McKinnon's Royal Mission (12 page)

* * *

“Given the acceleration, which is a second-order differential equation,” Mara explained, writing with a dark blue erasable marker on the whiteboard in the small classroom where she taught her grad students, “if you integrate you get the velocity.” She quickly added several more figures and symbols, the marker squeaking slightly in her writing haste. “If you integrate again, you get the distance traveled.”

She glanced back at her students. “See how that works?” Expressions of intense concentration and comprehension met her questioning gaze. “Remember, while pure mathematics has a beauty and meaning of its own, it is
applied
mathematics that drives our world.” She smiled at them. “Engineers in the room, take heart. We are heading into your territory now.”

Mara glanced regretfully at the clock. “And that, I think, is all for today.” She held up one hand to hold the class for a moment. “Do not forget, your term papers are due next Friday. No excuses,” she warned, but with the understanding smile that reminded her students she was available if any of them were struggling with the concepts and needed assistance. She placed the marker in the little trough beneath the whiteboard as the room exploded with sudden chatter and the noise of a dozen students slinging textbooks and notebooks into backpacks or briefcases and surging toward the door.

Trace rose from his seat near the front of the room as they did so, moving quickly yet with an apparent lack of haste toward Mara’s side, his own backpack slung over his left shoulder and his right hand casually tucked inside his jacket. Two students whom Mara knew were engineering grad students and study partners stayed back and approached her with questions, which she answered after giving each question careful thought. A third student, a young man of obvious Arabic descent hovered by the door, waiting, and when Mara was free he darted forward to pose his question. After a long and detailed discussion that involved use of the whiteboard again to demonstrate what she meant, the student eventually left.

Through it all, Trace’s eyes had never left the face of the young man talking with her. Now he followed the student to the classroom door, closed it behind him and locked it while Mara wiped the eraser over the whiteboard until it was clean. She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly with a little sound of satisfaction, allowing herself to relax finally as another strenuous week came to an end. She loved teaching, but her students kept her on her toes, especially her grad students. Their questions sometimes stretched her brain to its limit, but tough questions were a good sign. It proved she was reaching them. It proved she was making them
think
, and that was even more important than the concepts she was trying to impart.

Now that they were alone, she turned to Trace and allowed herself to smile at him in a more intimate fashion than she did when others were around. Sometimes he smiled back, but today wasn’t one of those days, and Mara hid a sigh. “What is it?” she asked.

“We have new intel on that man,” he said curtly, indicating the student who’d just left with a tilt of his head.

Mara’s brow wrinkled. “Intel? What is that?”

“Intelligence.” When she still looked at him with confusion, he added, “Military speak for information gathering.”

Comprehension dawned. “My students?” she asked in disbelief. “You are spying on my students?”

“Not me personally, but yes, the State Department has a dossier on every one of your students. What did you expect?”

Mara sank onto the edge of the desk and removed her eyeglasses, staring at him dumbfounded. “I...I had no idea.” She gazed up at Trace. “Why?”

“To keep you safe, of course.”

“But...they are
students.
” Mara knew her dismay was obvious. “They would not harm me.”

Trace shook his head. “You can’t know that for sure.” He hesitated for a moment. “That young man who was just here, for example. Good student, right? Head of the class. Applies himself diligently. But what do you really know about him? Did you know, for instance, that he has a second cousin in Lebanon with suspected ties to Hezbollah?”

Mara’s thoughts flew to the young man in question. So earnest. So polite. So eager to learn whatever she could teach him. She could not envision him as a terrorist, or even as someone with terrorist leanings. “What does that have to do with Zakhar? With me?”

“Maybe nothing. But we can’t take chances with your safety. By knowing everything we can about those around you we can plan accordingly, so we’ve read the dossiers the State Department compiled. And we continue to get updates.”

A sudden realization startled her. “Alec and Liam, too? They have read these secret reports on my students?”

“Of course. And not just your students. The faculty and staff here, too. Not to mention the people you brought with you from Zakhar.”

