before. Each time she’d hoped that the bed would finally give way, crumble to pieces and allow her to escape. It hadn’t. She wanted to scream in frustration, but the gag in her mouth prevented that. Mentally, she cursed “The Whisperer,” the name she’d dubbed her kidnapper, and vowed vengeance should she ever get free. When she got free, she corrected herself, refusing to consider the alternative.

Hearing a footfall on the porch, she froze. An adrenaline rush brought some clarity to her sluggish mind. Her captor came twice a day to feed her and to allow her to use the facilities. Blindfolded so that she could not tell if it was day or night, her sense of time had been severely affected. Still, she was certain it was too soon for him to be returning. Normally, by the time he came, the drugs had worn off enough that she had more coordination. Had the time come to find out why she’d been kidnapped? Fear threatened to overwhelm her. Her jaw clenched. She would not go down without a fight.

The door squeaked, signaling that it was being opened. She lay perfectly still, gathering her energy for one final battle. The footfalls approaching her were softer, more cautious than usual. Had her captor sent someone new? Maybe this person would not be so careful.

A beam of light shone on her face.

“Miss Rockford, I’m Captain Lance Grayson,” a man said, switching the light off before working her blindfold loose. “I’m here to help you.”

Victoria blinked several times before she was able to focus. Even then, with only the moonlight, she could make out very little about the man in the cabin. He was dressed all in black and wearing the sort of high-tech gear she’d seen on SWAT teams in cop movies. She wanted to believe he was here to rescue her, but she wasn’t ready to trust anyone. Her being kidnapped didn’t make any sense. What did the kidnapper have to gain? Her father, Malcolm, wouldn’t pay a penny to see her safe. Of that she was certain. Until she knew what was going on, she would remain on her guard.

The man finished removing the gag, then tossed it aside. Next he produced a small kit of lock-picking tools and unfastened the handcuffs. While he worked, he checked in with his men. Assured the perimeter was secure and that no one was approaching, he ordered his jeep brought to the front of the cabin.

Victoria wondered if she were having a drug-induced dream, or maybe even an hallucination. It seemed as if she had been in the cabin forever. Maybe her mind had snapped.

Having freed her hands, the man took out a knife and cut the bonds holding her feet. “Can you sit up?” he asked, easing her into an upright position.

Her head swam and nausea threatened. This was no dream. A nightmare, maybe. But no dream. “I don’t feel so good,” she murmured, her hands fastening around his upper arm for support. The muscles beneath her palms were granite hard. Even in her drugged state a curl of feminine excitement wove through her. In the next instant, it was replaced by a rush of fear. If he should turn that strength against her, she would have little chance of surviving. As she cursed her continued weakness and inability to coordinate her movements properly, her head lolled forward and came to rest on the arm she was clutching.

“You’re going to be fine,” the man assured her. Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her outside to the waiting vehicle.

His strength stunned her while the heat of his body flowed through her, combating the chill in the night air. No longer did she doubt his existence. Her imagination was good, but not that good.

Fighting a fresh wave of grogginess, she peered hard at his face when he settled her on the passenger side and fastened her seat belt. His features were angular and set in a grim expression with no hint of even the barest softness. He was what she would expect her kidnapper to look like, not her rescuer.

Fear rippled through her. Like the good-cop, bad-cop ploy she’d seen used on television police dramas, maybe her kidnappers were playing a game with her. Maybe, for some reason, they needed her cooperation now and thought this was the way to get it.

“I noticed her suitcases are inside. Get them and toss them in the back of my jeep,” the man ordered a subordinate who had driven the jeep to the front of the cabin.

Victoria looked to see who her rescuer was talking to. His companion, too, was dressed all in black. In her dazed state he appeared a shadow image, the kind that drifted in and out of nightmares, scaring the dreamer. A shiver shook her.

She heard her proclaimed rescuer again talking to others through the headset he wore. Looking toward the woods, she saw no one else. Were there other shadowy helpers, or was that part of the game? she wondered. It was hard to think. Sitting back in her seat, she closed her eyes and tried to will her mind to clear and her body to regain its coordination. The endeavor proved too exhausting and darkness encompassed her.

Hoping that at least one of the kidnappers would show up to be captured, Lance issued orders for his men to remain and keep watch over the cabin. “And now to get you to a safe location,” he said to Victoria, climbing into the driver’s seat. Receiving no response, he looked to his companion. She was slumped forward.

Concern swept through him. He felt her pulse. It was beating slowly but regularly. He checked her breathing. It, too, was regular. “Miss Rockford.” He spoke her name tersely.

Her eyelids appeared too heavy to open. “Water,” she requested, her voice hoarse.

Lance grabbed a flask and held it to her lips.

Never opening her eyes, she drank her fill, then slumped against the seat.

Satisfied she was merely in a drugged sleep, Lance drove away from the cabin. Still, he could not stop himself from continually glancing at her. The worry that there could be more wrong with her than merely the effects of drugs taunted him. He frowned. Emotions dulled a person’s instincts, made them unreliable. He didn’t like that. He was a man used to being in total control; a man who had trained himself not to allow anything to distract him from his purpose.

