A Throne for the Taking (4 page)

‘As...’

Twice Ria opened her mouth to try to get the words out. Twice she failed, and it was only when Alexei turned his narrow-eyed glare on her and muttered her name as if in threat that she forced herself to speak, bringing it out in a rush.

‘As—as their king. You’re needed to take the throne of Mecjoria now that Felix is dead.’

CHAPTER FOUR

A
S
THEIR
KING
.

The words hit like a blow to the head, making Alexei’s thoughts reel. Had he heard right?

You’re needed to take the throne of Mecjoria now that Felix is dead.

Whatever else he had expected, it had not been that. She had made it plain that she and her family had suffered some strong reversal of their fortunes in the upheaval that had followed the struggles over the inheritance of the Mecjorian crown. She had come here to ask for help, that much was obvious. Softening him up by producing the proof of his legitimacy first. Perhaps to play on the fact that they had once been friends in order to get him to use his fortune to help, rescue her family. Why else would she be here?

Why else would she have responded to his kisses as she had?

Because even as he had felt her mouth opening under his, the soft curves of her body melting against him, he had known that she was only doing this for her own private reasons.

Known it and hadn’t cared. He had let her lead him on in that way because he’d wanted it. No woman had excited him, aroused him so much with a single kiss. And there had been plenty of women. His reputation as a playboy had been well earned, and he had had a lot of fun earning it. At least at the beginning. It was only after Mariette—and Belle—that everything had changed. His mind flinched away from the memory but there was no getting away from the after-effects of that terrible day. His appetites had become jaded; his senses numbed. Nothing seemed to touch him like before. There was no longer the thrill of the chase.

Not that he had to do any chasing. Women practically threw themselves at him and he could have his pick of any of them simply by saying the right word, turning a practised smile in their direction. He was under no illusions; he knew it was his position and wealth that was such a strong part of the attraction. That and the bad-boy reputation that haunted him like a dark shadow. So many women wanted to be the one who tamed him. But not one of them had ever stood a chance. He had enjoyed them, shared their beds, sometimes finding the oblivion he sought in their arms. But not one of them had ever heated his blood, set his pulse racing in burning hunger as this one kiss from the former friend he had once known as a young girl, but who had grown into a stunningly sexual woman.

A woman who, like so many others, had been prepared to use that sexuality to persuade him to give her what she wanted.

But this...

‘That’s one hell of a bad joke!’ He tossed the words at her, saw her flinch from the harshness of his tone and didn’t care.

But then something about the way she looked, a widening of those amazing eyes, the sight of white, sharp teeth digging into the rose-tinted softness of her lower lip caught him up short and made him look again, more closely this time. There was more to this than he believed.

‘It was a joke, wasn’t it?’

A bad, black-humorous joke. One meant to stick a knife in between his ribs with the reminder of just how his father’s homeland could never, ever be home to him again. Even if he was the legitimate son of one of their royal family. Disbelief was like an itch in his blood, making him want to pace around the room. Only the determination not to show the way she had rocked his sense of reality kept him still, one hand on the big, carved mantelpiece, the other tightly clenched into a fist inside the pocket of his trousers.

‘A very bad joke...
no...
?’

She had shaken her head as he spoke, sending the auburn mane of her hair flying around her face. But it still couldn’t conceal the way she had lost even more colour, her skin looking like putty, shocking in contrast to the wide darkness of her eyes and the way that the blush of colour flooded to where she had bitten into her lip again.

‘No joke—’ she stammered, low and uneven. ‘It’s not something I’d ever joke about.’

How she wished he would show some sort of reaction, Ria told herself. His stillness and the intent, fixed glare were becoming seriously oppressive.

‘But there’s no way you can be telling the truth. How would your father benefit from this?’

‘My—my father?’

It would have the opposite effect, if only he knew. Her father wouldn’t benefit from this, rather he would gain so much more from the back-up plan that would fall into place if Alexei refused the request she had come to him with. But she had promised herself that she would not tell Alexei that; that she would never use the dark reality of her own situation to try to persuade him into the decision she wanted—needed. Her family had committed enough crimes against his in the past. It was going to stop here, no matter what the result.