Mara covered her face with her palm and made a sound of distress. “I did not know,” she whispered. There was silence between them for a minute, then she glanced up sharply. “Does Andre know of this?”

Trace’s mouth twitched into a rueful smile. “It was his suggestion. Command, really, but couched in diplomatic terms. Even if he hadn’t raised the issue, though, I would have.”

“But
why
? I cannot believe...this is worse than the paparazzi. To spy on people. To pry into their private lives. To hold the sins of others against them.” Mara knew she was getting worked up, but this was something she had never imagined the only two men she loved in the whole world would have in common. Concern for her safety, yes, even a fierce desire to protect her. That she understood. But to go this far? To suspect everyone?

“Whose life can stand up to such intense scrutiny?” she demanded hotly.

“How did you know when we first met that I once spent six months in Zakhar?” Trace asked reasonably.

“That was—” Mara stopped short. She’d been about to say that was different, but she suddenly realized it really wasn’t. She remembered that even before she’d left Zakhar she’d read dossiers, complete with pictures, on all three men who would be guarding her, bare bones dossiers submitted by the US State Department but expanded by Zakhar’s secret intelligence service. She hadn’t thought about it at the time, hadn’t even considered that this was exactly what she was protesting against now.

But no one’s life is free of things they would rather keep private,
she thought.
Mine certainly is not.
A wave of warm color surged into her cheeks as she remembered the intimate details of everything she and Trace had done at his cabin weeks ago.
There is nothing to be ashamed of,
she reminded herself sternly.
We did nothing wrong.
And yet, she knew she would not want anyone else to know about it. What they had done was personal. Private. A memory she cherished, but not one she wanted broadcast to the world. She didn’t even want it contained in some secret report that someone might read.

A thought came to her unbidden, and she blurted it out. “You did not...no,” she said, shaking her head as if she could make the thought go away by her denial.

“Didn’t what?”

“You would not,” Mara reassured herself and him. “You would not betray to anyone what we did in your cabin.” Trace stiffened but he didn’t respond, just looked at her from under his dark eyebrows, a forbidding expression on his face. She added quickly, “I am sorry. It is a despicable thing to accuse you of, and I know in my heart you would not.”

Trace still didn’t speak, and a little calmer now, Mara asked, “Is it even legal for your government to spy on its citizens this way? Zakhar, yes. This I understand. The citizens of Zakhar do have rights, but not the same rights as people in this country, and Andre would do whatever he needed to do to protect me. But that is Zakhar. So I must ask again. Is it legal to do this here?”

“No laws were broken.” He moved a step closer and slid his backpack from his shoulder onto the desk beside her. “Before 9/11 maybe, but not now. The world changed after 9/11, and our laws changed, too.”

Mara gazed up at him, regret in her eyes. “That was a terrible tragedy. But is not the loss of freedom, the loss of privacy, just as tragic?”

Trace laughed abruptly. “You want to debate US political policy, Princess? Discuss the nature and meaning of privacy and freedom as defined by the US Constitution?”

She shook her head. “No. I am Zakharian, and I have no right to criticize. It is just...” She searched for the words. “Some things should remain private. I do not like to think of people’s privacy being invaded.” She had suffered too much herself at the hands of the paparazzi and the tabloids over the years, had suffered too much over the loss of her own privacy to easily accept this invasion of privacy being perpetrated in her name.

“This was all put into motion months ago,” Trace said gently, holding her gaze with his. “Before you even arrived in this country. It wasn’t your decision, and it still isn’t. You’re not responsible.” His hand came up to cup her cheek briefly before he drew it away sharply as if he’d been burned. “But, Princess, you should know by now that just like your brother I
will
keep you safe, no matter what I have to do.” He started to say something more, but stopped himself with a shake of his head. Then his face hardened and he repeated, “No matter what I have to do.”

And though Trace didn’t say the words Mara longed to hear, she knew he wasn’t just talking about doing his job. Somehow that thought managed to allay her dismay over what she’d just learned. She still didn’t like it. But she understood. Just as she understood why Andre would go to any lengths to protect her, she understood why Trace would, too.