The road was uneven and he hit a pothole, jarring the vehicle. Victoria surfaced with a groan. “My head,” she moaned. In the next instant she was asleep again.

“That does it,” he growled, unable to fight what felt very close to panic for her well-being. Pulling over to the side of the road, he again checked her pulse and breathing. Lifting her eyelid, he flashed a light in her eyes. The pupils were even and reactive. From the emergency medical training courses he’d taken, he knew all signs pointed to simple drug-induced sedation. Still, this time, with this patient, he would be more thorough.

Victoria once again became semiconscious, her demeanor fearful. “What’s going on?”

“I was just checking to see if you were all right.”

Victoria clamped her mouth shut.

The thought that she had incredibly kissable lips flashed into Lance’s mind. Thoughts like that are totally unprofessional, he admonished himself sternly and turned his attention back to the business at hand. “Were you hit on the head? Did you sustain any other blows?”

She seemed to concentrate. “I don’t think so,” she said at last.

Lance studied her face for bruising, then gently ran his fingers through her hair to feel for any lumps on her head. As the long dark tresses wove through his fingers, they produced a seductive effect that threatened to vanquish his mission from his mind. Quickly satisfying himself that she had no lumps or bruises, he broke the contact.

The gentle massage of his fingers had a soothing effect, and Victoria found herself wanting to purr. When he stopped, she felt deprived. He could be making certain you’re in good enough shape for whatever evil he still has in store for you, she cautioned herself, angry that she’d allowed the delicious feel of his touch to weaken her guard. For all she knew, he could be The Whisperer. This last thought sent a chill through her.

He opened a water flask and held it to her lips. “Drink,” he ordered.

This time prudence won out over thirst. “No.”

“You need the water to wash the drugs out of your system,” he coaxed.

Her thirst was growing stronger. She’d drunk before and the water had been drug-free, she reminded herself. Still, she refused to trust the man beside her. “You drink first.”

He smiled, a pleased expression in his eyes, giving the impression that he approved of her behavior. Raising the flask to his lips, he took a swallow.

Deciding the water was safe, she allowed herself to drink. As they pulled back onto the road, her mind seemed to clear a bit and the hope that the drugs were wearing off flowed through her. Testing her body, she tried shifting in her seat. The attempt required a huge expenditure of energy and produced few results. I just need a little nap, she told herself, closing her eyes.

It was daybreak when Lance arrived at his cottage on the northwestern shore of the island nation of Thortonburg. No one knew he owned this place. It was a part of his life he’d kept entirely private. Lifting Victoria out of the jeep, he carried her inside and found himself thinking that she felt very good in his arms. Immediately, he scowled at himself. That was not a thought he should be having about this woman.

“Bathroom,” Victoria murmured against his shoulder.

Carrying her into the facility, Lance stood her on her feet.

She was wobbly and obviously nauseous, but she was determined to take care of her needs in private. “I can do this by myself,” she said tersely.

Lance wasn’t convinced, but he backed out into the hall. “I will leave the door open. If you think you may fall, yell.”

He heard her sluggish movements, then the sound of splashing water.

“Are you finished?” Lance asked, worried she would fall and seriously injure herself.

“Yes,” she replied.

Entering the bathroom, Lance found her holding on to the sink as if to keep from crumpling into a heap on the floor. He scooped her into his arms and strode to the bedroom where he gently laid her on the bed. He removed her shoes, then tossed a light cover over her. Finally he went outside to retrieve her suitcases from the jeep and brought them to the bedroom.

Standing beside the bed watching her sleep, he noted that her color was returning and that her breathing was deeper. With luck the drugs would soon be out of her system.

He showered quickly, then dressed in slacks and a pullover shirt. After checking to see if his guest had awakened and noting that she hadn’t, he made himself some breakfast. But instead of eating in the kitchen, he carried his food into the bedroom. There, he sat in a chair watching Victoria Rockford as he ate. Fury toward the men who had done this to her grew more and more intense. He vowed he would not rest until Malcolm Rockford and his accomplice were captured. And Lance and the Thortons were more than convinced Malcolm was the self-proclaimed “Justicier.”

Again, the thought that he was taking this case much too personally taunted him. “It’s my duty to find those men,” he countered tersely under his breath, needing to speak the words aloud to assure himself they were the truthful reason behind his feelings. Victoria Rockford could never be anything other than someone he was duty-bound to protect.

Victoria turned onto her back and stretched. A smile played at her mouth. She’d been dreaming that she’d been rescued. A ruggedly handsome face, cold and unsmiling, filled her mind. Her smile vanished. Rescued, or merely changed prisons? She frowned. Silly girl. It was just a dream. She stretched again. Her breath locked in her lungs. She was able to move freely. Opening her eyes, she raised her hands upward and looked at them. Her bonds were gone.