But she had hesitated too long. That, and her stammering response, had given her away.

‘Your father must hope to get exactly what he wants from this.’ It was a flat, cruel statement. ‘Why else would he send you here?’

How did he manage to stay so still, so stiff, his eyes dark gleaming pools of contempt? He looked like a jewel-eyed cobra, silent, unmoving, just waiting for the moment to strike.

‘My father wasn’t the one who sent me, but obviously whatever you decide will affect him. And everyone in Mecjoria.’

‘And I should care about that because...?’

‘Because if you don’t then the whole country will fall into chaos. There will be civil unrest, perhaps even revolution. People will be hurt—killed—they’ll lose everything.’

The desperation she felt now sounded in her voice but it was clear that it had no effect on that flinty-eyed stare, the cold set of his hard jaw.

‘And if you don’t take the throne, the only other person who can is Ivan.’

That hit home to him.

She saw his head go back, eyes narrowing sharply at that, and knew the impact her words had had. Only very distantly related, Alexei and Ivan Kolosky had always detested each other. In fact Ivan had once been one of the ringleaders in making Alexei’s life hell as he tried to adjust to life at the Mecjorian court, and they had once bonded together against this cousin several times removed who now was the only other possible heir to the Mecjorian throne.

With one proviso. One that affected her personally in a way that made her stomach curdle just to think of it. And she certainly didn’t want Alexei to know of it or she would be putting extra power into his hands. Power she had no idea just how he would use.

‘How would he be next in line to the succession?’

‘There are ancient laws about the possible heirs. With both the old king and Felix gone, they have to look further afield. And with no one who’s a direct descendant left then the net spreads wider—to you.’

‘And to Ivan.’

It was throwaway, totally dismissive, and it warned her of just what was coming. The indifferent shrug of his shoulders only confirmed it.

‘So, problem solved. You already have an heir—one who will want the throne much more than I ever would. You wouldn’t even need to prove his legitimacy.’

The bitterness that twisted on his tongue made her wince in discomfort.

‘But Ivan isn’t the first in line. It’s only if you refuse the crown that he has a claim.’ Or if she played her own part in his succession as her father wanted. The knots in her stomach tightened painfully at the thought. ‘And we can’t let him take the crown!’

That had him turning a narrow-eyed stare on her shocked and worried face. It was so coldly, bleakly assessing that it made her shift uncomfortably where she stood. She was afraid that he would see her own fears in her expression and know that that gave him an advantage to hold over her.

‘We?’ he queried cynically. ‘Since when was there any “we” involved in this?’

‘You have to consider Mecjoria.’

‘I do? I think you’ll find that I don’t have to do anything—or have anything to do with a country that was never a home to me.’

‘But you must know all about the eruminium...the mineral that has been discovered in the mountains,’ she explained when he made no response other than a sardonic lift of one black brow that cynically questioned her assertion. ‘You’ll know that it’s being mined...’

‘An excellent source of wealth for my cousin,’ Alexei drawled, lounging back indolently against the wall in a way that expressed his total indifference to everything she said.

‘But it’s what it could be used for—eruminium can be used to make weapons almost as dangerous as an atomic bomb. Ivan won’t care what it’s used for—he’ll sell the mining rights to anyone for the highest offer.’

Something flickered in the depths of those stunning eyes. But she couldn’t be sure whether it was the sort of reaction that might help her or one that displayed exactly the opposite.

‘And you actually concede that I might not do just the same?’

‘I have to hope that you wouldn’t.’

Ria no longer cared if her near-panic showed in her voice. Nothing about this meeting was going as she had thought—as she had hoped. Everyone had told her that all she had to do was to talk with Alexei, get him to listen to reason. He would grab at the position, the crown, they had assured her. How could he not when it offered him the wealth and power he must want?

Anyone who thought that had never seen the man Alexei had become, she told herself, looking at the elegantly lean and dangerous figure opposite her. It was obvious that Alexei Sarova had everything he wanted right here.