Chapter 11

M
ara and Trace were riding together the last Saturday in November when she broached the question she’d been longing to ask. The air was crisp and cold now, and they were both bundled up warmly as they cantered across the snowy landscape. They pulled up when they reached a small rise that gave them an unhindered view of the Rockies; both horses snorted and stamped their hooves, their breath making white clouds in the frosty air.

“I love this view,” Mara said, smiling dreamily at Trace. “Every time I come here I think of home.”

“Still miss Zakhar?” His eyes were turned outward as he asked the question, scanning the horizon for any sign of a threat, but the landscape was deserted and there was no one to be seen for miles around.

“Not as much as I used to,” she answered honestly.

He focused his attention on her finally and asked, “And your brother?”

Mara’s smile faded, and she knew her heart was in her eyes. “Not when I am with you.” They stared at each other for several seconds, until Trace turned away with a muttered oath. “Andre is sending the plane for me after finals are over, so I will be able to return to Zakhar for Christmas break,” she said, apropos of nothing. She took a deep breath. “Will you go with me?”

“Princess...” She hated the regretful way he said that word, knowing a refusal was forthcoming.

“If you cannot, you cannot,” she said lightly, and only she knew what effort that lightness cost her—rejection from Trace was still something she found difficult to deal with. “I will only be gone two weeks after all. I would have liked to show you the place where I grew up, introduce you to Andre. But I understand.”

Trace guided his horse over so they were facing each other, knee to knee. He held the reins in an iron grip with his left hand, while his right reached out to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed gently over her lips, and regret cast a shadow over his beautiful blue eyes. “No,” he said softly, his voice husky with emotion. “You don’t understand. You can’t possibly understand. I would if I could, but...” He looked as if he were going to add something to that statement, but he tightened his lips to hold the words back.

“Then...” Mara took her courage in her hands once more. “If you will not go with me to Zakhar, will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?”

He couldn’t disguise the sudden flare of desire that slashed across his face. His right arm slid around her waist, pulling her into an embrace so fierce, so ardent, Mara caught her breath as passion exploded between them. His lips demanded a response, and she yielded gladly, hungry for his kisses...and anything else he would give her. It wasn’t until her slack hand on the reins allowed Suleiman his head and the horses drifted nervously apart that Trace let her go.

Her lips were swollen; her heart skittered wildly in her chest. She brought Suleiman under control and turned his head so she could reach Trace again. “Please,” she said, pride taking a back seat to love. “You cannot know how I have longed for this.”

“I do know,” he said, as he bent to take her lips again, and his kiss was rough, urgent. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s only a fraction of what I feel,” he muttered. His tongue dove inside, luring hers, and he tasted of love and danger. “I could take you here, now, and I wouldn’t give a damn about snow or anything else,” he said between kisses that melted her insides and made her tremble. Then his kiss gentled. “But you deserve better than that, Princess. You deserve the best I can give you.” He lifted his head and stared down at her, pain she didn’t understand darkening his eyes. Then he seemed to reach a decision. “Yes, I’ll take you to the cabin tomorrow.”

Trace let her go and turned his horse sharply away, putting a little distance between them before stopping dead in his tracks, his head bowed. And Mara knew something was wrong. Very wrong. She wanted to ask him, but she didn’t want to pressure him into telling her what it was.
Maybe when we are alone at the cabin,
she thought as she touched her heels to Suleiman’s sides and headed slowly back toward the house.
Maybe he will tell me then.

Hoofbeats in the snow, the creak of leather and the snorts of the horses were the only sounds that accompanied their return ride, and Mara searched for an explanation for Trace’s sudden capitulation...and his withdrawal. She had hoped going to the cabin would give him the opportunity to tell her he loved her. But until they resolved whatever the problem was, she knew he wasn’t going to say what she wanted to hear.