More alert now, she realized she was lying on a much softer, much more clean-smelling bed. She opened and closed her eyes a couple more times to bring them into clearer focus. Sunlight streamed through an open window and the room smelled of sea breezes. Was she still dreaming?

Her gaze traveled around the room. The decor was masculine and a little stark, but she liked it. Turning her head as far to the right as she could, her whole body suddenly became rigid. Seated in a chair near the bed was the man she had been dreaming about. He was no longer dressed all in black or equipped with the high-tech equipment, but the face…the stern, cold-featured face…was the same. And he was armed. He wore a leather shoulder holster that housed a very dangerous-looking weapon. She thought she saw a momentary flash of relief in his eyes as he rose and approached the bed, but her guard remained strongly in place.

“Would you like some water?” he asked.

She recalled that he’d given her water before and it had been safe to drink. Attempting to ease herself into a sitting position, she was assailed by a wave of dizziness. She squeezed her eyes shut to fight the sensation.

“Are you all right?” the man asked with cool composure.

“Dizzy,” was all she could manage to reply.

“That’s a natural reaction after having been drugged.” Seating himself on the side of the bed, he slipped his arm behind her shoulders and eased her up so that she could swallow. “Drink. The fluid will help.”

Victoria obeyed. As the bout of dizziness subsided, she became acutely aware of the strength of the arm holding her. Although a great deal of the past days remained a blur, that part…the sturdiness of her rescuer…she remembered vividly. The thought that if he was on her side she would never have to be afraid again filled her mind.

He waited until she’d drunk as much as she wanted, then laying her down gently, he asked, “How do you feel now?”

“Like my body is a two-ton weight,” she replied honestly, the struggle to shift herself continuing to require tremendous effort.

“That, too, is natural. I’ll bring you some soup.”

She noted that he spoke to her in an efficient, factual manner, politely but with no emotion. Friend or foe? She could not be sure. Whichever he was, he wasn’t worried about her escaping, she noted. He left her free of bonds when he exited the room.

Long ago she’d vowed that she would not passively accept whatever fate life dealt her. Determined to regain her strength and coordination so that if she must fight for her freedom she would at least have a chance, she forced herself into a sitting position, her legs dangling off the side of the bed. The movement helped. Her body felt a little less leaden.

Still, her neck remained so weak, her head drooped downward until her chin rested on her chest. Drawing in a deep breath, she grimaced at the whiff of body odor. She needed a bath. Even more importantly, nature was again calling. Easing herself off the bed, she stood beside it. Her legs felt rubbery. When she tried to walk, she tottered and was forced to grab hold of one of the rear posters for support. “Rats!” she cursed in frustration. “And mice! And snakes!”

Lance was pouring the soup into a pan when he heard her. He raced back to the bedroom, fear for her jolting him as he entered. She was pale as a sheet and looked as if she was going to fall any second. “You’re not strong enough to walk around on your own yet,” he barked, reaching her in long strides.

“That part I figured out,” she returned curtly.

“You need to lie back down.” He tried to loosen her grasp on the bedpost so that he could get her back on the bed.

Victoria refused to budge. “What I need is to use the facilities.”

“You have spunk. Most people in your condition, both men and women, would still be lying flat on the bed and yelling for help.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “All right. Let go of the post and I’ll take you there.”

Acutely aware of his arm across her back and his hand holding her at the waist, she released her hold. His touch had a curiously invigorating effect as if she was gathering strength from him. When he placed his other hand in front of her, offering it for further support, she took hold and began to move forward, out of the room. For someone so strong, he was incredibly gentle. And she thought she’d seen real concern in his eyes when he’d come bursting into the room.

Straightening a little to maintain her balance, she glimpsed his gun and a chill of fear curled through her. Don’t be too quick to trust him, her inner voice cautioned. He could simply be under orders to see that you’re not injured for the time being.

“You said something about mice and snakes? Did you see any?”

Realizing he was worried that she was hallucinating, Victoria smiled dryly. “No. My parents never allowed my sister and I to use profanity, so when we would feel the need to curse we would name things we found disgusting.”

They had reached the bathroom, and Victoria released her hold on him and took hold of the door-jamb. “I can take care of myself from here.”

He regarded her doubtfully.

She glared up at him. “I insist.”

Carefully, he freed her.

Using the wall for balance, Victoria entered the bathroom and closed the door, but instead of reveling in her privacy, she found herself missing her host’s support. With her forehead pressed against the wall for stability, she unfastened her pants, pushed them and her panties down, then sat. The drugs were definitely wearing off. Her movements, although still sluggish, were more coordinated.

With her elbows on her knees, she rested her head in her hands. Memories of her incarceration in the cabin flooded over her. Being escorted by her current host had been a great deal different than being escorted by The Whisperer. The Whisperer’s touch had left her feeling groped and unclean.

Her gaze turned to the tub. The need to wash off The Whisperer’s touch overwhelmed her.

“Are you all right?” the man asked through the door.

“I’m fine. I’m going to bathe.”

“I don’t think you’re steady enough yet.”