And, worst of all, was any suggestion that his taking the crown would do anything to help her, as her father’s daughter, would just provide the death blow to any hope of persuading him to do so. The hatred that burned bone-deep was not going to be easily tossed aside.

‘Only hope?’ His question seemed to chip away layers of her protective shell, leaving gaping holes where she most needed a shield. ‘Well, what else should I have expected?’

There was something that burned in those deep, black eyes that challenged and scoured across her nerves all in the same moment. But there was something else mixed in there too, something she couldn’t begin to interpret.

‘I can’t say for sure, can I? After all, I don’t know you.’

‘No,’ Alexei drawled, another challenge, darker than ever. ‘You don’t.’

‘But I do know that if the problem of the succession isn’t solved soon then the whole country will fall into chaos—possibly even revolution. You have to see that.’

‘And I see that your father will find it very uncomfortable if that happens. But I don’t understand why I need to have any part in helping to deal with it. Your father betrayed mine—his memory—by claiming that his marriage to my mother had never been legal. That was when he wanted someone else to be on the throne—and for himself to have the strongest influence possible.’

The words seemed to strip away a much-needed protective layer of skin, leaving Ria feeling raw and painfully exposed. Deep inside she knew she couldn’t defend her father from Alexei’s accusations, and the truth was that she didn’t want to. In fact, she could add more to the list if she had the chance.

‘He destroyed my mother, took everything she had and threw her out of her home, the country.’

And her son with her, Ria acknowledged to herself, wincing inwardly at the cruelly sharp twist at her heart that the memory brought with it. Like everyone else, she’d believed her father’s claims. She’d believed that he was loyal to the crown and to the country. She’d trusted him on that, only to find that all the time he had just been feathering his own nest, and planning on using her as his ace card if he could. But that had been before she had discovered that Gregor had held the document of permission all the time. That he had hidden it in order to get Alexei and his mother away from the court. Only now did she realise exactly why.

‘But you’ve done fine for yourself since then.’

‘Fine?’

One dark brow lifted in cynical mockery as he echoed her tone with deliberate accuracy.

‘If you mean working every hour God sends to earn enough to support my mother and keep her in the way that she needed, give her some comfort and enjoyment when she was desperately ill, then yes, we’ve done “fine”. But that in no way excuses your father for what he has done or puts me under any obligation at all to help him with anything.’

‘No—no you’re not,’ she admitted. ‘But don’t you think that you might have played some part in what had driven him to push you into exile and kept you there afterwards?’

‘And what exactly do you mean by that?’

The silence that greeted her question was appalling, dark and dangerous, bringing her up sharp against what she had said. What she had risked.

Oh, dear heaven, she had really opened her mouth and put both feet right in it there! All she had meant was that it had been his own irresponsible behaviour, the wildness of his ways, that had contributed to her father’s reaction against him and his family. But now she had opened a very ugly can of worms, one she could never put the lid back on ever again. Alexei’s behaviour at court had been one thing. There had been another, darker scandal that had cast a black shadow over his existence once he had settled in England.

‘No—I’m sorry. Obviously...’

‘Obviously?’ Alexei echoed cynically. ‘Obviously you think you know the answer to your question so why ask it?’

‘I didn’t mean to rake over the past.’

‘You would be wise not to—not if you want me to do anything to help your father, because I’ll see him in hell first.’

And that cold-blooded declaration was just too much. It wrenched the top off her control, taking her temper with it.

‘Well, you’ll be right there with him—won’t you?’ she flung at him. ‘After all, what has my father done that compares with letting his baby die?’

It was as if the whole room had frozen over. As if the air had turned to ice, burning in her lungs and making it impossible to breathe. The cold was like a mist before her eyes but even with the swirling haze she could still see the blaze of his eyes, searing through the blurring clouds and scouring over her skin like some brutal laser.

‘What indeed?’

She’d gone too far, said too much, and put herself in danger by doing so. Not physical danger because, no matter how darkly furious she knew that Alexei was, she also had a fiercely stubborn conviction that there was no way he would hurt her.