* * *

Until yesterday Trace hadn’t touched Mara in almost seven weeks. Hadn’t kissed her the way he yearned to do. The way
she
yearned for him to do. He hadn’t drawn her against his body, letting her feel the desperate need that clawed through him, knowing in his heart of hearts she felt the same way. He’d refrained from touching her, knowing that was the only way to maintain a professional distance. He hadn’t laid her down and worshipped her body with his, taking both of them to a higher plane where the only thing that mattered was the two of them and the love they shared. Where the only thing that mattered was their two hearts beating as one.

No, he hadn’t done any of those things...except in his mind. And he knew—he
knew
—he wasn’t the only one dreaming those hopeless dreams. The princess wanted him, too, and she no longer even tried to hide it. The scene yesterday was burned into his mind as he remembered her complete surrender.
She wouldn’t have cared about the snow either,
he brooded, watching silently as she drove confidently along the highway toward Keystone, the speedometer holding steady a few miles above the speed limit.

The defensive driving lessons he’d given her these past weeks had paid off, and she was no longer a nervous driver. No longer hesitant. Not about driving, or anything else. There was a radiance about her now. She’d been lovely before in an understated way, but now she walked in an incandescent glow whenever he was around. Happiness and confidence in herself as a woman had wrought that change. Whenever he looked at her his mouth went dry with desire and his body hardened in a painful rush. But it wasn’t just lust. He could have dealt with that. It wasn’t lust that made his heart skip a beat when she took a dangerous jump on Suleiman. It wasn’t lust that filled him with helpless foreboding at the thought of walking away at the end of the school year. And it damned well wasn’t lust that squeezed his heart when she turned those loving green eyes on him and smiled.

He knew so much more about her now. She still said almost nothing about her father, but he understood her utter devotion to her brother, who’d been the only loving influence in her life.

“...Andre believed in me, even when I was too much of a coward to believe in myself. My father...there was a time when he tried to arrange a marriage for me, before I went to Oxford. I tried to tell him no, but he would not listen to me. I was so terribly afraid I would have no choice, but...Andre...he stopped it. I do not know how, just that he did. Everything I have achieved I owe to him because he freed me...

“...Winter was always my favorite time of year when I was a little girl, because Andre would descend upon the nursery and drag me out to play in the snow. He could be imperious even then, but never for himself, only for me. ‘Come,
dernya,’—
that means ‘little treasure’ in my language, Andre’s pet name for me. Overriding all objections—my nurse, at first, then my governess, then my tutors—he would hold out his hand to me and insist I accompany him, with a wicked smile that made me dare anything. He had a sled that flew like the wind upon a certain snowy hillside near the palace, and he would take me with him, laughing all the way...

“...Andre taught me to ride without fear. I think I was only three and he was eight when he first took me up in front of him atop his favorite mount. But even then he was protective of me. I
knew
nothing bad could happen to me with him there. It is the same feeling I have now...with you...

“...Suleiman the Magnificent, that is his full name, and he has lived up to it. He is the brother of Alexander the Great, out of Andre’s own stables. Alexander won the Grand National three years ago, before he was put out to stud. Suleiman had the potential to be another winner for Andre, just as great as his older brother, but...instead, he was Andre’s gift to me when I obtained my PhD. Never, never, will I forget the first moment I saw him. It was love at first sight, the same way I felt when I saw y—”

Mara never completed that sentence, but Trace knew what she had almost said. Her love shone like a beacon in the night. Luring him. Weaving spells around his heart. Fairy tales he’d never been young enough to believe in suddenly seemed possible when her green eyes smiled at him.

Something had to give—either his sanity or his self-control. And what he was afraid of most was losing his iron grip on his self-control.

* * *

Damon cursed under his breath, as did Lukas, when the SUV they were following from a safe distance turned onto an unmarked dirt road that appeared to lead nowhere, the SUV rocking and bouncing a little as it traversed the snow drifts. “I dare not turn,” Damon muttered as he drove steadily by the turn off, never slacking pace.