“I’m going to bathe,” she returned, her voice holding no compromise.

His silence gave away his reticence, but finally he said, “If you feel faint, yell.”

Victoria remained sitting while she stripped. Once finished, she stared at the pile of discarded clothing. “I think I’ll burn them.” She was certain she recalled seeing her suitcases in the bedroom. If that had been merely wishful thinking, she would borrow something from her host, but she was never going to slip one toe into the clothes on the bathroom floor ever again.

Climbing into the tub, she drew the shower curtain and turned on the water. As the hot water cascaded over her, she was certain nothing had ever felt this good. Her legs were still weak and when she bent over to pick up the bottle of shampoo on the side of the tub, dizziness threatened to send her reeling. Sitting down under the flow of the water, she waited until the sensation had subsided, then lathered her hair.

Luxury. Absolute luxury. She issued a sigh of pure pleasure as she rinsed the suds out of her hair, then soaped her body.

Standing by the door, fresh towel in hand, listening for any sign of trouble from inside, Lance frowned more darkly at himself. If she required help, he needed to be there in an instant. Time to bite the bullet.

Opening the door, he entered the room. The shower curtain prevented him from seeing her, but the remembered feel of her in his arms gave his imagination fodder and he found himself visualizing her nude body, wet and sudsy. Fire ignited within him. Erase that thought! he ordered himself.

“Are you all right?” he demanded.

Startled by his voice, she scooted to the back of the tub and peered around the curtain. “What are you doing in here?”

Lance had never seen a woman look more desirable. It took a great deal of effort, but outwardly he maintained a cool, indifferent facade. “I figured that if you fainted, I wouldn’t be much help in the hall,” he said with staid formality, while inwardly he fought a bout of lust more powerful than any he’d ever experienced.

She let the shower curtain fall between them again, seemed to take a moment to rinse thoroughly, then reached her arm around the curtain. “May I have a towel?”

Lance placed the towel in her hand. In his mind’s eye he visualized her first drying her hair, then rubbing down her body. His imagination was definitely working overtime. Anger that he was having so much trouble keeping his mind on the business at hand raged through him. This was not like him at all. Even in situations where he could not control all of the elements, he was always in total control of himself. Victoria Rockford was having a very disquieting effect on him.

“I’m certain I can make it back to the bedroom on my own,” she said through the curtain.

Lance would have liked nothing better than to obey the dismissal in her voice. But he couldn’t. “I’ll just stick around and make sure you don’t need a helping hand.”

The towel securely in place, Victoria pulled back the curtain.

Lance felt numb. She was even sexier than he’d imagined. Duty, man. Remember your duty, he ordered himself. Stepping back, he gave her room to step out of the tub. When she teetered slightly, he caught her by the elbow. The contact sent a charged current of heat racing through him.

Acutely aware of his touch, Victoria was startled to realize that she had no desire to pull away. Instead, she liked the feel of his hand…it made her feel secure, safe. He’s allowed you to see him. If he’s one of the bad guys, he’s probably planning to kill you eventually! she reminded herself and the safe feeling vanished.

When he released her quickly after they’d reached the hall, Victoria recognized that he’d held on to her for only as long as was absolutely necessary for her to regain her balance. Glancing toward him covertly, she saw his shuttered expression and her fear increased. On one hand, he was taking very good care of her. But on the other, his cold, impersonal behavior indicated that he did not consider her someone he wanted to befriend.

Able to make it back to the bedroom on her own, she entered and closed the door. Curiously, she missed her stoic companion’s presence. You really are muddled, she mocked herself. She didn’t even know if he was friend or foe. And right now, her money was on foe.

Chapter Two

Outside the bedroom door, Lance stood immobilized by indecision. He was not certain his control was strong enough, should he insist on helping Victoria dress. The effect she had on him was more than disturbing. It was unnerving.

Finally, deducing she was steady enough to find her own clothes and dress herself, he returned to the kitchen and finished warming up some soup. He carried it back to the bedroom and knocked before entering. Inside, he found her dressed in a fresh pair of slacks and a lightweight sweater, sitting in the chair he’d occupied earlier, combing her hair. She stopped and looked his way.

“Your soup,” he said, extending the cup of hot liquid toward her. “I thought you should start with something light.”

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the cup.

Lance seated himself on the end of the bed and studied her. The sunlight shone on her hair, highlighting strands of gold among the dark brown tresses. His gaze traveled to her face. Even without makeup she was beautiful. She’s a Thorton, of royal blood, and a woman I am sworn to serve, he reminded himself curtly.

Victoria was aware of his scrutiny as she sipped her soup. Looking at him, she said, “I would like to go home now.”

“It’s not safe for you to leave here just yet.” He read the distrust in her eyes. The last thing he needed was for her to try to run away from him. “I assure you, my concern is only for your welfare. It is my duty to see that no harm comes to you.”

“It is your duty to keep me safe from harm?”

Deciding she was not ready to hear the full truth just yet, he said simply, “Yes.”

Victoria tried to remember what he’d told her in the cabin. The memory was too vague, too filled with shadowy images. “And who did you say you are?”

“I am Captain Lance Grayson, Head of the Investigative Division of the Royal Security Detail of Thortonburg. I was assigned to find you.”

Victoria had to admit he did look like a protector. But she still wasn’t ready to trust him. “Do you have some sort of identification?”

From his pocket, he produced a leather-encased gold badge.

It looked real, Victoria admitted. But it didn’t make any sense that someone from the Royal Security Detail would be looking for her. Their duty was to protect the royal family. There were other agencies for commoners to turn to. “So you found me. Why can’t you take me home?”

“Your kidnappers are still at large. It is possible they will worry that you can identify them. They might seek to eliminate you. For now, it’s safest to keep you in hiding.”

His reasoning sounded plausible. Maybe the royal security people were called in on kidnappings. Those were very rare occurrences in their little country. Enlightenment suddenly dawned on her. “It was a mistake, wasn’t it? The kidnappers kidnapped the wrong person.”

“It was no mistake.”

She looked at him skeptically. “Then, do you know why I was kidnapped?”

“For ransom.”

Her disbelief increased. “That doesn’t make any sense. In the first place, my father isn’t wealthy. He’s a headmaster. And in the second place, anyone who knew anything about us would know he wouldn’t pay even a wooden nickel to set me free.” She flushed with embarrassment at having admitted to a stranger how strained her relationship with her father was, but her companion showed no surprise, only curiosity.

“To aid us in capturing the person or persons who abducted you, I need to know all you can remember about your kidnapping.”

Victoria would have preferred to forget the whole ordeal, but she wanted The Whisperer caught and brought to justice. And, if Captain Grayson was on the level, he was certainly the man who could do just that. “I remember arriving in Thortonburg. I’d taken the bus from the airport. I got in late. Very late. I was walking to my flat, when I was grabbed from behind.” She paused as a tremor of remembered fear shook her. “Something evil-smelling was pressed over my nose and mouth. I woke in the cabin, bound, gagged and blindfolded.” Suddenly realizing she had no clue as to how long she’d been in captivity, she asked, “What is today’s date?”

Lance told her.

“I was held for well over a week,” she murmured, then added, “it felt more like a year.”

Lance obviously sensed the strain that remembering was causing her because his tone softened to a gentle but firm coaxing. “What do you recall of your captivity?”

Again she found herself not wanting to remember. It was only Captain Grayson’s presence that made her feel secure enough to allow her mind to go back to those dreadful days. He was, she thought, very like a granite pillar. For a moment she remained silent to allow the memories to become clearer, then she spoke again. “I remember that when I first woke, there were ropes binding my wrists. I had almost gotten them loose when The Whisperer arrived.”

“The Whisperer?”

“That’s the name I gave my captor because he always whispered.” She shivered. “It was an ugly whisper. Malicious. I could swear I heard amusement in it as if he was enjoying himself immensely.”

He won’t enjoy himself when I catch up with him, Lance vowed. “You say you had almost freed yourself when he returned?”

Victoria nodded. “He said it was lucky for me he’d arrived when he did. He said that if I’d freed my hands and taken my blindfold off and seen him, he’d have to kill me. Then he said that would be a shame because he’d gone to so much trouble to see that he didn’t have to go that far. He told me he’d waited to start giving me sedatives until the chloroform had worn off so that he could be certain not to use too many drugs on me at any one time. Then he said he’d have to use his handcuffs in the future.”

“Do you remember anything that might identify the man you call The Whisperer?”

Victoria studied her proclaimed rescuer. Again, the thought played through her mind that if he was truly on her side, she had found a champion who could protect her. But nothing about what was happening to her made any sense. And the fact that he refused to take her home continued to feed her suspicions.

Then there was his very official, very stiff manner. On one hand, it was assuring. On the other, she would have felt more at ease if he’d behaved, at least a little, as if he wanted to be her friend. Until she found out what was really going on, she would trust no one. And as soon as the opportunity arose, she would escape and search out the truth on her own.

Turning her mind back to The Whisperer, Victoria concentrated hard for a long moment, then said, “No, nothing definitive. He came a couple of times a day, I think, and would unbind me, lead me to the facilities, let me use them, then have me drink down a can of something that tasted like a food supplement. Then he’d make me swallow more pills. The first couple of times, I tried not to swallow them, but he put a gun to my head and gave me no choice.’ A shiver of disgust shook her. “Every time he came, I required more and more help from him.” Not wanting to remember anymore, she turned her gaze to the window. “Since you will not take me home, will you at least allow me to go outside?”

“Yes, of course.” He rose and took the mug from her, then offered her his arm.

Studying the holstered gun as she accepted his aid to rise, she wondered if she could extract it from the holster quicker than he could stop her. At the moment, she knew she couldn’t, and without the gun she was no match for his strength. So for now she would continue to play his game, whatever that game was. Once on her feet, she released him. She could not shake the fear that he was the enemy and his sturdiness unnerved her. “I can walk on my own,” she said.