The SUV had already disappeared from sight, but Lukas aimed the long-lens camera in his hands at the dirt road as they passed it, snapping off a few shots. The digital camera would record more than just photographs of an empty landscape. It would also embed the GPS location in the digital files for future evaluation. They would return another day and reconnoiter in private, when there was no chance their target might realize he was being followed and put two and two together.

A few minutes later the two soldiers in civilian clothing found themselves in Keystone. Damon turned the car around without discussion and headed back toward Boulder. They weren’t tasked to tail their target everywhere he went, to never let him out of their sight. That would have required at least two more teams, possibly three, and would have dramatically increased the risk of being spotted by their target. No, their job was merely to watch from a distance, record what they could, and report in detail. And be ready to kill him, of course...should the order come. Their target would return to Boulder eventually. And they would be waiting.

* * *

The cabin was cold when Trace and Mara walked in. Trace had the programmable thermostat set at fifty-five degrees so the pipes wouldn’t freeze, but the air inside was decidedly chilly. He quickly turned the heat up, then got a roaring fire going in the fireplace before turning to face the princess, who stood quietly by the door, still bundled up against the Colorado cold.

“What is it?” he asked Mara when she didn’t smile, didn’t walk into the middle of the room, didn’t remove her jacket. Just stood there watching him with a grave expression on her usually animated face.

“That is what I wanted to ask you,” she said with solemn dignity. “All the way here you barely said one word to me. If you did not wish to come here, why are we here?”

Trace closed his eyes momentarily and swore under his breath. His voice was a deep rasp when he admitted, “I’ve wanted to bring you back here every day for the past seven weeks.” A shudder rippled through his body, shaking him to the core. “And every night.”

“Then why did you not bring me before this?” she whispered.

“Because...” He turned away, not wanting her to see the desperate need he was afraid was reflected in his face. “Because I wanted it too much.”

“I do not understand.”

The bewilderment in her voice made him whirl around to face her, and he violently suppressed the urge to stalk across the short distance between them and drag her into his embrace. Anger shook him. Not anger at her, but at himself. “Because I’m responsible for you. For your safety. I’m supposed to be the professional here. Every time I let myself forget that, I put you at risk.”

“Is that the only reason?”

He shook his head slowly and drew a deep breath before continuing. “Because no matter what happens,” he said softly, holding her eyes with his, wondering if she could read him as easily as he read her, “no matter what we feel, I’ll never be the right man for you—you deserve better than what I have to offer.”

“Do you love me?” By the way her hand covered her mouth and the startled expression that crossed her face he knew she’d surprised herself with the question as much as she’d surprised him. When he didn’t respond, she removed her hand from her mouth and said quietly, “If you love me, then nothing else matters.” Her fingers twisted together, the only sign she wasn’t as confident as she seemed. “If you love me, please do not talk of what I deserve.” She took one step toward him. Then another. “Since I have known you all I have wanted to be was a woman. Your woman. Is that so wrong?” she implored. “Just a woman with the man she lo—”

He kissed her to stop her from making that declaration, to stop her from saying the words neither of them could retreat from. But once he touched her he was lost. When his lips took hers she made a soft, glad sound, and one arm circled his neck as she strained to get closer to him.

Heat scorched him from the inside out, and it was like the first time, only worse. Better. Trace couldn’t think of anything to compare it to. Couldn’t think, really. All he knew was that they both had too many clothes on. He stripped her jacket from her arms then fought to remove his own, all the while their lips clung together in a series of kisses that threatened to steal his sanity...to steal his soul. Fire raced through his veins. He wanted. Needed. But so did she. She was as wild to touch him as he was to touch her. Everywhere.

“I have to see you,” Trace whispered, drawing away from Mara only far enough to gaze at her with wonder and pain. “Just once I have to see you as God made you.” The air in the small room was warming up quickly, the heater and the fire in the fireplace doing their job. A faint tremor shook his hands as he reached for the buttons on her blouse. She stood there passively at first, as one button then another slid open. But then her hands were tugging at the pullover sweater he wore beneath his jacket, and when that was off she reached for his buttons, too. She whispered something in Zakharan he didn’t catch, and it was a race between them.