Respectful of her wish, Lance stepped back and allowed her to proceed ahead of him.

Victoria moved slowly, not only because her body was still sluggish, but also because she wanted to survey her surroundings. The room across from the bedroom looked like a study. Pausing at the doorway, she asked, “Whose house is this?”

“Mine,” Lance replied.

His answer was encouraging. Surely he would not have taken her to his place if he intended to harm her. It would be too difficult to get rid of all the evidence that she’d been there. Wondering if he would stop her, she entered the study, hoping to find clues that would tell her if her host was being honest with her.

Aware of the furtive glances she’d cast his way, Lance knew she still didn’t trust him. He couldn’t blame her. Her kidnapping had been a terrible ordeal. And, because she didn’t know the whole truth, a confusing one. In her shoes, he wouldn’t be ready to trust too quickly, either.

He was well aware of the strained relationship between father and daughter, but for Victoria to suspect Malcolm Rockford wouldn’t lift a finger, or spare a dime, to save her saddened him.

He found himself thinking that most men would believe she was worth much more than her weight in gold and jewels. There was an aura about her that lit up a room. The Grand Duke was certain to be pleased when she was presented to him.

Hoping that allowing her the freedom to explore his home would ease her distrust of him, he remained in the doorway, making no move to stop her.

She paused in front of a large, well-stocked bookcase. It contained everything from classics to the most current modern fiction. “Have you really read all of these books?”

“Yes.”

Surprise registered on her face. She turned to him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’m impressed.” She turned her attention to a wall with an assortment of photographs and plaques. The photographs were of him with Victor Thorton, Grand Duke of Thortonburg, and King Phillip of Wynborough, along with other members of their respective royal families. Inscriptions thanked him for his service. The plaques were special honors for bravery. There were also two glass shadow boxes with military medals, including two medals for valor. Clearly, she could see he was who he said he was.

She turned to him again. “You’ve had a very notable career.”

The stoic mask he had trained himself to always keep in place remained unchanged, but the honest admiration in her voice caused a surge of pleasure deep within. I’m merely relieved that she finally believes me, he told himself. Aloud, he said, “I take my duty very seriously.”

Victoria looked back at the photographs. His expression in each was the same one of cool command. Again, she turned back to him. “Do you ever smile?”

Lance knew others considered him a bit too grim, but he was comfortable with the path he’d chosen. Though many thought of him as cold and, perhaps, in some cases even unlikable, they always turned to him when they needed help. “Not when I’m on duty.”

Victoria continued to study him. “Maybe your muscles are already frozen in that position and you can’t smile.” She gulped, as if normally she was a bit more prudent than that.

Lance found himself having to fight to keep the corners of his mouth from tilting upward. “That is possible.”

Victoria saw the hint of amusement in his eyes. That he could laugh at himself made him seem a little less austere and certainly more human. In the next instant the amusement was gone, replaced by cool command. Clearly, he was intent on keeping any softer side of himself private. Heading to the door, she noticed that he stepped back immediately to allow her to exit.

“You have a very comfortable home,” she said, as she glanced into the kitchen, then continued on into the living room. “Definitely on the masculine side, but nice.”

Again Lance was surprised by how very pleased her approval made him. Long ago he’d stopped caring what other people thought and lived his life by his own personal code. “I hope that means you won’t mind spending a few days here, if that proves necessary.”

Victoria opened the French doors that led out onto a wide, screened-in porch facing the ocean. This was the kind of place she’d hoped to find for herself one day. But that was in the future. Right now she must deal with the present.

Although her body was still somewhat weak, the languid effect of the drugs on her mind had nearly worn off. At an early age, she had taken command of her life. It was time for her to take control again. “I hope you don’t take this wrong. Your home is very pleasant, your view is magnificent and you’ve been very kind, but I have a life to get back to. I took a leave of absence from my job because I felt the need to get away for a time. My mother’s death has been very difficult for me to accept. But I should be getting back before they decide to give my job to someone else.”

“I have already explained that it is not yet safe for you to return home.”

Again The Whisperer’s hot, ugly breath blowing against her face came back to haunt her and terror curled through her. “When will it be safe?”

“Soon.”

Victoria could not shake the feeling that he wasn’t telling her everything. Stepping out onto the porch, she considered going down to the beach, but her legs were tiring. “What kind of drug did they give me? And when is it going to wear off?” she demanded in frustration, seating herself on the porch swing.

“I can’t be certain what drug, exactly. Some sort of sedative,” he replied. “The reason you’re still sluggish is because of the cumulative effect and your forced inactivity. Being up and moving around should help you to improve fairly rapidly.”

Even knowing her host was who he claimed to be, Victoria remained uneasy. Being kidnapped didn’t make sense. Being rescued by royal commandos and then protected by such a high-ranking royal security person made even less sense. Looking up and down the beach, she saw no other houses. “Just exactly where are we?” Even as she asked, she wondered if he’d answer.

“We’re about an hour and a half southwest of Thortonburg.”

Alarms sounded in her mind. “That’s a bit far for you to commute, isn’t it?”

“I have quarters in the castle. This is my private retreat.”

That was plausible, she conceded. Still, as her gaze again swept the beach in both directions and she saw no signs that anyone else was near, her uneasiness increased. “Definitely private.”

“The thirty acres to the north belong to Sir Ralph Bryce. The twenty acres to the south belong to Charles Howser, the wealthy industrialist. Both like their privacy, so they have built their homes at quite a distance apart.”

Victoria knew the men from articles written about them in the tabloids. Both traveled extensively, causing her to guess they were rarely at their beach homes. If she did discover she needed to escape, she probably couldn’t count on finding one of them at home to aid her. “So just how long do you predict I will have to stay here?”

“The ransom is scheduled to be paid tomorrow morning in a park in the Mulberry neighborhood of Thortonburg. With luck, your captor will either return to the cabin and be caught there, or he’ll be captured when he attempts to pick up the ransom.”

“My father actually came through with the ransom?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes. But, since you have been freed, we’ll be putting out a decoy rather than the real money.”

Victoria hardly noticed what he said. She was still reeling from the knowledge that Malcolm had been willing to pay her ransom. “I still can’t believe Father came up with the money. If it had been my sister, Rachel, I could understand. He always favored her. But he treated me like dirt under his boot.” The thought that the threat of her death had made Malcolm realize he did care for her brought a rush of joy. For most of her life she’d told herself she didn’t care what he thought. Now she admitted that she had wanted him to care for her. He was, after all, her father. “I should call him.”

When she started to rise, Lance moved into a position that blocked her entrance into the house. “That wouldn’t be wise.”

Immediately, Victoria was on her guard. Maybe her host was a good guy turned bad. But that didn’t make any sense. If he’d wanted to kidnap someone for ransom, surely he would have chosen one of the royals. He certainly had easy access to them. “Why can’t I call my father?”

Lance had been prepared for this. “His phone might be bugged and we don’t want the kidnappers to know you’re free.”

“Surely you would know if it was bugged or not.”

She looked like a filly ready to bolt. Lance didn’t like being the one to deliver the news, but the time had come to tell her the truth. “There are things you need to know.”

His words carried an ominous ring. Meeting his gaze, Victoria saw uneasiness in the gray depths of his eyes. Clearly he was worried about how she would take whatever it was he had to tell her. Her body stiffened as she braced herself. “What do I need to know?”

“There is no easy way to say this.” Lance paused.

He’s going to tell me that he’s part of the kidnapping plot and has to kill me! Victoria’s hands balled into fists. She would not go down without a fight. “Just say it,” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“Malcolm Rockford is not your father.”

Victoria sat starting at him dumbly. If she’d made a list of a hundred things he might tell her, that revelation would not even have entered her mind. “That’s absurd.”

Lance saw the shock on her face and took a step toward her in order to catch her if she should faint. As he drew nearer, the desire to take her hands in his as an offer of support was strong. Telling himself it would not be proper, he held himself back. Deep within, he was forced to admit there was another reason he wanted to avoid any contact. Just looking at her had a disquieting effect on him. Touching her threatened to crack the shield he kept around his emotions and that was something he would not allow. “It is the truth.”

“Are you telling me that I was one of those babies who was accidentally switched at birth in the hospital?”

“No.” Lance had thought that once he got the first part out, the rest would be easy. It wasn’t. If she had idolized her mother, what he had to tell her next could be an even greater blow.

“I was adopted?”

“No.”

Victoria stared at him in silence for a long moment, then said stiffly, “For as long as I can remember, I have always known that I was born sooner than nine months after my parents were married. My mother said I was premature, but my birth weight was nearly the same as my sister’s and she was full-term. I always suspected that my mother was pregnant when she married Malcolm Rockford, but I assumed he was my father.”

“Your mother was pregnant when she married, but Rockford wasn’t the father.” Lance took another step closer, her paleness increasing his worry that she might faint.

Victoria drew in a deep breath. Leaning back in the swing, she lifted her legs upward and wrapped her arms around them. Sitting with her chin resting on her knees, she stared out at the ocean.

Recognizing her need for silence, Lance eased himself into a nearby chair. The lost look on her face tore at him. For her sake, he wished the worst of her shock was over, but he knew it wasn’t. Knowing that once she absorbed what he’d told her there would be more questions, he sat tensely, like a man waiting for the second shoe to fall and wishing he could make this easier for her.

Hell, if she’d had my parents for a mother and father, she’d be rejoicing right now, Lance mused bitterly. Immediately, he scowled at himself. He thought he’d put his anger behind him. It served no purpose.

Victoria’s childhood played through her mind. Memories so hurtful she’d tried to erase them came flooding back. “I used to think there was something terribly wrong with me because my own father couldn’t love me. I remember when I was in third grade. I got the lead part in this little production the teachers decided to put on. I worked so hard to be perfect. The audience was effusive. Of course, I know now that we could have all stumbled over our feet and forgotten all our lines and they would have cheered. That’s what parents do.

“Anyway, I was basking in the glow of success. But on the way home, Father…Malcolm started telling me all the things I’d done wrong. I was crying by the time we reached the house. My mother admonished him, saying I was just a child and she thought I’d done very well. Malcolm gave her one of his superior looks and said that people should tell the truth, no matter how unsavory.”

This was one of those images that had remained sharp, no matter how hard she’d tried to erase the memory. Now, in her mind’s eye, she saw her mother’s and Malcolm’s faces. Her mother had looked stricken and clamped her mouth shut, saying no more. Malcolm had looked pleased with himself. As the full impact of that exchange hit her, she said in a voice barely above a whisper, “He was chiding my mother for lying to him. He must have known or, at least, suspected all along that I was not his.”

“It is my duty to see that he causes you no further harm.”

His words only half sank in as more memories of her youth continued to flow. She could not count the number of times her mother had told her not to pay any heed to Malcolm’s criticisms. Maribelle Rockford had explained that her husband was a perfectionist and no one could live up to his standards. But Victoria had noticed that, her sister, Rachel, had garnered Malcolm’s praise. And he had been jealously possessive of Maribelle. Only Victoria had been made to feel like an unwanted intruder in his household.

Refusing to allow the hurtful memories to overwhelm her, she rested her forehead on her knees and forcefully shoved the images from her mind.

“Would you like some coffee?” Lance offered, feeling the need to provide what comfort he could. Anger toward the cruelty she’d suffered under Malcolm’s rule raged through him. Like him, she’d had no choice regarding the circumstances of her birth, and yet she’d been the one to pay the price.

Lifting her head, Victoria again stared at the sea. A shiver shook her. She was not certain if she was really cold or if it was shock that chilled her. Her mother’s death and now the discovery that she wasn’t who she thought she was made rational thinking difficult. Unable to even speak, she simply nodded her acceptance of his offer.

Lance regarded her with concern as he rose. Seeing her shiver, he retrieved his jacket from a peg on the wall. “Cream or sugar or both?” he asked as he wrapped the jacket around her shoulders.

His fingers brushing against her sent jolts of heat coursing through Victoria. It was as if his touch fed strength into her. Her gaze traveled upward over his broad chest to his face. In spite of the cold, stern set of his jaw, he made her feel safe and secure. “Neither, thank you.”

Lance saw the lingering pain in her eyes and the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her sadness away became strong. In the next instant, that desire was erased by self-directed anger. Years ago, he’d banished those kind of tender emotions forever. And yet, from the moment he’d first seen her picture he’d sensed those emotions trying to find new life. That was something he would never allow. In the future, remember to keep your distance, he ordered himself, quickly stepping back. “I’ll get that coffee.”

As he disappeared into the house, Victoria found herself missing his company. That was not like her. She prided herself on her ability to stand alone, needing no one. Even more surprising was that she should feel so drawn to this man she barely knew. Normally, she was very hesitant when it came to forming alliances.

Taking in a deep breath of the fresh ocean breeze, she suddenly froze, locking the air in her lungs. Captain Grayson said her father had come up with the ransom. If Malcolm wasn’t her father, who was? Releasing the breath, she rose and went inside. She met the captain in the living room on his way to the porch, coffee mugs in hand. “Who is my father?”

For a moment he hesitated, then said, “Victor Thorton, Grand Duke of Thortonburg.”

She didn’t care how many photographs the man had with himself and various dignitaries. He was obviously a nutcase. “That’s ridiculous. My mother and the Grand Duke? No way.” Realizing his hands were occupied with the coffee cups, Victoria made a grab for the gun. Lance cursed under his breath as she snapped the holster open and extracted the weapon.

Stepping back, holding the gun on him, Victoria frowned. “That was way too easy. Are there really bullets in this thing?”

“Yes, there are bullets,” he replied, setting aside the coffee cups. “I didn’t want you to get burned with the coffee. I gave your father my word, I would protect you from harm.”

His voice carried the ring of truth, but Victoria refused to be swayed. She was well aware that some sick minds could even fool lie detector machines. “You were just worried that if you tried to stop me, I would accidentally shoot you. Now get your hands up.”

“Women,” Lance muttered. Reaching across the space between them, his hand closed over the gun. “Give me back my weapon.”

Victoria ordered herself to pull the trigger. She couldn’t. Where his fingers touched hers a heat radiated through her, paralyzing her into inaction. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes as she released her hold.

Lance couldn’t believe he’d allowed her to get his gun. Normally he was much more alert. She was having a very disconcerting effect on him. That body, that face, those blue eyes, that long dark hair…she’d have a disconcerting effect on any man, he reasoned. What shocked him was that he wasn’t angry with her. In fact, he again found himself admiring her spunk. Seeing the tears in her eyes, he attempted to soothe her as he reholstered the gun. “You couldn’t have fired anyway. The safety was on.”

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